Page 55 of Familiar Things New

He’d unbound his chest.

Panic clawed up his throat. He couldn’t let Andrew see him like this. Not now. Not ever. Even though Edwin’s chest was small, relatively speaking, it was still . . . oh, God, it was still wrong for him. It felt wrong. It looked wrong. And if Andrew ever—

No.

“Edwin?” Andrew repeated, knocking once more. “Are you upset with me?”

Cringing, Edwin squeezed his eyes shut.

“N-no,” he managed. “I’m not upset. But I need a moment to . . . to find my robe.”

Yes, that was it. Perhaps he could maybe hide his chest, at least a little, by wearing his favorite robe. Edwin bolted over to his luggage and then threw it open. He began searching wildly, flinging things haphazardly around the room as he sifted through the contents. Had he forgotten to pack his robe?!

Damn!

“I-I can’t seem to find it. I’m in my nightshirt.”

In a much quieter voice, Andrew said, “I won’t mind. Really. And I was being honest before when I said that I’m happy with the way things are between us right now. Me coming in there . . . I’m not expecting . . . anything.”

Edwin’s heart sank. Oh, Andrew. Sweet, sweet man. It wasn’t about that. Or, rather, it wasn’t only about that.

“Can I still come in?” Andrew asked.

Edwin let out a breath and buried his head in his hands. How he hated this.

“No,” he said into his palms.

“Edwin? Sorry, I couldn’t—”

“No,” Edwin said more forcefully as he let his hands fall from his face. Cringing, he raked one of them through his hair and let out a breath in order to calm himself. “Andrew, I’m sorry, but I can’t see you right now. I want to be alone.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure? I have a whole plate of food. And—and I won’t stay long.”

Edwin sighed softly. “I’m sure.”

Edwin’s reply—his rejection—seemed to linger, hovering in the silence.

And then, in a whispered tone, Andrew said, “I’m sorry, Edwin. Did I ruin things between us somehow? I only took so long to check on you because I wanted to try to be polite to William and Miss Bidwell. And then I thought I should try to find some food. For myself. And then, for you. And my knee is still bothering me, so once the wine began to wear off, I found it difficult to—”

“Andrew,” Edwin clipped pleadingly.

Crossing his arms, Edwin pressed firmly on his chest. If only he could flatten it. He had the thought even though knew that such a thing wouldn’t ever be possible. Still, he pressed harder.

And he wished for the impossible anyway.

One minute passed. Or perhaps longer. And Edwin found himself confronted with the terrible reality that no matter how much he liked Andrew and no matter how much Andrew liked him in return, his body would forever be what it was. And therefore, he’d never be the sort of man worthy of that like.

Eyes tearing, Edwin swallowed thickly and said, “Please. Go.”

“A-all right,” Andrew replied, his voice now a bit shaky. “I’ll leave the plate here, though? In case you want it?”

Guilt churned in Edwin’s stomach. Would he even be able to eat now?

Through a forceful sigh, Edwin replied, “That’s fine.” He winced from the terseness in his voice and softened his tone. “Thank you.”

Porcelain clattered softly on the hardwood, and then Andrew walked off. Shame and self-reproach curdled harshly in Edwin’s stomach, and the feelings only intensified with the sound of each of Andrew’s retreating footsteps.