like a second skin and was just this side of obscene. Then Will remembered that he no longer had any right to look at Martin that way, and dragged his gaze to Martin’s face.
“You didn’t come here to congratulate me on my tailoring,” Martin said. He still leaned against the door frame, as if deciding whether to step into the room.
“I came because I missed you.”
“It’s only been a few days.” Martin’s expression was closed off, his eyes flinty and hard. It was nothing Will hadn’t seen before; this was fairly typical of Martin, in fact. But over the past months Will had started to take for granted Martin’s moments of openness and vulnerability. He had gotten used to being looked upon as something rare and loved and now he felt the lack of it.
“And I’ve seen you every day for months. Christ, Martin, this shouldn’t be so awkward.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it—admitting to the stiffness between them would only compound their problems.
But Martin huffed out a laugh—not a pleasant laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “I’ve reverted to form. I’m hardly known for my warm and inviting nature.”
“You can be warm and inviting,” Will said. “And you can be prickly and difficult. I like you this way and every way.”
Martin stared at him for a long moment, cool and considering. “You’re making a poor fist of returning to our usual friendship.”
“Bollocks. You’re my friend and I’m allowed to tell you that I like you.” He stepped closer, now within touching distance.
Martin shrugged. Will stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed his toe against the pile of a carpet that he could only assume was priceless.
“So,” Martin said, “this is the friendly rapport we have to look forward to.”
“No,” Will said, gruffer than he intended. “It’ll just take some time to adjust.”
Martin gave skeptical little hum. “Has it ever occurred to you,” he said, a dangerous note in his voice, “that things could have been different?”
“Different in what way?” Will asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“We were both doing marvelously in the country. If we wished to feed pigs and live in near poverty, we could have spared ourselves this detour into trauma and illness. We could have simply stayed in Cumberland. There are cottages by the dozen and any quantity of livestock.”
It took Will a moment to understand. “You’re talking about what would have happened if I hadn’t joined the navy, if instead I had tried to scratch out some kind of living up north. You’re imagining that we could have stayed there and somehow wound up feeling as we did in Sussex. Feeling as we do,” he amended.
“Precisely,” Martin said tightly.
“No, Martin, I don’t think about that. I don’t let myself. I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t—if none of that had happened. And neither do you.” Will clenched his fists. He had thought Martin cared for him the way he was, not as a second-rate version of the person he would have been, and he tried not to be too disappointed to learn the truth. “There’s no what if. This is not something I can while away a morning hypothesizing about. That universe doesn’t even exist in my imagination, all right? It can’t. I won’t let it.”
Martin looked like he had been slapped. He looked like he wanted to go to Will, to take him in his arms, and Will didn’t know why he wouldn’t. Martin might be in a mood that was foul even for him, but he was never anything other than kind about the things that had happened to Will at sea. Will braced himself, waiting for Martin to say something—to either make it worse or to make it better. But they were interrupted by the arrival of a servant carrying a silver tea service, and the tension in the room dissipated. They sat, Will on the edge of a strange backless sofa and Martin in a chair made of wood carved to look fine as gossamer. Will had the distinct sense that if either of them moved wrong, all the furniture in the room would crumble to toothpicks, and he almost wished it would, just to give him an excuse to walk out the door. He watched silently as Martin poured the tea.
“Any luck finding a bride?” Will blurted out. He had been aiming for jocular friendly banter, a remark that would show Martin he supported his plan and didn’t intend