“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 told him it wasn’t going to work. He was nice—he is nice—and it wasn’t his fault. It was all me.”
“I hate when you blame yourself,” Ilan said softly.
Fredric’s eyelashes lowered, and he took a sip of the wine just to soothe his nerves, which were starting to feel raw. “I’m taking responsibility where it’s due, because I was never going to be in a place where I was ready to date Hudson. Or anyone else who isn’t…” He stopped as his fear, for only a single beat of his heart, choked him.
He felt Ilan shift a little closer. “Fredric…”
“I had no idea at the time,” he barreled on. “I’ve spent years not paying attention because I didn’t realize anything was happening. It changed at the wedding.”
Ilan made a very soft, almost pained noise in his throat. “Please don’t…”
“If I don’t now,” Fredric said, letting Ilan hear his desperation, “then I never will, and I can’t live with that regret.”
After an eternal beat of silence, Ilan shifted closer and stiffened like he was bracing himself against the words that were about to come. “Okay,” he said in a near whisper, then cleared his throat. “Okay.”
With permission, Fredric felt the weight of his confession even more, but there was no way he was pulling it back now. “I didn’t know things changed at the wedding. I was too busy dealing with Jacque and with Archer and Julian falling apart. Even when you and I drove over to convince him to fly to Paris, I was too caught up in the moment. I felt something, but it was the holidays, and everyone was just so damn sad.”
Ilan made a choked noise. “That was a rough year.”
“It didn’t feel like a holiday,” Fredric said, remembering the long, quiet night on the sofa with Ilan, “but it was the first Christmas where I was surrounded by the people I loved without the pressure to perform. It was the first holiday in thirty-six years I was allowed to just exist. And you were there, inches away. I could reach out, and you were there any time I needed you.” He felt his eyes get hot, because at the time, the moment had been important. But then it faded into the background—into the sea of so many moments where Ilan had always just been there.
And he was such a fucking fool for not seeing it until now.
“I didn’t know I wanted to kiss you until the other night when you offered,” he went on, and the words got harder, but he forced them out anyway. “I didn’t know I wanted it even when I had my hands on your face and your mouth an inch away from mine. But when you pulled away, I felt like my heart was cracking in half.”
Ilan’s breath was trembling, and Fredric wanted to reach out to see if his hands were doing the same, but he wanted to let Ilan process first.
“When you stayed away for so long, I knew I had fucked this all up, but I couldn’t let you go without trying one more time.”
“Trying what?” Ilan finally managed to ask, and Fredric took that—finally—as permission to reach out.
He found the side of Ilan’s leg with a brush of his fingers, then traced the tips of them upward until he could wrap his hand around Ilan’s wrist and hold him. He was shaking, but not as badly as Fredric feared. “To let this be more.”
Ilan let out something that might have been a sob, but it was so quiet, he couldn’t be sure. Silence stretched between them, and the only thing Fredric had to hold on to was that Ilan hadn’t pulled away. “This is a bad idea, you realize that, right?”
“No,” he answered. “I don’t.”
“Julian…”
“If my son turns his back on either one of us because of this,” he said fiercely, “then he is not the person I raised. I will understand hesitation, and even fear, but this isn’t some one-night stand. It’s not a weekend fling. It’s not an existential crisis,” he added, and he felt Ilan jolt like that was the one thing he was waiting to hear. “You’re not an experiment, Ilan. I’m not trying you out like a pair of shoes I might leave on the rack.”
Ilan shifted closer again, but not close enough. Fredric wanted to tug and pull until there was no space between them at all, but he wasn’t going to. This was as new for Ilan as it was for Fredric, and Ilan was more tender, more raw. Even the idea of being loved was a foreign concept to him—at least, the way Fredric loved him now.
“If it doesn’t work out…” Ilan started, then stopped.
He understood that. With all the joy and hope, fear also existed, wrapped around his heart. But he wasn’t going to let it eclipse what they could have, which was so, so much more. “I just want a chance,” he said, like it was simple, because it was.
“I want,” Ilan started, and then he cleared his throat. “I can’t lose you, Fredric. Do you understand that? You’re all I have left here.”
“That won’t happen.”
Ilan let out a bitter laugh, and when he tugged his wrist away, Fredric let him go. “I’ve seen divorce. Hell, you’ve seen it. You’ve lived it. You watched Julian suffer, you’ve watched people change spouses like socks. I can’t…fuck. I can’t ever be that with you.”
Fredric bowed his head and breathed in deep and tried to find words that weren’t burning with emotion. “I am none of those people,” he said slowly, and he heard Ilan’s breath hitch. “I’ve never been those people. I’m also not asking you to marry me, Ilan. I’m not asking for the world—or the impossible. I’m just asking for a chance to let this be more…if you want it. If you don’t…”