Page 14 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

Peter laughed.

“That beet salad at The Lazy Duck was delicious, though.” He smacked his lips.

Frowning, I said, “It was a warm salad with lentils and—”

Peter’s grin grew and his eyes seemed to twinkle. I smacked myself in the forehead gently.

“You are…you are…”

“An asshole?” He shook his head playfully at me as he leaned into the table.

“No.” I smiled and looked down at the table. “You’re wonderful. Of course, I remember that night.”

Peter smiled warmly.

“But,” I said, “if I am supposed to choose some other meal, it would be a Christmas dinner with my family. Before…well…before.”

When I looked up, Peter was smiling sadly and staring into my eyes.

“Do you miss them?” he asked.

My shoulders rose and fell.

“Not as desperately as I once did,” I said. “My apartment doesn’t feel as lonely and hollow as it did before. But, yes. I think about them every day.”

“Are you doing okay in Montreal?” Peter asked. “I worry about you. Probably more than I should. You’re a capable, smart…handsome…guy. But I find I think about you at least a hundred times a day.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s he doing? Is he okay? Does he think of me?” Peter laid out his thoughts for me. “You’ve occupied a lot of my brain for two years, Enzo.”

“Have I?”

“You have.”

“Are your thoughts always simply about my well-being?” I asked.

Flirtation was my intention, but I had such little experience, I hoped that Peter would pick up on my meaning. When he grinned at me from across the table, I knew he understood.

“Of course not,” Peter said. “I’ve thought a lot of things about you since I last saw you.”

I bit at my bottom lip and looked down at the table. Surely, my cheeks were crimson. It wasn’t embarrassment at having Peter say such a thing, it was embarrassment at finding that I desperately wanted to know what those thoughts he’d had were, but unsure that I could listen to them without embarrassing myself further.

“Do you want to know what I think about most often?” Peter asked, his voice husky. “I can tell you if you want.”

I took a shuddering breath and forced myself to look up at him.

“I feel…I feel that another time would be better,” I said. “I don’t know if I could hear those things right now.”

Peter looked worried for a moment, but when he saw the grin playing along my lips, he smiled.

“Okay.”

For what seemed the longest time, we stared at each other across the table. Finally, Peter broke the silence, but his eyes continued to bore into mine.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked. “To bed?”

“Yes,” I said. “But I need a moment before we get up.”