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“Andrew?” Mrs. Meyer said from behind the door. “I have dinner ready.”

Andrew cupped a hand over his mouth to stifle the cry of worry that was threatening to burst forth. Normally, Edwin would have been gone by now. Oh, what a horrible mistake they’d made by taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon! Andrew’s eyes wandered over to the wall clock. It hadn’t even been a short nap, either. They’d slept for three hours. Dammit, how could he have let this happen?!

Knock, knock, knock.

Andrew felt Edwin nudge him with his foot, prompting him to finally remove his hand from his face so that he could try to respond.

“I, uhm, I’ll be there in a few minutes! Thank you!” he managed to yell back, but he winced upon hearing the obvious panic in his voice. It suddenly struck him that Mrs. Meyer might see Edwin leave. Perhaps he ought to at least mention Edwin’s presence, then. “I . . . have my friend Edwin here as well. He’s the one who’s been helping me with the studio. So, I’ll see him out and—”

“Nonsense. Ask him to stay. I made more than enough food.”

Andrew looked over at Edwin, who was still in a state of mild shock.

“Do you want to stay?” he mouthed.

Edwin simply stared back at him. Andrew couldn’t wait any longer to respond.

“A-all right,” he said. “Yes, I’ll bring him.”

“Wonderful. I’ll put out another plate.” Andrew heard the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of Mrs. Meyer’s shoes shuffling toward the staircase. “Come as soon as you’re ready!”

“We will!” Andrew called back. Listening to his landlady’s footsteps retreat, Andrew buried his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Edwin.”

Edwin sat up beside him. “Do you think she’ll . . . suspect anything?”

“I have no idea,” Andrew said, his voice still muffled. He removed his hands from his face. “I suppose we’ll have to hope that the concept of two men being intimate has never crossed her mind.”

Drat. Again.

Andrew shut his eyes. Edwin’s hand found his, but rather than hold it, the man began creating a shape on the back with his index finger. His movements felt purposeful, like Edwin was creating some specific symbol rather than just raking his finger over Andrew’s skin at random. When Edwin repeated the motion, Andrew forced himself to concentrate on the sensation, and he realized that Edwin was making a little heart shape. Andrew’s lips curled into a smile, and calmness settled over him. He managed to flutter his eyes open.

“Thank you,” Andrew said softly. He smiled at Edwin, and Edwin smiled back. Andrew let out a breath. “All right, maybe we can tell her that we were buffing the edges of a new set of collodion plates or something. If she asks.”

“Sounds good, Andrew,” Edwin said sweetly.

Andrew reached up and pushed a hand through Edwin’s hair to smooth it out some with his fingers. At the very least, they ought to try not to look as though they’d been rolling around in bed together. Afterward, he attempted to fix his own hair. Edwin helped.

Once Andrew was finished fixing both his hair and his clothes, he and Edwin left for the first floor of the boarding house. They made their way to the dining room, where Andrew and Mrs. Meyer usually had their meals (and, last year, the room was where they’d eaten with another boarder who had been living on the second floor, though that fellow had moved out after just a couple of months).

Seated at the table, Mrs. Meyer was waiting for them wearing a warm smile.

“Apologies for taking so long,” Andrew said. “We, uhm, well, we were buffing a batch of my collodion plates. It was intensive work, so . . .” He let out a breath. “Anyway, I hope the food isn’t cold. Or, if it is, then I hope you were able to have some while it was still warm before.”

Mrs. Meyer laughed lightly. “It’s fine, Andrew. I’m sure the roast pan kept everything warm enough.” She stood and walked over to Edwin, holding out her hand for him to shake. He took it straightaway. “I’m Andrew’s landlady, Prudence Meyer.”

“Edwin,” Edwin replied, though his voice was somewhat raspy. He proceeded to clear his throat. “Edwin Beasley.”

“Beasley,” she repeated. “I’ve heard that name before, though I can’t remember where.”

“Edwin’s family lives nearby,” Andrew chimed in.

“Ah, I see,” she said, her warm smile widening. “Well, let’s have our dinner, shall we?”

Edwin and Andrew sat across from each other at the long table. Mrs. Meyer fixed a plate of food for each of them—roast chicken with root vegetables and potatoes. It was a meal Andrew had become rather fond of. Mrs. Meyer made it weekly.

“Looks wonderful,” Andrew said as he set his white linen napkin on his lap.

“Oh, I make this far too often. I thought you’d be sick of it by now.”