His mother’s gaze slid down his jeans-and-T-shirt-clad body. “Wear something nice. Of course there’s nothing to be done about those freckles on such short notice, but it wouldn’t kill you to get a haircut.”
Coming back to the restaurant was surreal. Freddy felt simultaneously like nothing had changed and everything had changed. The food was the same, the staff was the same, the customers were the same. Everything was the same.
So why did it all feel so different? Like he was skating along the surface of his life, correcting people’s timing in the kitchen, placing the seafood order, filling in at the host stand when someone called in sick. It was all the same, he kept telling himself.
But if that was true, then why did he feel like he could no longer fully immerse himself in this world he’d spent the last eight years building?
Maybe it was because Ben wasn’t here? He’d left Ben in pretty good spirits in Bishop’s Glen. He’d taken to visiting Lulu, of all people, every day. It had started with a visit to her in the hospital after the accident. Ben had felt responsible, since her injury had happened on his property. Whatever her faults, she’d seemed to have a cheering effect on Ben, one that Freddy hadn’t managed to achieve in the weeks he’d spent there. When he’d broached the idea of returning to the city, they’d decided he would head back to the restaurant and Ben would follow within the next couple of weeks.
It was good that Ben had Lulu. For a while, Freddy thought maybe Ben and Adam would become friends, given their mutual interest in books. They’d certainly geeked out enough together at that dinner party. But Adam had left.
Just left without a word. To go to the Hamptons with Rusty, which Freddy only knew because he’d run into Adam’s brother, Mark, visiting Lulu.
Not that he expected Adam to inform him of his comings and goings.
But still.
He knew why Adam had left. And why he—Freddy—was losing his mind so utterly.
It was that kiss. That astonishing, sweet-yet-hot kiss. The one that had threatened to completely undo him. The one that had scared the hell out of him.
The one Adam had called epically stupid.
“Hey, Chef!”
Freddy’s thoughts were interrupted by Andie, a line cook who stepped in to act as expeditor when they were really slammed, which they were at the moment.
“Sorry. Yeah?” He shook his head. It was Saturday night, and he was supposed to be searing steaks.
“I’ve got two plates of mashed getting cold waiting for those.” She nodded at the pair of raw steaks on the work surface in front of him.
Shit. Usually Andie barked orders from a perch in the center of the kitchen where she could see everything. The fact that she’d had to come over here to get his attention wasn’t good. She wouldn’t call him on it, though, since he was the boss.
“Right. Dump those mashed and start over. Tell the line cooks I’m sorry.”
Sorry. He’d been saying that a lot lately. He laid the steaks on a hot cast-iron skillet.
He just couldn’t seem to get back into the swing of things—couldn’t break through the surface. He was antsy, too, hot all the time in the stifling kitchen. Unable to concentrate. His brain just wasn’t moving fast enough. That damn town, with its fresh, green air and its endless starry skies, had infected him.
Well, the town and something else.
Someone else.
Someone, he reminded himself for the thousandth time, who hadn’t even bothered to tell him he was leaving.
Someone who’d made it very clear, eight years ago, that he didn’t want Freddy. And you couldn’t undo eight years of heartache with one meaningless kiss.
Chapter Thirteen
Eight years ago
Freddy tried to regroup after the disastrous family dinner. The warm summer weather hanging on into September made it easier to slide back to the way things were, to walk and talk and kiss and swim and fuck. It was easy to be with Adam, he told himself, because that’s what he’d always told himself.
Because it was true.
Or it had been true.
He wanted it to still be true, but nothing was the same after that dinner, after he’d truly seen what he was up against. It might be an unseasonably warm fall, but winter was coming all the same.
One night, a couple weeks later, Adam disappeared after they dried off, like he always did, leaving Freddy to dress alone by the lake.
When he reappeared, he was carrying a single pink flower. “Peony season is long gone, but the dahlias are blooming now. Don’t you think they look kind of similar?” He held the flower out to Freddy, and Freddy’s heart, a la the Grinch, grew almost uncomfortably large for his chest.
Freddy had idly admired a bush by the entrance to Kellynch once when he’d dropped Adam off here—back when they were still saying goodbye at the foot of the driveway. It had been positioned under a streetlight, so it had been easy to see that it was bursting with huge pink blossoms—peonies, apparently, though Freddy hadn’t known that at the time. Adam had decided they were Freddy’s favorite flower—and so they had become Freddy’s favorite flower. He’d never had one of those before. After that first time he’d voiced admiration for the flowers, Adam had given him one at the end of every visit until they had stopped blooming.
“Thanks,” he croaked, taking the flower with one hand and settling the other on Adam’s waist and pulling him in for a kiss.
He was going to have to talk to Adam. To force things, eventually. It wasn’t going to be easy.
But fuck easy. None of this was easy anymore. It hurt to have your chest forced open like this.
But he loved it. He needed it.
Impulsively, he slid his ring off, the one Adam always seemed to enjoy playing with when it was on Freddy’s finger. “I want you to have this.”
