Page 97 of Familiar Things New

“It’s still snowing,” he said.

Andrew rolled onto his back so that he could see it too.

“It is,” he said before turning back to face Edwin. “I’m a little surprised, to be honest. The weather has been so mild lately. I wonder how long it will continue. Or whether it’s even sticking.”

“It’s a nice excuse, though, isn’t it?” Edwin said with a small smile. “For me to stay?”

Andrew smiled back. “It’s the perfect excuse.”

Edwin pressed a long kiss to Andrew’s lips, and Andrew hummed.

When Edwin pulled away, he arched an eyebrow and said, “I have to know something.”

“Anything.”

“Before I came here today, what did you think of me? I mean, I know I was hurting you. I kept pushing you away, kept holding you at arm’s length, either physically or emotionally or oftentimes both.” Edwin’s brows pinched, and his hazel eyes turned sorrowful. “I still can’t believe you continued to like me, knowing how much I put you through.”

“Don’t talk like that, Edwin,” Andrew said with what he prayed was a reassuring smile. “Goodness, there was so much to like about you.”

“But you must have been confused about my behavior, weren’t you?”

Andrew considered this. The heartache he’d been feeling earlier was still so freshly healed that thinking about how Edwin had hurt him was akin to pressing on a newly fading bruise, and his smile fell away, too.

“I was. But I held onto hope that, eventually, things would change between us. Or, well, I held onto that hope until . . . well, until this morning. And then I assumed that you must have run away because you were ashamed of me. Of us. I thought that maybe you found our intimacy . . . wrong.”

Edwin frowned. “I hadn’t even considered that.”

“It’s fine. I mean, I know now that you weren’t actually feeling that way. But at the time, it reminded me of what happened to lead me to Albany.”

Sorrow settled heavy in Andrew’s chest, and he looked away. Edwin grabbed his hand and kissed it. Somehow, a bit of the heaviness lifted, and Andrew found it in himself to continue.

“So, when we were on the train to New York City, I mentioned that I’d lost my family, right? At least, I explained that I was essentially exiled from my home because of my . . . inclinations. But I never told you how my family found out about them.” Andrew sucked in a long breath as he mustered the will to keep going. “I, uhm, I had a friend. His name was Theodore. He and I were very close. We had been friends ever since we were little, much like you and William. One night, after I’d had too much wine, I confessed my secret. I told Theodore that I liked men. And he . . . Oh, Edwin, he was so repulsed by me. At first, I think he was in shock. I regretted telling him about that part of myself immediately, but I still hoped, for those long and painful few seconds while we sat in silence as he digested the information, that he’d come to accept it. That he’d come to accept me. Even after he left my home so abruptly, I thought he’d come around someday. But he proceeded to tell my mother, whose reaction was . . . well, basically the exact opposite of the reaction that your mother had.”

“Jesus,” Edwin said through an exhale. “How horrible.”

Andrew shrugged halfheartedly. “Anyway, when you left this morning, the fear or—or maybe even shame I saw in your eyes . . . and the—the absolute urgency I heard in your voice as you left, it reminded me of him. Of Theodore. And so, I assumed that you either wouldn’t come back at all or that you would come back, but only to tell Prudence about me. Or . . . maybe even to tell others in our neighborhood about me. Honestly, I thought you might try to ruin my business.”

Guilt twisted in Andrew’s stomach, and he scrunched up his face as he shut his eyes. “I know how horrible that probably sounds. It wasn’t that I thought you were a bad person, Edwin, but . . . well . . . I couldn’t shake the fear, all the same. At least, not completely.”

“Oh, Andrew.”

Tears welled in Andrew’s eyes. He kept them shut as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“I thought that maybe my . . . my clumsiness—my social clumsiness, specifically and especially—had only exacerbated your fears about us being together. And even your potential sense of shame about it. I really thought you might have begun to resent me for liking you and even for your liking me in return.”

“Oh, my Andrew,” Edwin said, cupping Andrew’s cheek. “No, of course not. I’ve never felt ashamed of either us or of you. I like you exactly as you are. Clumsiness included. And it . . . oh, God, it pains me that you were worried I might try to hurt you by exposing your secret to others. I hate that you even had that fear at all, even a little. I’m so sorry, Andrew. So, so sorry.”

Andrew wanted to reiterate that Edwin needn’t be sorry, but then Edwin’s lips found his, cutting him off before the first word even made it out of his mouth. Edwin began peppering little kisses over every inch of his face, and the little blips of affection were interspersed with the words “I’m sorry,” murmured over and over again. Andrew’s breath continued to shake on each exhale. One tear fell. And then another. And then many, many more.

Edwin wrapped his arms around Andrew, pulling him close. Blanketed by Edwin’s care, Andrew let himself fall apart in his lover’s embrace. He cried into the crook of Edwin’s neck, releasing the pain he felt from this horrible wound that never seemed to heal. Only this time, Andrew felt as though he wasn’t crying for naught. Instead, Edwin’s gentle touch was like a salve, soothing the sting that Andrew still felt from his past as well as his continued self-hatred over his clumsiness. And then, for the first time since everything had happened, Andrew had the fleeting thought that maybe he could recover from this hurt, even if not fully, even if not flawlessly, even if not for forever.

Minutes passed. And with each one, Andrew felt his hurt receding, the persistent pain in his heart slowly lessening to a faint ache. Once he felt as though he’d run out of tears, he sniffled and pulled back to look into Edwin’s eyes, knowing that his own were red-rimmed and puffy.

“Thank you,” he said, “for holding me.”

“Always,” Edwin whispered.

Affection swelled in Andrew’s chest.