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“Are they your beneficiaries?”
He nodded. “Unless I have children, everything I own will be split between the three.”
“You have more money than they do, right?”
“Combined.”
Royce chuckled. “I love that you say that without any inflection in your tone. It’s just the way it is.”
“I’ve worked hard for what I’ve made. I may have had a solid bump in the beginning with my inheritance, but I made my galleries the success they are now.”
“Maybe this is about jealousy. Maybe one of your older brothers feels he should be ahead of you.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do. I’m sure it grates that the little, gay brother surpassed them.” He knew there was an inflection in his tone then. Pain. All he’d ever wanted was their acceptance. “Look, we’re here!”
His heart warmed at the sight of the farmhouse. He’d called ahead and gotten his favorite room, too. It was one usually reserved for families because it had a couple of extra beds in it, but it was his favorite. It had a small kitchenette and a completely private porch.
He pulled in next to a row of massive pots, already spilling over with flowers Julia had planted and smiled to see Julia and Sam coming out to greet them. He stepped from the car and grinned as Julia swept in for a hug.
“Oh, you beautiful boy! We’re so happy to see you!” She squeezed him, and he hugged her back. She smelled of home-baked bread and apples. “We’re always so happy when you come.”
Sam hugged him next, the big, burly man still sporting a handlebar mustache that made him look a little like Sam Elliott.
Julia moved toward Royce with her hand out. “Marc has never brought a boyfriend here, so we couldn’t wait to see you. It’s good that he didn’t come alone.” She winked. “And you have the house to yourselves, this time.”
“You don’t have other guests? That’s unusual.” Marc frowned.
“We have the upstairs shut down for renovations, so don’t start worrying.”
Royce was friendly but silent as he toured the bed and breakfast. Marc smiled to see the art they’d bought from him still prominently displayed in the main gathering area. Julia and Sam actually lived in the small cottage next to the larger building. They came in the mornings to make breakfast but left the kitchen open for guests to use the rest of the time.
Julia led them into the room they’d be sharing, and it felt a little like coming home. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, matching the wood along two of the walls. A queen-sized bed with a hand-sewn jade quilt was next to the French doors that opened to the small, private porch. Two small, twin beds stretched along the opposite wall, and a small, hand-carved, picnic-style table and seats rested in the middle of the room.
She’d filled the entire area with vases of fresh flowers she must have purchased because it was too early for her gardens to be in full bloom.
Marc turned and gave her another hug. She blushed and left them alone.
“I can see why you love it here,” Royce said as poked his head into the attached bathroom. “Wow.”
Marc joined him, surprised to see the bathroom had been renovated since he’d last been there. It had a much larger shower—big enough for two people, and the tile had been changed to all warm beige and brown with copper accents. An antique sink vanity with a copper, glass vessel sat next to a deep bathtub. A huge piece of wall art was on the wall over the tub and it held ten amber glass candle holders. “I want that for over my bathtub,” he murmured. “But we are so going to take a bath before we leave here.”
Royce smiled. “Think the owners will be coming back?”
“No. The only time they spend any time with guests is breakfast. Why?”
Royce closed the drain on the tub and turned the water on.Chapter Fifteen“I was a wreck after my parents were killed.”
Something in Marc’s voice pulled Royce from the wonder of the scenery around them. They’d been walking through the Boboli Gardens for a couple of hours, and he’d bet they hadn’t seen even half of what the place had to offer. He’d stood in the center of a hundreds-of-years-old amphitheater next to an Egyptian obelisk, feeling the weight of history surrounding him—like he could almost hear the amplified voices of the past. They’d walked past evergreen meadows, fountains, and Roman statues. The sun shone down on their heads, warming the early spring day while a slight breeze balanced it out perfectly. If he hadn’t been so worried about their reason for being here, this would be the perfect vacation.
Marc Foster had a lot to do with that.
Now they stood in a tunnel of trees, the foliage to the sides and overhead creating hidden pockets of shadows that made Royce think about trapping Marc in a few. Over the last hour, he’d grown more pensive. Royce stopped walking and reached out to grasp Marc’s hand. It was cold, so he pulled him close and put it between his two.