Adam’s eyes widened. “You can’t give me your ring.”
“I can, though.” This part was easy. That flower—what had he called it? A dahlia?—had made something bloom in his chest, something that was delicate like a flower but somehow also stronger than a flower. He wanted to make a reciprocal gesture. He wanted to bind them together so that when the storm came, they’d emerge from it together.
He didn’t have flowers, or money, or anything, really. The ring was the only object he owned that he truly gave a shit about.
The ring was sized for Freddy’s middle finger, so it would be too big for all of Adam’s, which was just as well because he didn’t want Adam to interpret it as a proposal or anything. Well, in truth, he’d love it if Adam would interpret it as a proposal. He’d drop to one knee right here in the dirt if he thought he had any chance in hell of getting a yes. But they were a long way from that. All he could do was hope that someday, they’d get there.
“Don’t freak out.” He placed the ring in Adam’s palm and closed Adam’s fingers over it. “It’s not a wedding ring or an engagement ring. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“But it does mean something.” Adam’s voice was thick with emotion. “Even if not that.”
“Yeah. Yeah it does.”
I hope.
Present day
“I’ve had the most astonishing text from Mark, by the way.”
Adam’s mother paced the living room of the luxurious housesitting pad, running her fingernails along a console table as she did so.
They were waiting for William Ellison, who, in the twenty-four hours since Adam had learned of his existence, had taken on almost legendary proportions. He was exceedingly well connected yet modest about those connections. Well-bred yet kind. He understood the importance of family. His taste was exquisite. He knew someone who knew Gwyneth.
He probably pooped rainbows.
“Oh?” Adam tried to think what news from Bishop’s Glen could be considered astonishing and came up short. “What did Mark have to say?”
His mother paused her pacing and raised her eyebrows. “Ben Captain and Lulu McGuire are dating.”
“What?�
�
Betsy’s shriek was echoed by a silent one inside Adam’s head. His mother might as well have announced that the apocalypse was scheduled for the next five minutes, so surely did his body enter fight or flight mode. He managed to make himself sound normal, though—he hoped—when he squeaked out a comment designed to get his mother to add more detail without making it seem like he was hanging on that detail. “That seems like an odd match.”
“It does indeed.” His mother wrinkled her nose. Like Mark and Chloe, she had a complicated relationship with the McGuires, both admiring and resenting their wealth.
But in a way, Adam could kind of see it. Lulu wasn’t a scholar, but she was fun and vibrant, and Ben needed that right now. Ben was handsome and quietly charming. And of course Lulu would be attracted to his wealth. He just hoped she was attracted to more than that.
“I wonder how Freddy Wentworth is taking it.” Bless his sister for verbalizing the question that had been vibrating on Adam’s tongue. “Mark told me earlier that it sort of seemed like there might be something between Freddy and Lulu.”
“Apparently fine,” his mother answered. “Mark reports that Freddy was at the McGuires’ saying goodbye to both of them—he headed back to the city a week ago, I gather—and everyone was smiling and Freddy and Ben seemed as close as ever.”
Oh, God. Something unfamiliar began to unfurl in Adam’s chest, slowly but decidedly. He was pretty sure that, even though he was unfamiliar with the sentiment, it was hope.
Which he should quash. Because, objectively speaking, there wasn’t any. That ship had sailed. Freddy had rebuffed Adam’s kiss the other day, and now he was back in New York City, where he belonged.
But it felt so good, this hope. It was warm and tingly and—
“What are you so happy about?” Betsy demanded.
“Whatever it is, wipe that idiotic grin off your face,” his mother said. “I don’t want William to think you’re a simpleton.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter what William thinks of me,” Adam said peevishly. He didn’t want to wipe the idiotic grin off his face. It had to be done, of course—the hope inside him had to be extinguished. But he’d do it on his own schedule, his mother, his sister, and His Highness William, Prince of the Hamptons, be damned.
“Shh!” his mother hissed as someone knocked on the door. “And try not to limp too badly.”
Then she waited. Stood still as a statue. Adam refrained from rolling his eyes, but only just. She always did this thing where she waited to answer the door because she didn’t want to seem overeager. Adam was pretty sure the length of time she waited was proportional to how impressed she was by the person on the other side. William Ellison merited a full thirty seconds.
“William!” Adam’s mother managed to infuse her voice with just a hint of surprise, as if she hadn’t invited William—as if she hadn’t literally been pacing the floor on the other side of the door anticipating his arrival. She ushered him in, said, “I’m so pleased to introduce you to my son Adam,” and Adam knew.
William was gay.
His mother had neglected to mention that.
Adam had never had particularly reliable gaydar—Henry McGuire, for example, had surprised him. But there was no mistaking the look William gave him as he drawled, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Adam was sure he had. The question was whether any of it was true.
William was older than Adam would have expected—his mother idealized youth, after all. Adam put him in his very late forties. He was tall and dark with a neatly trimmed beard that contained some silver. He wore loose ecru linen pants and a long-sleeved pale pink button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to above his elbows. He was generically handsome. Adam had always thought there was beauty in imperfection—in a vine that had become gnarled as it refused to grow in the direction you wanted it to.
