Page 25 of The New Place

Ned will give him shit about his desperation, but later. Right now he doesn’t feel all that different, tugging Abbot toward the door and hurrying Baxter along too, as happy to leave Pat to his privacy as he is to finally—finally—get some of his own.

7

ABBOT

A step inside the front door, Abbot backs Ned up against the coat rack and kisses him. Ned ought to be in Boston, but he’s right here, his cheekbone bumping Abbot’s glasses askew.

That, at least, wasn’t part of the past month’s daydreams, and it anchors him as he rights the frames. “You’re here,” he says, shoving his fingers beneath Ned’s jacket, warming his hands on the skin of his neck beneath his shirt collar. “When you came into the conference room⁠—”

“Yeah, well, this whole plan went a lot more smoothly in my head,” Ned says, working on the buttons of Abbot’s coat. “And we got here a hell of a lot sooner.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“I am. Pat is the worst.” Ned unzips his own coat, then stills as he takes it off. “What is this, anyway?” He holds out the envelope he’d tucked in his pocket, his thumb dangerously close to lifting the unsealed flap.

“Nothing.” Abbot plucks it away and sets it on the small table that holds his mail, empty now since he didn’t stop and retrieve it. It had seemed an unnecessary delay just moments ago. Now he sees how neatly flyers and bills would hide the stark white envelope.

Don’t ask, he silently pleads. Surely Ned doesn’t want to wait any longer, not now. He can’t really care what’s in that envelope, not enough to delay getting upstairs. “I have a bone⁠—”

“—Yeah you do⁠—”

“—But it’s not thawed,” Abbot says quickly. “Come get it? I’ll do Baxter’s water.”

He fills Baxter’s bowl and the dog dives for it, clearly thirsty. When Ned opens the freezer door, Baxter trots over, his entire body wriggling as he waits for the beef bone.

“Don’t eat that on the couch,” Ned calls to the dog as he rinses his hands. “On your bed, okay?”

Abbot hands him a towel and leans in to kiss him. Ned dries his hands, then laughs into their kiss as he fumbles to set the towel on the counter. Abbot lets himself be pressed back, hands tight on Ned’s waist, and Ned cups his cheeks, fingers cold from outside, and his mouth so very warm.

When they part, Ned holds his upper arms and presses their foreheads together. “That was a marathon getting back here.”

“Come upstairs,” Abbot whispers.

“You don’t want to hang up the towel?” Ned teases.

“I don’t want to wait.”

“Pat owes us one,” Ned says. “And Chris. The guy can talk, can’t he?”

“You’re talking,” Abbot says.

“I’m trying to…” Ned’s hands slide down to Abbot’s ass. “Savor…” A firm squeeze. “The moment.”

Abbot snakes his arms around Ned’s shoulders. “Let’s reschedule the savoring for later.”

“I’ll add it to the agenda,” Ned says. “I want to hear about the guy in college, too.”

Abbot presses into his body. He needs that envelope and the discussion both to fall from Ned’s mind, and take Beverly with them. “I’m entirely certain that’s not why you drove up here tonight.”

“Isn’t it?” Ned asks, nuzzling Abbot’s neck.

“We can talk on the phone.”

They have talked on the phone. And texted and spent hours on video calls and Abbot has filled his days with Ned as much as he could this past month, but it’s nothing compared to being together, sharing the same space, breathing the same air.

“And you never once mentioned him,” Ned says.

Abbot shuts him up with a kiss. Of course he didn’t, when he could talk about anything else. He’s satisfied for Ned to know nothing about that time. Reto was a long-ago infatuation, memories of him steeped in those years in Zürich. An embarrassment, really, his entire focus caught up on that man, vying for his attention yet barely making an impression.