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They got takeaway coffees at the museum café before heading back out into the streets.
“Are you okay to walk a little more?” Alec asked. Ed was still limping slightly, but he hadn’t complained about it.
“Yeah. It’s nice to see some of the city from street level.”
“Okay, good. Because you can’t come to Edinburgh without seeing the statue of Greyfriars Bobby. It’s a must for all tourists.”
“Greyfriars what?” Ed frowned.
As they walked, Alec told Ed the story of the devoted little dog who’d sat on his master’s grave and refused to leave after leading the funeral procession. Ed was silent, listening intently. “He stayed there round the clock, only leaving once a day to eat,” Alec said. “People tried to entice him away, but he refused, so eventually they built a shelter for him. Fourteen years he guarded his master’s grave until he died himself.”
“Oh my God.” Ed’s voice was choked. “That’s so sad, but it’s also one of the most adorable things I’ve ever heard. What loyalty!”
“I know.” Alec swallowed down the lump in his own throat.
“Bollocks.” Ed wiped his eyes and sniffed. “You made me cry.”
“I’m sorry.” Alec managed an apologetic grin.
“Freaking out over spiders, crying over heartbreaking tales of canine devotion. You’re really seeing me at my best this weekend. This is not what I need when I’m trying to impress you.”
“You are?” Hope leapt in Alec’s chest.
“Of course.” Ed looked at him as if he was stupid. “You’re my boss.”
“Oh, yes.” Alec could have kicked himself. “Well, compassion isn’t a bad quality in a lawyer, so I won’t hold it against you. And we’re even on the phobia front, so you don’t lose any points there either.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They’d arrived at the statue of Greyfriars Bobby now. A small crowd of tourists gathered around it were touching its nose for luck and taking photos.
“Want me to take your picture?” Alec offered.
“Sure.” Ed touched his forefinger to the little dog’s nose, where it was polished gold by the touch of hundreds of thousands of tourists who’d gone before.
“Smile through your tears,” Alec said as he lined up the shot.
“Very funny.”
“Here you go.” Alec showed his phone screen to Ed. He’d captured Ed smiling, a dimple softening his cheek. He tapped the screen a few times, sending the picture to Ed’s phone. “I’ve texted it to you.” He let his thumb hover over the photo for a second, deciding against deleting it. Sentimental, maybe, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the image from his phone. He wanted to keep the memory of this afternoon.
They got back to the hotel around half past five after riding the open-top bus back through rush-hour traffic. It was almost dark now and the castle was lit up, spectacularly dominating the middle of the city.
Ed watched the sights, and Alec watched Ed.
Want and hope warred with doubt. If he made a move now, would Ed give him another chance? And if he did, what would they do when they were back in London next week? What did Alec even want from Ed? In the short term, he wanted whatever Ed would give him, but Alec was afraid it would never be enough.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” he finally asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
Ed turned to look at him and shrugged. “I’m easy.” There was a glint in his eye and a quirk to his lips that made Alec take the challenge.
“Not always, if I recall correctly.”
Ed laughed. “True. But about food, I am. I eat anything.”
“Would you prefer to eat in the hotel, or go out?”
“Out. I’m greedy for more of the city, and it’s a gorgeous evening.” The sky was still clear, the deep blue of twilight fading to black.
“Okay. I know a nice Italian place that’s not too far from the hotel. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.”
In his room, Alec debated changing into something more formal for dinner. But he was comfortable in his jeans and henley, and the restaurant he was taking Ed to wasn’t the sort of place they needed to be smart. He ran a comb through his short dark hair and brushed his teeth—pretty pointless given that he was probably about to go and eat something involving a ton of garlic, but he wanted to make the effort.
It’s not a date, he reminded himself. It’s just two colleagues going out for a meal.
But as he walked along the corridor to Ed’s room, heart pounding and palms damp with sweat, it felt exactly like a date.
“Hi, I’m almost ready.” Ed was wearing the same jeans as earlier but had traded his jumper for a blue-and-grey checked shirt over a white T-shirt. He pulled on a black pea coat and buttoned it up as Alec waited, and then wound his scarf around his neck. “I had a shower and my hair’s still damp.” He ran his hands through it. “I’m going to have terrible hat hair in the restaurant.”
