He wanted to ask what would happen when they had to tell everyone. Would Fredric really risk his relationship with his kids over this? Ilan had more to lose, and it was why he was so shit-scared. It was why that fear was eclipsing the trust he should have had in his best friend. With Julian, he had a love and friendship that spanned most of his life, but there was no blood shared.
His love was probably, on some level, conditional.
But Fredric was worth it, he decided as they stood there with their toes in the sand. He deserved to be worth it.
When the date was over, they didn’t kiss goodnight, but Fredric did press a palm to his cheek and held it there until Ilan’s resolve was so weak, he almost leaned in and took one anyway. And when the door shut, he stood there for long moments and stared at the handle, willing himself not to rush back in and take steps he wasn’t ready for.
His bed felt empty when he got home, and his body ached from lack of rest in the morning, but there was hope on the horizon that had never been there before.
Squinting against the sun and fighting the urge to go home and take a nap, Ilan ducked into the coffee shop across the street from his consultant’s office and got into the line. His fatigue was settling heavy into his bones, so when a voice spoke in his hear, he jumped half a foot.
“Are you stalking me?”
Ilan turned with wide eyes and stared at Preston. “I’m the one who lives here and doesn’t have a job. If anyone’s stalking anyone here…”
Preston laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m kidding. We had an IT training at the rehab facility here. We’re on lunch, and if I don’t get some coffee, I’m going to murder one of these old fuckers who won’t stop going on and on about how much better patient records were the old way.”
Ilan snorted as they moved a customer up. “What, like fountain pens and manila folders?”
Preston rolled his eyes. “Quill and ink.”
Ilan’s grin widened, and he stepped up to the pastry counter, eyeing the brownies he shouldn’t order. “Sounds like a bucket of fun. I can’t wait to go back to work.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic,” Preston said, reaching in front of him to snag one of the boxed lunches from the fridge case, “but are you going back?”
“I am. I actually just got done with making a schedule. I think I’ll be opening up offices in the spring. I’ve got a meeting with a realtor next week to look at a couple of places that used to be med facilities. She said they’d only take a couple of months to get them ready depending on what I need done. I’ve been toying with the idea of having a rehab facility on site.”
Preston’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything until they’d both ordered. Ilan tried to protest when the other man slid his card over, but Preston elbowed him out of the way to sign. In retribution, Ilan shoved whatever cash he had in his pocket in the tip jar, then slid to the end of the counter to wait for his order.
“Paying doesn’t make it a date, you know,” he warned.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you don’t have a lot of friends,” Preston said, rolling his eyes. Ilan crossed his arms over his chest, and Preston shook his head with a sigh. “People can do nice things without expectation. And your protest is pretty fucking rich for the guy who used to pay for everything with his dick.”
“Slut shaming is passé,” Ilan snapped, and Preston’s mouth closed as his cheeks went pink.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” And he sounded contrite.
Taking pity on the man, Ilan waved him off. “It’s fine.”
Preston stared at him a moment, biting his lip. “I meant what I said about not chasing men who were in love with other people, though. This isn’t an attempt to get a second date. You just looked like you could use something nice.”
Ilan stared at his shoes and let out a small sigh. “Sorry. I must seem like an arrogant jackass.”
“You always were,” Preston said with a soft grin. “It’s one of the things I liked about you.”
Ilan huffed and looked up. “It’s no wonder you’re single. You have the worst taste in men.”
“Would you say that to the man you were in love with?” he asked, and Ilan couldn’t hold back his laugh.
“Yes. Especially him, because he deserves way better than the mess I have to offer. But,” he said with a sigh, and Preston’s eyes went wide.
“Wait, so you two…? Your best friend’s dad?”
“I think so,” he said, his voice raising like it was a question. The barista saved him from another long, awkward pause, and he took his coffee to the cream and sugar bar to sweeten it. When he glanced back, he saw Preston was waiting, and he knew he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. They made their way out the side door, then Ilan chose a table in the sun which helped keep the sharp winter breeze at bay. “We had a date the other night. Only, I didn’t realize it was a date until I got there.”
Preston choked on his sip of tea. “How’s that?”
“Because I thought he was dating someone else. I thought I was going over for some apology dinner or something. Then the next thing I know, we’re sitting on the couch drinking wine, holding hands—and he’s telling me he’s had feelings for a while.” Ilan dragged a hand down his face and let out a soft groan. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I think,” Preston said slowly, like he was talking to a small child, “you’d start with, ‘I like you too.’ I mean, this a good thing, right? You told me there was no chance between you two.”
“There wasn’t,” he protested. “There shouldn’t be. It’s like some fucked up plotline. Doctor falls in love with best friend’s dad over the holidays. It’s a made for TV drama where the best friend dies in the end.” He snapped his jaw shut and panicked for a second about sending that out into the universe.
Preston leaned over and gave his hand a pat. “Your best friend is not going to die in the end, and life isn’t a movie, Ilan. This is why I’m glad you walked out on me.”
Ilan glared at him, but he couldn’t begrudge him the sentiment. He was a mess, and he was starting to think the only person that knew their way around it was Fredric. And that made him even more precious. “I have to take him on a date,” he said after taking a long swallow of his coffee.
Preston grinned at him over his mug. “The tragedy.”
“I have to…god. I have to let myself open up. I have to,” he stopped, because he didn’t want to say it. He had to feel things. Fredric was a natural romantic, and Ilan knew that the moment his guard was down, he’d be swept up and carried off, and there was absolutely no coming back from that. If Fredric decided—some months down the line—that Ilan was just too fundamentally flawed to love for the rest of his life, it would carve him hollow and leave him to rot. But now that he knew—now that he had just a taste—he couldn’t walk away.
“You spend most of your life in control,” Preston said into the silence that settled over them. “With work, with your personal life. I mean, you were always like that. We all kind of figured you were bullied as a kid.”