In Freddy’s broken nose.
William had no imperfections to speak of. If there was such a thing as Hamptons Ken, William was it.
Suddenly, his mother and sister’s cryptic scheming of last night made sense—they were aiming to fix him up with William. Which was weird. His mother, to her credit, didn’t do that. Probably because Adam was generally beneath her notice, but he benefited from her inattention in that regard. He wondered what nefarious purpose she had in mind here.
Despite his unease, Adam did what was required of him. He always did, though honestly, he was beginning to question why. He shook hands—William held his just a beat too long—and smiled and offered to make William a drink.
William wasn’t bad company. Adam felt a little guilty. What did it say about him how suspicious he automatically was of anyone who would associate with his family? But William turned out to be funny and good-natured. He seemed to have more of a handle on the reality of the situation than Adam would have expected. Once, when his mother and Betsy were carrying on about Gwyneth—when were they ever going to see her?—William caught Adam’s eye and winked. Then he said, all solicitousness, “I’m sorry, ladies. My reach only extends so far. My wine doesn’t make the cut at Gwyneth’s parties.”
Adam’s mother made a dismissive gesture. “Your wine is wonderful. I’m sure Gwyneth simply hasn’t had the chance to try it yet.”
William shrugged. “I do what I can, but this is Long Island, not Provence.” He aimed another wink at Adam, who found himself charmed by William’s easy self-deprecation.
“When we meet Gwyneth,” Betsy said, “we’ll give her a bottle.”
“You are too kind,” William said.
The rest of the evening went like that, William displaying genuine and seemingly unconditional kindness to Adam’s relatives and, at the same time, sharing conspiratorial glances with Adam. He and Adam spent a fair amount of time talking about wine. It was nice, even if it did make him think about how much he missed Kellynch. About what he had lost.
But all in all, Adam was surprised by how much he liked William.
And by how flattered he was to get a text from him the next morning.
I wondered if you’d like to join me for a drink this evening.
Alone in his bedroom at Harry’s pool house, he grinned. It wasn’t that he was attracted to William. He was a little too perfect. A little too smooth and plastic: Middle-Aged Hamptons Ken. But still, it was invigorating to sought after by a man like that. To be asked out directly, with no dissembling.
He hesitated over his response. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to go on a date-date with William. But then, as a thought experiment, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like if he did. He had enjoyed the man’s company last night. It wasn’t like anything physical had to happen. And how about another thought experiment? What if something physical did happen? Would that be the end of the world? He was young, single, and on vacation.
And as much as he wished he could pretend otherwise, Freddy didn’t want him.
He picked up his phone. His mother would counsel him not to answer right away so as not to seem overeager. Screw that.
Adam: I actually have plans to go see a friend of mine who’s performing tonight at Blue Dolphin. Would you like to join me there?
Though he’d gone to Rusty’s first performance, Adam hadn’t caught one since and had been planning to go tonight. And hanging out at a bar with something to distract them would make the evening seem less overtly date-like.
William: I would like that very much. Can I pick you up?
Adam thought about it for a second. No. That was too date-y.
Adam: I’ll meet you there. Say ten?
William: Looking forward to it.
Present day
“I think your mother is trying to set us up,” William said with another one of those conspiratorial smiles as soon as they’d sat down at the bar.
Adam was a little taken aback, but also a little charmed, by the forthrightness of this statement.
“I can’t say I mind,” William went on.
“The quest
ion is, what’s in it for her?” Adam said, deciding to meet forthrightness with forthrightness.
“What do you mean?” William leaned in like he was genuinely interested in what Adam had to say.
“I mean my mother. Don’t take this the wrong way. I love her. But her schemes are usually firmly self-serving.”
William threw his head back and laughed. “And that is precisely why I like her. She doesn’t pretend to be anything she’s not.”
“Don’t let you hear her say that. I think she thinks she pretends rather well.”
“Well, perhaps she’s more transparent in her machinations than she intends,” William agreed affably. He rested his chin on his hands. “Unlike you. You don’t scheme at all, do you?”
Adam shrugged. “I don’t really see the point of it.”
“Which is exactly why I like you so much.”
Adam felt a blush starting. Thankfully, the lights went down, and an emcee came onto the little stage to introduce Lady Merlot.
“This is your friend?” William leaned over to talk into Adam’s ear. Was it Adam’s imagination or did he linger there a beat longer than necessary?
Lady Merlot made eye contact as Adam nodded against William’s face, which William still hadn’t fully retracted. Lady Merlot’s eyebrows shot up. Then she smiled. And even though she usually had a strict policy of not talking before her first song, she winked at Adam and said, “This first number goes out to all the lovebirds out there.” Then, damn her, she launched into “Pink Cadillac,” a song bursting with sexual innuendo, switching the pronouns and having “Adam” tempting “his sweetie” instead of the “Eve” of the original song.
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