Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,69

He owed it to Fredric to be a present friend to him. No matter how he felt. Because he would always love him in some capacity, and at some point, this—this raw, aching, agonizing love— had to pass. Didn’t it? “I’ll go see him today.”

“Good,” she said. “Just…vet this guy, alright? You’re the only one he trusts right now to get that close.”

Ilan closed his eyes for a single second. “I will. Talk to you later.”

He hung up before she could say anything else, and then he pulled off into a gas station parking lot and reached for his phone. Fredric’s number was there, right on his screen with a little star by his name. His favorite. And god how that thought made his heart beat wildly.

He was nestled in there with Julian and with Corinne—his only family left, and fuck his feelings for trying to ruin that. Because that’s why he ran—and it was why he had to keep running. It was too much of a risk, and he couldn’t lose it.

But he could still be there for Fredric, even if his heart was locking itself tight behind his newly constructed walls. He could compartmentalize and do both because he’d been doing it for years without even realizing. And Fredric needed him.

He braced himself as he pressed on Fredric’s contact and then held his breath as he waited for the voice on the other end to pick up.

“I was hoping you’d call,” was the first thing he said, and it was a balm to his tattered, aching soul.

“Sorry, I was…” busy, panicking, desperate. All the truth, but all the words he couldn’t say. “I was being an asshole. I felt guilty for that night.”

“I had a feeling,” Fredric said quietly. “I was just scared I ruined it.”

“You didn’t,” Ilan said, and he felt suddenly he was gasping for breath. “You couldn’t. I promise. I was just being a selfish dick. Your daughter just ripped me a new asshole, by the way.”

Fredric chuckled softly, and Ilan’s eyes went hot. “I had a feeling. She called me earlier this morning, and she was a bit…incensed.”

“She helped me see reason,” Ilan told him. “She also said you were seeing someone. I take it the date with Hudson went well.”

Fredric was quiet for a long time. “My personal life finally feels like…” He hesitated. “I feel like I finally know what I want, and I have the courage to reach for it.”

It was agony and ecstasy all at the same time. “Good.”

Fredric was quiet for a long time. “Can I see you soon?”

“Any time you want,” Ilan told him, and he felt like the worst martyr in the world, because sitting on the sidelines and watching this man fall in love would be the worst torture. And yet, he could never tell him no.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m cooking. I’ve been honing my skills.”

Ilan grinned in spite of himself. “Boxed mac and cheese?”

“If that’s what you want…”

“No,” Ilan gasped through a laugh. “I’m joking. It’s fine, impress me with your skills. I’ll bring the wine.”

“I can’t wait,” Fredric said. “Thank you for calling.”

“Thank you for answering. And again…”

“Don’t,” Fredric said, very softly. “No more sorries. Just be here.”

And really, that was the easiest promise Ilan had ever made.

Chapter 16

Fredric felt Agatha at his shoulder as he spread open the pages of the cookbook. “What is that?” she asked, her voice a little too loud in his ear.

“This was a gift from my occupational therapist the day I graduated,” he said. It was an old, archaic cookbook with a lot of gelatin loaf recipes from the seventies and eighties. She’d put it together herself, meticulously brailling every page from her mother’s collection. “I think she had a lot more faith in my future as a chef than I did.”

Agatha laughed as she stepped away. “But you use it?”

“I actually haven’t touched it for years,” he confessed. “I tried to make something for my ex back on our fifteenth wedding anniversary. Lamb chops with mint sauce,” he said. The memory was old and stale, and he remembered chasing away the staff, burning his fingertips to blisters, and feeling absurdly proud when his fingers brushed over the badly plated dinner.

Except Jacqueline never showed. She called hours later to say that she was staying over at the hotel after some benefit, and she’d see him on the weekend. She wasn’t sorry—she hadn’t even remembered what night it was. He threw everything into the bin without