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Hank pulled into a parking spot and turned off the engine. Through the restaurant windows, he could see diners laughing, talking, living their uncomplicated lives.

“It might change things,” he said. “When you know.”

Chad’s hand squeezed his thigh. “Then it changes things. But I’m not going anywhere until I hear it.”

Hank looked at him—at those blue eyes, steady and open—and felt something give way in his chest. Not breaking, but closer to thawing.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

They got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant, shoulders brushing. The First Kiss canvas was still in the gallery, but Hank already knew where it would hang in his apartment. On the wall across from his couch, where he’d be sure to see it every day.

Don’t make me regret it.

CHAPTER 4

Chad had been on plenty of bad first dates. The guy who spent the entire meal narrating his breakup like it was a TED Talk. The one who looked nothing like his profile photo. The political aide who’d taken a call halfway through appetizers and left Chad sitting alone with the check and a basket of garlic bread he hadn’t ordered.

But he’d never been on a date that felt like this.

Hank held doors. Hank asked questions and actually listened to the answers. Hank had looked at Chad’s painting like it was hanging in the National Gallery instead of a student exhibition that would be taken down in two weeks.

And now Hank was sitting across from him at a booth at Ted’s Bulletin—a co-worker’s recommendation, apparently—studying the menu with the kind of intense focus most people reserved for tax returns, and Chad couldn’t stop smiling.

Stop it. You look deranged.

“I’m dying to try the loaded tater tots,” Hank said, “but the deviled eggs are singing to me.” He looked up, meeting Chad’s eyes. “What sounds good to you?”

“They both sound good.”

A server appeared—a middle-aged woman, kind face, name tag reading Marsha. “Hi, I’m Marsha. Welcome to Ted’s. What can I start you two off with tonight?”

Hank didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take the tater tots and the deviled eggs. And some of that fried cauliflower too.”

Chad laughed. “You’re out of control.”

“I’m hungry.” Hank’s eyes held his across the table. “And I’m very happy to be here.”

Hank said things like that—just said them, no setup, no deflection, no ironic distance. Like sincerity was a language he’d never learned to be embarrassed by.

You have no defenses against this man. None.

“Got it,” Marsha said, scribbling on her pad. “Do you two need more time, or do you want me to put in your entrées too?”

Hank looked at Chad. “You ready?”

Chad scanned the menu. Everything looked incredible, and he was starving. “I’ll have the Peanut Butter Bacon Burger, because it sounds delicious and terrifying at the same time.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Marsha said.

“And I’ll have the meatloaf.”

“My favorite. Do you fellas want shakes to go with that?”

Chad glanced at the dessert menu, overwhelmed by the options, and Hank stepped in. “Let’s wait on dessert. We’ll both have water for now. Unless you want something else?”

“Water’s fine.”

“Great.” Marsha collected the menus. “I’ll have your appetizers out soon.”