Squashing down the hurt and humiliation to drink away later, he gave Goldfish some thorough pets and a small pile of treats. Once he was mollified, Shannon grabbed his wallet, keys, list, and favorite ballcap before finally heading out.
Twenty minutes and a barely avoided car crash later, he pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store. Strictly speaking, he should probably get the food last, but he had bags to keep things cold and shit, and he hated grocery shopping, so he'd rather get it out of the way.
Grabbing the last little cart left, he trudged into the already crowded store, dodging children, a very large husky freaking out over the tomatoes, and people too busy on their phones to watch their surroundings.
Begrudgingly adding some vegetables to his cart, he then headed eagerly onward, wending up and down most of the aisles, looking for things that would be easy to eat at work between various disasters, and things he'd have the energy to fix for dinner.
Eventually, he reached his favorite aisle: snack food. Beautiful, beautiful snack food.
Alas, there was no insanely hot person eager to sweep him off his feet and carry him into the sunset. A man could dream. Shannon wandered down the aisle, throwing in every stupid snack his broken heart desired because fuck it. Hell, maybe he'd get the stuff for his favorite dessert and—
Oh, shit. He'd promised the crew he'd make that for them and bring it tomorrow. How could he have forgotten? At least he'd remembered in time. He'd have to go back a few to the baking aisle, but it had been so crowded between shoppers and stockers, getting his cart through would be a nightmare. He'd just leave it here and pop over real quick.
Shannon turned around sharply—
And slammed into something that felt like rock but smelled like making out in a hammock on a sultry summer night in the tropics. He stumbled back, hit his cart, which rolled forward, causing him to hit the cart again with his head before he landed on his ass.
"Oh, my god, are you all right?"
The voice was familiar, because of course it was, and Shannon prayed for death, even as he was hauled to his feet by none other than sex-on-a-stick Reginald Crispin Gaylord-Jones himself. Fuck, the stupid bastard was even wearing a three-piece suit. On a Saturday afternoon. That wasn't remotely fair, and it should be illegal.
"I'm so sorry." Reginald's eye widened. "I know you! You're Corey's boyfriend. Shannon, right? I totally did not mean to do that, I'm really sorry."
"Ex," Shannon said bitterly. "Corey's ex-boyfriend. Last I saw him, he was enjoying an expensive dinner with someone else." After telling Shannon he was working late. That lie was older than dirt, and yet Shannon had fallen for it more times than he cared to count.
"I, uh, see. I'm sorry, sounds like you've been having a shitty time of it, between Corey and me knocking you over."
"It's fine, and the fall was all me—didn't look where I was going." Shannon smiled, righted his ballcap, and grabbed his cart. "Good to see you again. Merry Christmas."
His heart banged against his ribs as he made his escape, mind already spinning with fantasies of how he would have liked that little encounter to go. As usual, though, all he'd done was make a fool of himself. No Prince or Princess Charming was ever going to fall for the scatter-brained nitwit who owned an art supply shop. The kindest adjective people used to describe him was quirky.
They usually didn't bother with the kindest option.
Stifling a sigh, the good mood he'd worked so hard to achieve as destroyed as his dignity, he grabbed the stuff he needed for the éclair pudding dessert everyone loved, fled to self-checkout, and made a beeline for his Camaro.
When the groceries had been dumped in the trunk, he slid behind the wheel and pulled out his shopping list.
That wasn't there. Shannon sighed as he rifled through his pockets to figure out where he'd shoved it, even though he always tried to keep his lists in the front right pocket of his jacket.
Nothing. Nowhere. He checked them again. Not his pants. His jacket. His cardigan. The list was gone. How the hell had he managed to lose his shopping list when it had been in his pocket? Why was he like this? Honestly, it was no wonder Corey had never wanted to take him—
No. He wasn't doing that to himself. Whatever his flightiness and inability to stay organized, he didn't deserve to be cheated on, and he definitely deserved to be taken to nice places.
Whatever. He'd do the whole pep talk thing later after he'd had a few beers. For the present, he closed his eyes and tried to recreate the list from memory. He'd gotten groceries… his car needed an oil change. There was something else that made him think of his car. What?
Someone honked, jerking him from his thoughts, and he stared across the parking lot to where some woman in a giant ass SUV was laying on the horn for someone to hurry up out of their parking spot. Shannon rolled his eyes, started the car, and got the hell out of there.
The bakery. That he remembered. And gifts, he thought he remembered most of those. His mom wanted a new string of pearls, his dad wanted that new Tom Ford cologne, and… that was it. There'd been more, right?
He sighed as he fought through traffic to downtown, where he parked behind his store, because otherwise he'd be trying to find parking for longer than it would take him to shop. He spared half a thought for popping in, but nobody wanted a surprise visit from the boss, and he didn't want to get dragged into work on a Saturday.
So he took the alley out to the main drag, avoiding the street his shop was on entirely, and headed south for the bakery owned by an old college buddy. The place was crazy as always, but thankfully that was for the general counter, not the catering pick-up.
Shannon smiled at the girl manning the counter, ignoring the way she blushed. "Hey, Katie, did that loser get my cupcakes done?"
She giggled. "All ready, Mr. Weiss. I packed them up myself this morning."
"You're wonderful, Katie."
She retrieved the box from the shelves behind her and slid it across with a shy, "Can I get you anything else?"
"Any of those fancy little cakes left? I need to appease my mother."
Katie giggled again. "I think there's a few left. You want vanilla or chocolate?"
"Chocolate."
"Back in a jiffy!" she said, spinning away and rushing into the back, her ponytail swinging behind her.
Shannon ran a hand through his hair, sweeping his gaze over the shop as he waited.
His hair was getting long, but that was fine. He'd been wanting to grow it out for ages, just had always heeded Corey that short looked more professional.
Just as he feared he was going to have to start socializing with the woman who'd come up behind him, Katie reappeared with the small gold box with black ribbon that he'd been hoping to see. "All set, Mr. Weiss!" she said, setting the box down like it was a prize she'd won in some fierce, life and death competition. "Anything else? Did you want this on your saved card?"
"Saved card is fine, and I'm good to go."
"Then have a good day, Mr. Weiss. See you next time!" She said, blushing again as she couldn't quite meet his eyes. Kids were so cute.
"You too," he said with a wink before making his escape, expensive sweets in hand. Just as well he hadn't crossed paths with Rasheed, who'd interrogate him worse than his mother about the break-up with Corey. Not that he'd told his mother yet, because he wasn't ready for an hour long 'I told you so' speech. Anyway, she probably already knew from one of the women at church, though how they always knew the latest torrid gossip so fast, Shannon still hadn't figured out. Blood rituals, probably.