Jim would later remember that during the scandal, his dad never called. Steven called once, to make sure Jim was okay. Sally had come to the loft, bringing Jim’s favorite oatmeal pecan cookies, and stayed to visit with Naomi. But during the heights of the press coverage and the weeks following, William Ellison was conspicuously absent.
***
The phone call came in the early morning hours, as does most gut wrenching news.
“Jim?” Steven sounded unsure, scared.
“What is it?” Jim asked, instantly awake, his feet already on the floor, hand reaching for his wristwatch.
“It’s...it’s Dad,” Steven sighed raggedly.
“What happened?” Jim reached for his pants.
“Jim, oh god, Jim, he’s dead.”
After ascertaining Steven’s whereabouts, Jim finished dressing and rushed down the stairs. Blair was slipping his jacket on, and was holding Jim’s in his hand; he had heard the phone and the ensuing commotion. Blair had thought it was a call from the station and started dressing about ten seconds after he heard Jim walking around above him.
Taking the jacket from Blair, Jim kept his eyes down.
“It’s my dad, Chief.”
Blair didn’t say anything, just rested his hand on Jim’s arm for a second, and then they were out the door.
***
Steven was sitting in a hard plastic chair, Sally by his side, when Jim and Blair arrived in the emergency room waiting area.
“What happened?” Jim asked as Sally propelled herself into his arms.
“Oh, Jimmy,” she said into his chest, tears wetting the thick fabric of his sweater.
“Steven?”
Standing, Steven ran a shaky hand through his hair. “A heart attack.”
Gently detaching himself from Sally, Jim asked, “What happened?”
Sally wiped her nose with a damp hanky and said, “I went to bed at 10:00, as always. Mr. William was watching the news with a glass of whiskey and a cigar as usual. I heard him go upstairs at 10:30. The Tonight Show had just started.” A shudder ran through the tiny woman and Jim eased her down to the chair.
“Then what happened?”
“Well,” Sally started, “I heard something, a crash. I thought maybe Mr. William had knocked something over. So, I went upstairs...and...he was....” Sally dissolved into tears, unable to finish.
Turning back to Steven, Jim asked, “Sally called 911 and then you?”
Steven nodded.
“And?”
Sighing raggedly, Steven answered, “I got there just as the ambulance was driving off. I followed it in.” Steven looked off past Jim’s shoulder, looking a little like the lonely lost boy of their childhood.
“What did the doctor say?” When Steven didn’t respond, Jim grabbed his shoulder. “Steven, the doctor, what did he say?”
Steven blinked owlishly. “He’s dead, Jim. Dad is dead.”
Nodding, Jim urged Steven to sit beside Sally and then strode purposefully to the admitting desk.
“I need to talk to the doctor who treated William Ellison.” He watched the young clerk glance his way before sighing and typing some information into the computer.
“Ellis?”
“Ellison.” Jim felt Blair’s hand on his back and took a deep breath.
“Dr. Clauson,” the clerk informed him. “She’s with another patient, but I’ll tell her you’re waiting. You are?”
“Detective Jim Ellison.”
She raised her pierced eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Jim nodded to her and went to sit with Sally and Steven.
Countless minutes later, the doctor came to find them and introduce herself.
“I’m Doctor Clauson,” she held out her hand to Jim as he stood.
“Jim Ellison.” They shook hands. “My brother, Steven.”
“Gentlemen.” The doctor nodded at Sally. “Sit, please.” She waited until they sat down before answering their unspoken questions.
“Your father was brought in in full arrest. The paramedics worked on him on the way in, and we continued their efforts, but it wasn’t enough. I’m very sorry.”
Jim asked softly, “He had a heart attack?”
“Without an autopsy, I can’t be positive,” she said, shaking her head, “but I believe so.”
The doctor stood and Jim reflexively stood also.
“Thank you,” Jim said stiffly.
He watched her walk away, his mind reeling in a thousand different directions. Steven stood, reaching out to touch Jim, but he stepped away and turned to face his brother.
