from Fredric’s sigh as his lips parted.
He could still feel that single, perfect moment of anticipation as Fredric leaned in.
And he could still feel the pain as that moment shattered.
He’d been a fool for suggesting it. He was filled with self-loathing as he laid there staring up at his ceiling fan. Fredric had panicked—Ilan had been able to see it in the way his fingers faintly trembled for the rest of the night. But he’d begged Ilan not to pull back, and Ilan had made him a promise—not with words, but with dragging him into the kitchen and standing beside him as he walked him through the shakshuka recipe his mother used to make for him Sunday mornings.
Their hands bumped in the bowl as they crushed the stewed tomatoes. Their elbows never ceased touching as Ilan guided him through the spices and the herbs. His hands closed over Fredric’s to show him just how much greens to add and then where to crack the eggs. Their breathing was matched, and he knew if he reached his hand over and pressed it to Fredric’s chest, he would find their heartbeats had too.
But he wasn’t brave enough.
He had to let go.
He’d walked away, letting Fredric believe that everything was fine—and he meant it. Because it would be. But not yet. Right now, he needed the coward’s way out. So, he’d ignored Fredric’s texts, and he’d turned his phone off, and he’d spent the night staring at the wall, wondering how he still had it in him to be such a stupid fuck.
Dragging a hand down his face, he contemplated getting up, but he didn’t quite see the point. It was a miracle he hadn’t grabbed all of his wine to drink himself into oblivion, but there in the cold light of day, the idea had merit. His mouth even began to water at the anticipation of the slow burn, and just as he swung his legs over the bed, his doorbell rang.
“Fuck. Fucking…fuck.” There was every chance in the world it was Fredric, so he rose into the balls of his feet, grabbing his glasses, and walked as quietly as he could to his front door.
Peering carefully out the peephole, he let out a sigh of relief, then frowned in confusion. It wasn’t Fredric at all, but the dirty, wind-swept blond head of Preston.
“Uh,” Ilan said with a sheepish smile as he swung the door open. “Did we have plans?”
“No, and normally I don’t bring coffee to people who run out on me during a date, but you seemed actually upset last night.” When Ilan stepped aside, Preston walked in and handed the to-go cup over.
It was still hot, and Ilan’s stomach rumbled when he smelled the rich, bitter roast. “Thank you. Don’t you have appointments today?”
“That’s what my NP is for,” he said with a wink. “Mondays are always slow, and they’ll call me if there’s anything serious.” Moving farther into Ilan’s house, he glanced around, and Ilan realized that he hadn’t invited Preston in the night before. “I was worried. You took off like a bat out of hell.”
Ilan’s face went white-hot with shame, and he led the way into the kitchen so he could add cream to his coffee. “Ah. Sorry. It actually wasn’t…” Ilan stopped, because everything he could say sounded like a lie. He bit the inside of his cheek as he focused on stirring, still taking the coward’s way out, even with Preston.
“Is it…an ex kind of thing?”
Ilan turned his head sharply. “A what?”
“Whoever called last night. Was that your ex? I’ve been there done that with people who are still kind of half in it, and I really like you, but I don’t…”
“No,” Ilan interrupted, then softened his tone. “Sorry, no. I don’t have any exes.”
“But it is something like that,” he pressed, and Ilan let out a sigh, because at this point, there was no denying it. It didn’t matter that there was no future for him and Fredric, he couldn’t string Preston along knowing that he’d never live up to the other man. It wasn’t fair to him.
“He and I aren’t together. That’s not even an option.” Motioning toward the table, Preston followed him, and they both sat near the window. Ilan leaned back and took a long drink before went on. “I’ve known him most of my life. We met when I was like eight.”
Preston’s eyebrows rose. “You were at school together?”
Ilan couldn’t help his laugh. “Not exactly.” He thumbed the plastic