Chapter Twelve, Part II

Dinner Went Well

They talk about work. Not the details of procedures or aircraft types, but the rhythm of leaving. The strange intimacy of sharing a confined space with people and then never seeing them again. The speed with which Adrian can learn what someone needs without knowing anything about the life waiting for them on the ground.

“You like knowing what’s expected,” Jack says.

“I like knowing what needs to be done.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No?”

“No. One comes from other people. The other comes from you.”

Adrian watches him. “You’ve been thinking about me.”

“Had a long drive.”

“And what conclusion did you reach?”

“That you’re good at taking care of people.”

Adrian waits.

Jack turns his glass between his fingers. “Not so good at letting anyone take care of you.”

The answer lands closer than Adrian expects.

He looks down at his wine.

Jack does not press.

Instead, he reaches for the bottle of water between them at the same moment Adrian does.

Their fingers meet around the glass.

Jack’s thumb brushes once across the side of Adrian’s hand before he lets go.

It could have been accidental.

Adrian knows it was not.

He pours the water. “Subtle,” he says.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not.”

The plates are cleared.

Jack orders another beer. Adrian stays with the same glass of wine, drinking slowly now because he does not want the evening to move too quickly.

The conversation pauses.

Jack turns his glass between his fingers.

Adrian watches his hands. The lines across the knuckles. The faint mark of grease near one thumbnail that the shower had not quite removed.

“Do you miss Mark?” Adrian asks.

Jack looks up. “No.”

The answer comes too quickly.

Adrian raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t miss him,” Jack says.

Adrian waits.

Jack exhales and looks toward the window. Outside, small lights glow beneath the trees.

“I miss knowing what the evening would look like before I got there.”

“So you miss what he was offering.”

“Parts of it.”

Jack turns his glass between his fingers. “He wanted everything neat. Not just the house. Plans. Meals. Weekends. Where things were going.”

“And you felt managed.”

“I felt like there was already a space cut out for me. I just had to fit inside it.”

“Did he actually ask you to become someone else?”

Jack’s gaze drops to the glass in his hand. “At the time, that’s how it felt.”

“And now?”

Jack runs his thumb along the rim. “Now I think maybe he wanted proof there was room for him.”

Adrian stays quiet.

“I wasn’t good at that,” Jack says.

“At making room?”

“At letting someone know I had.”

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

“No.”

The silence that follows is not uncomfortable.

Jack lifts his eyes. “You think you’d be different?”

Adrian leans back. “I don’t know Mark.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I like clean sheets and a functioning kitchen.”

“You’d hate my place.”

“I didn’t hate your place.”

“You were there for three days.”

“And I noticed you own cleaning products.”

“Mike bought those.”

Adrian laughs, and Jack’s expression warms at the sound.

Then Adrian lets his own expression settle. “I don’t want chaos. I just don’t think everything has to be polished before it can be worth wanting.”

Jack goes still.

His hand rests on the table between them. Close enough that Adrian can see the roughness of his skin.

Adrian moves his own hand slightly.

Their little fingers touch.

Jack looks down. Then back at him.

Neither moves away.

“You make that sound obvious,” Jack says quietly.

“Perhaps it is.”

Jack turns his hand just slightly, so the side of it rests against Adrian’s.

“Your turn,” he says.

“My turn for what?”

“Daniel.”

Adrian’s hand stills.

Jack does not remove his.

“Did you ever ask him to stay?”

“No.”

“Did you want him to?”

Adrian looks at their hands. “Yes.”

Jack’s thumb shifts once against the side of his palm. “Why didn’t you ask?”

“He had made his decision.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Adrian looks up.

Jack’s expression is calm. Only attentive.

Adrian could give him the practical answer. Daniel had packed. Daniel had arranged somewhere else to stay. Daniel had already said the things people say when they want to make a departure sound kind.

Instead, Adrian says, “Because if I asked him and he still left, I wouldn’t have been able to pretend it was mutual.”

Jack’s face softens.

“Was that what you told yourself?”

“That we had both known it was over.”