“I’m gonna go see when they’ll release the body and then call the funeral home.” Jim retreated before hearing a reply.
“Jim...” Steven said, but the soft cry was lost in the busy room.
***
Sitting silently in the truck, Jim followed Steven’s Mercedes to their father’s house. The first rays of sunlight were ghosting across the roofs of the houses, lending a surreal aura to the morning. Blair kept an eye on Jim and one on the road. He had offered to drive but Jim hadn’t relinquished the truck keys, and Blair knew enough not to push the situation and his luck.
Letting Steven pull into the driveway, Jim parked on the street and watched his brother and Sally get out of the car before climbing out of his truck. He was aware of Blair, a silent, supporting presence at his side.
Jim watched Steven unlock the front door, aware that he himself did not have a key to his father’s house. The grandfather clock in the hallway sounded its monotonous tempo as they all slipped off their coats and Sally hung them up. She mentioned breakfast and then slipped off into the kitchen.
Stepping to the study door, Jim peered into his father’s favorite room. The dark paneling, the pristine crystal decanters, the neat rows of books lining shelf after shelf were all achingly familiar. The room was heavy with stale cigar smoke; it smelled like his father.
Turning, Jim ignored Steven’s gaze and headed up the stairs. He heard twin treads on the steps behind him, but didn’t acknowledge their presence. Moving purposefully to his father’s room, Jim went straight to the closet. Flipping the light on, Jim stared at the numerous suits hanging from the rods in the walk-in closet. Jim owned five good suits himself, and he knew Blair only owned two; his father’s closet was full of suits—black, charcoal, navy, chocolate, all from the best clothiers around the world.
Sensing Steven and Blair behind him, Jim stepped forward and grabbed a formal black Brooks Brothers three piece. He pulled out a white heavily starched button down shirt and then surveyed the ties, finally settling on a sedate maroon striped one.
Turning from the closet, Jim stepped past his audience, stopping only when Steven said, “What about shoes? Underwear, socks?”
“He doesn’t need them, Steven,” Jim said impatiently.
“Yes, Jim, he does. Dad does need them.” His brother’s voice was high pitched and angry.
Blair watched Steven storm over to the bureau, pull open several drawers, and grab a handful of white cotton and black socks, before slamming the drawers shut. Steven pushed past Blair and grabbed a shoe box off the top shelf and then moved out the bedroom door, leaving Jim to follow him downstairs. Blair took a moment to grab a suit bag before following them.
They added their possessions to the bag Blair set on the dining room table, then Jim disappeared upstairs, returning with a small jewelry box. He showed Steven the cuff links and college ring, and with a nod, the box was added to the bag. Blair zipped the bag closed and the three men stood in silence, not knowing quite what to say. It was a blessing when Sally broke the silence by calling them in for breakfast.
Sitting around the table, they ate the lovingly prepared meal, tasting very little. Blair tried to make small talk, but even Sally was subdued. Finally, Jim pushed his unfinished meal aside and went back to the study. Steven looked as if he’d like to follow, but then turned and went upstairs. Blair urged Sally to go lay down, and cleaned up the kitchen, needing something to keep himself occupied.
***
Sitting alone at the table, a forgotten cup of coffee in front of him, Blair started a bit when Jim walked in.
Jim poured himself a cup of coffee from the warmer and sat next to Blair.
“I called Simon,” he told Blair. “And the funeral home again.”
Blair nodded, thinking he needed to call Naomi.
“The funeral director is coming by after lunch.”
Looking at his friend, Blair saw the weariness creeping into his eyes.
“Why don’t you go lie down, Jim?” Blair suggested. “I’ll wake you when he gets here.”
Draining the last of his coffee, Jim shook his head. “Can’t. I need to go into the station, clear up some paperwork.”
“Work?” Steven said from the doorway. “How can you work now?”
Ignoring the tone of Steven’s voice, Jim looked at Blair and asked, “Do you want a ride home or are you staying?”
