every leap, embracing every risk.
His fingers found rough fabric of a new pair of jeans, and he found a long-sleeved shirt that his pen told him was burgundy. It would match the wine at least, if Ilan was the one buying, and it felt comfortable against his skin. He washed his face, did a cursory shave, then ran a comb through his hair and hoped that he pulled off the look of someone worth giving a second chance.
Or third.
Or fiftieth.
He wasn’t really sure where they stood anymore, because he hadn’t been counting the ways he’d failed Ilan for so long.
He wasn’t going to let the past nip at his heels though—not now. He was going to give this his all, like it was a brand-new start. It was the least Ilan deserved from him.
Slipping his phone into the dock, he pulled up a playlist—the classical cabaret music he knew Ilan had always liked. Edith Piaf’s voice drifted through the speakers—the old recording crackling like an original vinyl, and he hummed along as he felt the buttons on the oven and turned it to heat.
He could grow to like cooking, he thought, as he worked through the steps. It was methodical and soothing—a routine that required some creativity and some precise measurements and had just enough space to let him think without getting too lost in his own head.
His fingers fumbled a little as he tried to stuff the bird, and the butter wasn’t soft enough as he began to rub it into the chicken’s skin. But the dried herbs went on smoothly, and he only failed at knotting the string twice. The roasting pot lid slid into place, and he carefully pushed it onto the rack, closing the door and setting the timer.
And then the doorbell rang like a warning before the door opened.
Fredric felt his breath catch as he heard Ilan’s laugh and the quiet jingle of Sebastian’s collar. He knew where he’d find the man, down on one knee with his hands in the dog’s fur. The rightness of it choked him a little, and he cleared his throat before he made his way through the kitchen doorway and into the living room.
“You weren’t kidding about being early.”
There was a smile in Ilan’s voice when he spoke. “Finding dessert didn’t take as long as I thought it would.” And then suddenly he was in Fredric’s space, but there was a hesitance there that hadn’t existed before. Fredric felt the way Ilan’s hand had lifted between them—and then hovered—before touching his arm in greeting.
And that hesitation to touch Fredric was new.
He laid his palm against the back of Ilan’s hand before he could pull away, and he took a step closer. “Remember what I said before?”
Ilan swallowed. “Not broken?”
“Yes. Except it’s never, okay? We’re never broken.”
“So, when you and Hudson get married and…”
“What are you holding?” Fredric interrupted, ready to deal with the situation. His other hand traced its way from Ilan’s shoulder to the bag hanging from his wrist. “It’s heavy.”
Ilan cleared his throat. “Cake and wine.”
“Go put it down, pour two glasses, then meet me on the sofa. We need to talk.” Enough was enough. A little booze and a lot of conversation was the only way to fix it. And maybe Ilan would storm out because Fredric had allowed the lie, or maybe he’d lean in and make that almost kiss a definite. Maybe they’d get lost in each other and the dinner would burn.
Maybe none of those things.
But he was ready to find out. He took his usual seat on the side of the sofa by the door, and he waited, a little on edge, as he heard the pop of a cork and then the sound of glasses being filled. Ilan’s footsteps were heavy, even without his shoes on, and the sofa cushions dipped with his weight as he sat.
“I didn’t give Corinne details on my dating life,” he said after his fingers closed around the glass. The wine was cool, not cold, and it smelled rich and peppery. He wanted to take a drink, but he had to get through this part first. “She made assumptions the way she always does, and I decided not to correct her.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“That Hudson and I aren’t dating. We never even got around to that second date.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“I think you know why,” Fredric said, and his voice cracked a little. “I called him back after you left and