Page 72 of Familiar Things New

“William and I will figure out that last part. As for the money, I’ll have to find a second job. Perhaps I can continue working with Andrew for a while. I can even help him advertise. Grow his photography business somehow. Or, well, if things fall apart with Andrew, then I can find something else instead. I’m sure of it. Now, I may not have the physique to work in a mill or the lumber yard, but I can look into other things. Print shops. Restaurants. Even . . . tailoring.”

Agnes’s eyes lit up. “You’d want to follow in Father’s footsteps?”

“Maybe,” he said, his cheeks warming. “I never felt confident enough before. But I’m starting to think I might be able to manage it.”

“You’d really venture out on your own? For me?” she asked.

Smiling warmly, Edwin nodded. “Of course I would.”

Agnes’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked a few times, obviously trying to keep them from falling, and then picked up her wineglass. Edwin picked his up, too. Simultaneously, they brought their glasses to their lips.

After swallowing, Edwin wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“I’ll talk to William next week. I want to wait until Andrew’s knee is better. Once it is, I’ll head over to the conservatory at a more reasonable hour and speak with him.”

“Thank you, Edwin,” Agnes said, reaching for his hand.

He took her hand and squeezed it.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

Just then, the waiter came over to take the rest of their order. Chin held high, Edwin chose a main course for each of them from the menu, and as the words fell from his lips, self-pride swelled in his chest. Finally, he was becoming the brother—the man—he’d always wanted to be.

Chapter Nineteen

Andrew

Andrew was standing by his worktable as Edwin showed their final clients out of the studio. It was half past three, and Andrew was more than ready to be finished with work for the day, even though, truth be told, Edwin had handled most of it, just like he had for the last few weeks. Had Andrew not been paying Edwin well for his time, he would have felt guilty about the man running his business temporarily. But he’d been giving Edwin half of Thompson’s Photography Studio’s earnings. It was only fair.

Unfortunately for Andrew, though, this meant that he’d probably be unable to pay his full rent that month. He’d come close, at least, thanks to the party he’d photographed for the Whitney family, but he’d still come up short unless they had an unusually busy few days ahead of them. Mrs. Meyer would probably end up being frustrated with him, but hopefully not overly so. She and Andrew had been having a nice time together each week playing cards. And, of course, they’d been having dinners together regularly as well, like before. Hopefully, between these two things, Andrew had cultivated enough of a relationship with her so as to prevent her from becoming too upset for the late payment. Mrs. Meyer had been so caring, so motherly, even, as of late that she almost reminded Andrew of his mother sometimes, though the woman was quite a bit older.

Andrew’s stomach soured a little at the thought of his mother, and the familiar sting of loneliness caused a pinching in his chest. Even though Andrew hadn’t been feeling as lonely over the last few months as he’d once felt—after all, he had some wonderful people in his life now—the heart-wrenching pain of having lost his entire family hadn’t vanished. Yes, it had faded a little. Or maybe even a lot. But the hurt still lingered, flaring up like an old injury when Andrew least expected it.

He was starting to wonder whether this particular wound would ever heal.

All of a sudden, Edwin flung open the door to the studio, and it yanked Andrew out of his negative thoughts. Edwin’s small smile widened as he started over, kicking the door shut with his heel on the way. Andrew’s melancholy was replaced with a warm rush of elation, as Edwin’s smile was both infectious and mesmerizing.

Edwin caught Andrew’s mouth in a searing kiss. Andrew leaned into it, laughing against Edwin’s mouth when Edwin grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him closer. Edwin’s tongue began to tease his, and Andrew startled a little before taking a step back. He put out his hand to steady himself and inadvertently knocked over an empty bottle of something that had been resting on the worktable.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as soon as Edwin’s mouth was on his again.

“Stop that,” Edwin scolded.

Edwin took Andrew’s bottom lip into his mouth and nibbled on it.

Andrew hummed and chuckled as Edwin then fisted his hair. Blood rushed to his cock in response to Edwin’s roughness as well as in anticipation of what was to come.

In either thirty seconds or a half hour—seemingly nothing in between—Edwin would instruct Andrew to take off his pants. Then Andrew would pleasure himself while Edwin watched, his eyes wide and wild and hungry. And Andrew would somehow push past his lingering sense of embarrassment about it all and make himself come.

Muscles tensing, Andrew fought back the urge to thrust his hips forward, even though he wanted nothing more than to massage his hardness against Edwin’s hip. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because Edwin would scold him for it.

Edwin was playfully strict about when and whether Andrew was allowed to pleasure himself. And to Andrew’s surprise, he found he liked it that way. He liked that he never knew how long Edwin would want to kiss before it progressed to something more. He liked not being able to touch himself until Edwin explicitly permitted him to. While Andrew wasn’t sure why either he or Edwin liked this interesting dynamic they’d settled on, he knew that he did like it and that he was happy.

And he was happy that Edwin seemed happy, too.

“Andrew,” Edwin rasped out. Andrew’s knees weakened upon hearing Edwin’s husky tone. “Are you hard?”

“Yes,” Andrew said between kisses. “Very.”