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Ever since Andrew had injured himself, Edwin had been heading to the Whitney mansion ludicrously early in the mornings, completing his work there before nine so that he could be back to open the photography studio with Andrew afterward. It couldn’t have been easy to manage all of that, especially in the wintertime.

Glancing over at Edwin, Andrew let out a soft sigh. Despite the fact that Edwin leaving the studio was for the best, Andrew would miss working together. Hopefully, though, their romantic relationship could continue on in the same manner even once Edwin wasn’t working in the studio anymore.

Edwin caught Andrew’s eye and frowned.

“You’re upset,” he said plainly.

“Only pensive,” Andrew lied. Edwin crooked an eyebrow in a skeptical manner, and Andrew huffed a soft laugh. “All right, I’m a little upset. But only because I know things are going to change soon.”

“Are they?” Edwin asked.

“You’re not going to work with me forever, are you?” Andrew asked.

Edwin made a sharp left onto a brick walkway.

“Hold that thought,” he said. “We’re here. And I’m sure Agnes will be waiting for us. I bet she and my mother have the food ready as well. My mother is eager to repay you for having me stay for dinner yesterday.”

“Doesn’t she realize that I’m not the one who cooked?” Andrew asked with an amused shake of his head.

Edwin chuckled as they neared the door. “Yes, she does. But you pay rent there, which covers at least some of the cost of food, so I suppose she thought that she should thank you as well. Besides, it isn’t as though she’d have your landlady over since they’ve never met.” Edwin retrieved his keys from his pocket. “I imagine she’ll mail Mrs. Meyer a letter thanking her, though.”

“That would be very kind of her,” Andrew said. When he heard the click of the lock, he reached out to touch Edwin’s arm. “So, both Agnes and your mother know that we—”

“They do,” Edwin confirmed in a hushed tone. “But we should refrain from making comments about it. I can tell my mother is still . . . in the process of trying to understand everything.”

Andrew’s chest pinched. “I’m sorry, Edwin. How nerve-wracking that must be.”

“It’s not so bad,” Edwin said with a shrug. “I really do think she’ll open her heart to the idea eventually. Lord knows I’ve shocked her about other, possibly even more surprising things in recent years.”

Before Andrew could ask Edwin to explain, Edwin opened the door. Agnes was there to greet them, just like Edwin had predicted.

“You’re late,” she chastised, throwing up one of her hands.

“Only by fifteen minutes,” Edwin countered as he made his way into the house.

“But I tried to time the food perfectly,” Agnes complained. “Now the rolls won’t be the right temperature.”

“Good. You like to serve them too hot for me to even pick up without burning my fingers.”

“So, you were late on purpose, then,” Agnes chided playfully, placing a hand on her hip.

Smiling wryly, Edwin shrugged one of his shoulders. “Perhaps.”

Agnes rolled her eyes before she looked over at Andrew. “Good evening, Andrew. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Andrew confirmed with a smile as he removed his overcoat.

Once Andrew finished hanging it on the hook, Agnes pulled him in for an unexpected hug. After a brief moment of hesitation, Andrew managed to hug her back, and his chest constricted as he squeezed her.

“Thank you for coming,” she said as they parted.

Andrew let out a shaky breath. “Of course.”

Edwin started across the room. Andrew followed. Gratitude and fondness and longing continued to bubble in his chest, the swirl of emotions making him feel wobbly and even more unprepared for the meal ahead. Distracted by the sensation, Andrew tripped over a rogue shoe on the floor, and he slammed into Edwin from behind just before they reached the hallway.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Edwin said through a laugh, stumbling forward.

“Sorry!” Andrew spluttered as Edwin spun to face him.