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“Just a, uhm, a little,” Andrew admitted sheepishly.

Guilt pinched at Edwin’s chest. “Oh, Andrew,” he said. “I promised I would.”

“I know,” Andrew replied through a cringe.

“Don’t worry. I’m happy you’re here,” Edwin said, making his voice as warm as he could. “It’s never not wonderful to see you.”

Turning to head back to the conservatory, Edwin motioned for Andrew to follow. Thank God the Whitneys were still asleep. Edwin and Andrew would have plenty of privacy in the conservatory, especially if they kept their voices low.

Once they arrived, Edwin began to search for a place where they could be out of view (not an easy task, considering the conservatory’s glass walls). It took some effort, but he found one. He pulled Andrew into a corner, behind the palms, being careful not to walk too fast because of Andrew’s knee. Immediately, the men found each other’s hands, lifting them and pressing their palms together in the same manner they had on their trip.

“I missed you,” Andrew said. “I know how ridiculous that is. It’s only been fifteen hours or so. But I really have missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Edwin said, interlocking their fingers.

They stood like that for a few beautiful seconds before finally letting go.

“Have you, uhm, have you figured things out?” Andrew asked. “In regard to our . . . being together?”

“Not really,” Edwin said, frowning.

“Can I help?” Andrew asked hopefully. “That’s probably a silly thing to ask, but still, I’d like to help.”

Edwin almost smiled. What a sweet man Andrew was.

“Just tell me what you need. Or at least tell me what’s troubling you,” Andrew pressed.

“It’s . . .” Edwin paused and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, wondering how he could be honest about what the problem was while still not exactly revealing the truth. It seemed impossible. But he had to try. “Intimacy is . . . hard for me. Physical intimacy, in particular. And, so, while there are things that I very much want to try with you, I’m not sure if they’ll ever be . . . possible.”

“I’d be happy without those kinds of things, whatever they are. I like being with you. I want to be with you. However it is that we can be together. Talking. Writing letters. Holding hands.” Shrugging his shoulders that same somewhat boyish manner again, Andrew smiled sweetly. “It’s whatever you want, Edwin. I’ll be happy with . . . well, with whatever will make you happy.”

Gratitude bubbled up in Edwin’s chest, and his throat tightened. He swallowed thickly, forcing saliva through the lump of emotions that was making it hard for him to breathe. But then, predictably, uncertainty began to claw at Edwin’s mind. Because how could Andrew be happy without intimacy? Edwin himself wanted intimacy. Oh, God, he craved it, even. Whether or not it was his to ever be able to have.

“I’m worried I’ll hurt you. Or that you’ll hurt me,” Edwin confessed. “One day, Andrew, you’ll want more. You’ll need more. And then . . .”

And then either Edwin would reveal the truth, and Andrew would inevitably leave. Or Edwin would stand firm in his relative celibacy, and then Andrew would . . . well, he would probably leave then, too, wouldn’t he?

Edwin looked into Andrew’s brown eyes, and they were so Goddamned beautiful, so Goddamned kind, he swore he felt his heart crack a little. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was what life would be like for him—subjecting himself to continuous heartbreak, either from platonic relationships or romantic ones.

But then Andrew took Edwin’s hand and squeezed his fingers, and the sweetness of the moment keeping him from spiraling into a bout of self-pity.

“And then I will remember this promise I made to you,” Andrew said warmly. “I will remember the promise I made and how lucky I am to have found you. And I will not push for more.”

Edwin’s vision became clouded with tears. And even though those wonderful, wonderful words seemed too incredible to be true, he wanted to believe in them. And perhaps that would have to be enough.

“All right,” Edwin said, his voice small and throat tight. He took a pause to try to compose himself. “All right, then maybe . . . maybe we can try to be together. I’d even like to try to be together . . . intimately. Like yesterday. I think more of that . . . well, maybe more of that could be—”

“Fun?” Andrew suggested with a playful smile.

Edwin chuckled softly. “I was going to say maybe more of that sort of intimacy could be tolerable for me, but yes, it would definitely be fun.” Edwin rubbed the back of Andrew’s hand with his thumb. “And perhaps, eventually, someday . . . I can be the one to help you find pleasure, too. If that’s something you’d . . . want.”

Edwin’s entire body began to burn from the boldness and bluntness of that suggestion. Andrew’s face flushed a shade of red that would have rivaled the vibrant rabbit ear plants in the height of summer.

“Oh, uhm, I, wow, Edwin, that would be . . . oh, God, that would be . . .”

“Tolerable?” Edwin teased, laughing some more, his face tingling with warmth.

“Extremely tolerable,” Andrew spluttered through a laugh. “Honestly, I-I think the exact word for just how tolerable that would be . . . it hasn’t even been invented yet.”