“Had you?”

Adrian takes a breath. “We knew something was wrong.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No.”

Jack does not tell him Daniel might have stayed. Adrian is grateful for that.

“I thought not asking was dignity,” Adrian says.

“And now?”

Adrian glances toward the window. “Now I think it may have been fear.”

Jack’s leg returns to his beneath the table. The contact is firmer this time.

Adrian looks at him.

“You were afraid he’d say no,” Jack says.

“Yes.”

“And he left anyway.”

“Yes.”

Jack nods once. “That’s rough.”

The plainness of it makes Adrian smile despite himself. “That is your professional assessment?”

“Very technical.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Their hands remain beside each other on the table.

Adrian turns his palm slightly upward.

Jack’s fingers close around it.

For several seconds, they sit like that without speaking.

Then Adrian says, “So you move the line whenever someone gets close.”

“And you wait until they leave before admitting you wanted them.”

Adrian lifts his glass with his free hand. “We appear exceptionally well suited.”

“Disaster waiting to happen.”

“Apparently.”

Jack touches his beer to Adrian’s glass.

Dessert arrives.

Jack claims he does not want any, then eats half of Adrian’s.

“This is theft,” Adrian says.

“You ordered it in public.”

“That doesn’t make it communal property.”

“Different laws here.”

“Is that in the Constitution?”

“Probably.”

Adrian moves the plate farther away.

Jack’s hand follows the plate.

Their fingers collide around the fork.

This time, Jack does not pretend it is accidental.

He takes the fork from Adrian’s hand, eats another bite, and holds Adrian’s gaze while doing it.

Adrian feels warmth gather low in his body.

Jack places the fork down.

“Good?” Adrian asks.

“Very.”

They are no longer discussing dessert.

By the time they leave the restaurant, the coastal air has turned cold.

Adrian puts on his jacket.

Jack remains in the olive-green T-shirt.

“You’re not cold?”

“No.”

“You’re wearing a T-shirt.”

“I noticed.”

“You’re very masculine.”

“So I’ve been told.”

They walk without deciding where they are going.

The town has quieted. Most of the shops are closed, their windows reflecting streetlights and the occasional passing car. Somewhere nearby, the ocean can be heard before it can be seen.

They follow the sound.

A wooden path runs above the dark beach. The sea is nearly black beneath the clouded sky, the waves breaking in pale lines along the shore.

Adrian stops at the railing.

Jack stands beside him.

For a while, neither speaks.

The wind lifts the front of Adrian’s shirt and pushes cold air beneath his jacket. Jack moves closer until their shoulders touch.

“This is our first date,” Adrian says.

Jack looks at him. “I picked you up at a train station, drove you to the coast, fed you, and asked about your ex.”

“Very romantic.”

“I thought so.”

“You also ordered me to drink water.”

“You needed it.”

Jack says it with such complete sincerity that Adrian laughs.

He looks out at the ocean again. “And what normally happens after a first date with Jack?”

“Usually somebody tries to work out whether I’m worth the trouble.”

“And are you?”

“Depends on the trouble.”

Adrian turns toward him. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Am I worth it?”

Jack looks almost offended. “I drove six hours.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the answer you’re getting.”

Adrian faces the ocean again, smiling to himself.

A few seconds later, Jack’s hand closes around his.

There is no announcement.

No glance around to see who might notice.

Just Jack’s warm, rough palm and the steady pressure of his fingers.

Adrian looks down at their joined hands. “You’re becoming very bold.”

“You came all this way.”

“So did you.”

Jack gives his hand a small squeeze. “Exactly.”

They continue along the path.

Jack does not release his hand.

By the time they return to the cottage, Adrian is still tired from the flight and the train, but it no longer feels like something he has to manage alone.

Inside, Jack switches on a lamp near the sofa.

The room fills with warm amber light.

Adrian removes his jacket and places it over the back of a chair. Jack opens one of the windows slightly, letting in the sound of the ocean.

Then he crosses to a small speaker near the bookshelves and connects his phone.