Page 86 of Ancient Obsession

When Margie brought the bill a short time later, Greg Bower handed over a credit card. Dave appeared about to protest, but Alice told him there was no arguing about it.

Their group dispersed all at once, to the visible relief of the other diners and, almost certainly, Margie’s staff. He and Dave stopped to each give Margie a thankful hug and make sure she knew where to go tomorrow. She was attending the ceremony as a guest, but would have a couple of people with her to manage the food for the reception. Cody, Roman, and Greg were bringing beer and wine as the university didn’t have a liquor license.

After many hugs and instructions to “behave yourselves” and “save your energy for tomorrow night,” Oliver stood on the sidewalk with Dave and watched their friends and family get into their vehicles and drive off.

“I love them,” Dave said. “But they’re a fucking lot to handle.”

Oliver laughed and leaned into him. “That is the perfect description.” He glanced over his shoulder, watching Margie and another waitress put the tables and chairs back in order. “You know what sounds good?”

“A week of sleep?”

“Before that. A slice of banana cream pie.”

Dave’s posture loosened immediately. “That would be amazing.”

“Yeah?” Oliver moved toward the door, tugging Dave along by the hand. “I think so, too. Come on, one last date as fiancés.”

Margie greeted them, looking confused. “Did you forget something?”

“No,” Oliver said. “Just wanted one last pre-wedding date with my man. Do you have two slices of banana cream pie back there?”

Her face brightened. “I sure do. You take the back booth, and I’ll be right out.”

When Margie returned, she carried a tray with two big slices of banana cream pie, two coffee cups, and a single white candle in a holder. She set a slice of pie before each of them with a cup of coffee.

“It’s decaf,” she assured them.

She set the candle between them and lit it with a plastic lighter.

“The pie is on the house. Enjoy.”

Dave held up his fork. “Cheers.”

Oliver tapped it gently with his own. “Cheers.”

They each took a bite and moaned quietly.

“You have the best ideas,” Dave said. “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow.”

Oliver took another bite. He couldn’t wait either.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Saturday morning, Oliver and Dave both woke early. They spent a short time in bed together, holding hands and talking quietly. Nothing about the murders or the possibility of a mummy, and nothing about the wedding. Oliver’s brain hadn’t quite come online yet, and he needed a break from those stressful topics.

When they got up, each pulled on shorts and t-shirts and made breakfast together. Dave focused on omelets—he was an expert flipper—and Oliver the hash browns and toast. He tossed the shredded potatoes with butter, garlic salt, and paprika before spreading them on a baking sheet and sliding them in the oven. As he dropped the bread in the toaster, he caught himself humming and turned to Dave.

“Have I been humming a Taylor Swift song?”

Dave grinned but kept his eyes on the omelets. “You have. I was enjoying it, so I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re the sweetest.” Oliver kissed him on the cheek. “I think I’ll marry you later.”

“Yeah? Lucky me.”

Once they sat at the table to eat, Oliver brought up the wedding, and they discussed timing. Dave opened a notes app on his phone and talked through a checklist he had created to keep himself on track. He was so handsome in a faded concert t-shirt—Daughtry, which was just so very Dave—his hair in corkscrews, his beard freshly trimmed, and his glasses halfway down his nose. Oliver reached across to touch Dave’s hand, getting him to look up from his list.

“I love you,” Oliver said.