Tristan would be so surprised when he saw the colourful tablecloth, the flowers, and the napkins. No other holiday inspired creativity like Easter did. Okay, maybe Halloween, but there were no bright colours then.

Aiden wiped his sweaty palms on his new jeans -- they made his arse look edible, he hoped Tristan would like them -- and put the plates on the table. Before folding the napkins into rabbits, like he’d seen on YouTube, he fetched the egg from the coffee table -- should he place it on the table? -- righted the yellow tulips in the vase…and ate another piece of Tristan’s fudge. Pecan, possibly the best so far.

He went to fetch the dessert spoons, slipping another piece into his mouth when he returned. Creamy almond melted on his tongue, and he sighed. Bliss! Too bad it didn’t calm the desperate hammering of his heart. He ate another piece, groaned, and tried to ignore his guilty conscious that was telling him not to have any more of Tristan’s sweets.

Maybe he should hide the egg. He ran his fingers through his curls, making sure they weren’t too badly tangled. Reaching into the egg again, he almost snatched his hand back when the smooth fabric brushed against his hand. What would it feel like to wear them? Cool and silky, sliding against his skin. Aiden let out an unsteady breath. What if he’d got it all wrong? Heat spread over his cheeks. Maybe he should forget about the egg altogether, hide it, and pretend he’d never planned to give it to Tris.

He took another piece -- salted caramel. Fuck! He shouldn’t have eaten that. He’d only bought a couple of pieces, and he’d already eaten some in the car back from Whiteport. He’d gone for no other reason than to buy fudge at the chocolatier, and it was fucking expensive. He’d bought the jeans, too, as he was already in the city, but they weren’t the reason he’d gone there. Tristan was.

He checked the vegetables in the oven. There was still time, but Tristan needed to get his fine arse home soon or it would all be ruined. Aiden reached over the plates to snatch another piece of fudge, digging around but feeling only the satin and the soft elastic lace. In one erratic movement, he tipped the egg over, almost bringing down one of the wine glasses with it.

Two sorry pieces.

Aiden swallowed, anger and sadness warring in his chest. He’d eaten Tristan’s luxury fudge. He couldn’t give him an Easter egg with two pathetic pieces, that was ... pathetic.

Og’s honey-coloured eyes held none of their usual understanding. If Aiden hadn’t known better, he’d have said that look was downright accusing. Breathing out a puff of air, he slunk down onto one of the kitchen chairs and brought one of the last remaining pieces of fudge to his mouth. Irish coffee. He grimaced. He didn’t like Irish coffee. Tristan did, though.

A lump formed in his throat, and he cursed the way his eyes burned. He’d planned the dinner so carefully, wanting to give Tristan something special for their first Easter together.

The last piece -- a beautiful banana swirl -- tasted bitter though he knew it wasn’t. His belly was full, and he wasn’t nearly as excited about dinner as he’d been a few minutes ago.

He glanced down into the egg. The black satin and bright-red lace he’d placed there glared mockingly at him.