“Home, please.” Blair stood up and carried his coffee cup to the sink.
“Aren’t you going to answer me, Jim?” Steven said, his voice rising.
“No,” Jim said simply. “Mr. Mullens from the funeral home is coming by after lunch to finalize funeral plans.”
“You couldn’t consult me on any of that? You just assume I will be here to meet with the man, but that I’ll let you make all the arrangements?” Steven was on the edge of hysteria.
Taking a deep breath, Jim let it all out before he answered. “Dad has everything planned, Steven, we’re just being informed about what he wanted. Like always.”
Without waiting for a reply, Jim turned and left with Blair following closely.
“Don’t you think you were kinda rough on him?” Blair asked as he climbed into the truck.
The glare was answer enough.
***
They were back at the house three hours later, sitting around the dining room table with Steven and Mr. Mullens, discussing William Ellison’s final requests.
“Your father came to us about five years ago and made his final arrangements.” Mr. Mullens pulled out a thin folder and opened it, settling his reading glasses on the tip of his nose. “At that time, he chose a casket and stated his preference to be buried on a Saturday.”
Probably so it wouldn’t interfere with business, Jim thought caustically.
“Mr. Ellison wanted his casket open for the viewing, which he requested for Thursday and Friday nights, and then closed, thereafter.”
“He planned all this himself?” Blair asked, surprised at the detail.
“Oh yes, when he came to me, I thought we’d have to explain every detail, but he knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it done.”
“Sounds like Dad,” Steven said with a small smile.
“What else?” Jim asked stiffly.
“Oh, well, there’s a list of hymns he selected, as well as a favorite Bible passage to be read. He also requested that both of his sons speak at his funeral.”
“He wants us to what?” Jim asked, his voice rising.
“Your father specifically requested that you and Steven say a few words at the funeral. Not a eulogy, mind you, just a few words,” Mr. Mullens carefully explained.
“No, I won’t do it,” Jim said, shaking his head.
“Jim—”
“No, Steven, he’s still trying to pull our strings. I won’t do it.”
“It was his final request, Mr. Ellison. It seemed very important to him,” Mr. Mullens said gently.
Jim’s jaw clenched shut and he shook his head.
“No,” Jim was adamant.
“Jim...” Blair started.
“I don’t want to discuss it any more,” Jim said, then turned and walked out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Blair said to Mr. Mullens and Steven, and then left to find Jim.
***
Jim was in the back yard, his hands deep in his pockets, looking off into the distance.
“You okay?” Blair asked softly.
Jim nodded imperceptibly.
Blair stood beside Jim in the warm afternoon sunlight, letting the heat warm him, needing to be near, so he could offer comfort if Jim reached out.
“You think I should do what he wants, don’t you?” Jim’s voice was cold.
Shrugging, Blair said, “I don’t know.”
Jim glanced over at Blair’s thoughtful expression.
“I mean, it’s not like the two of you were that close.”
“No.”
“And it’s bad enough having to say something nice about someone you liked at a funeral, but to have to say something nice about someone you hated, jeez,” Blair shook his head, “that’d be near impossible.”
“I never said I hated him, Sandburg.”
“Maybe not, but from everything you’ve told me, he was a crappy father, Jim.”
Jim was silent.
“Sometimes I think I’m luckier for never knowing my father. Never had to worry that I was disappointing him or anything.”
“You wouldn’t have been a disappointment, Chief,” Jim said with a smile.
Blair sighed deeply and said, “Maybe. Who knows?” Blair shrugged. “I’m gonna head back in and see if Sally has any more cookies. You want some?”
“No,” Jim said, watching Blair’s departure and wondering about the luck of the draw with parents.
***
Returning home from the funeral home on Friday night, Blair kept an eye on Jim. Blair had noticed the silence, and while that in itself was not unusual, the circumstances certainly were. Playing intermediary between Jim and Steven, Blair was feeling pretty worn down himself.
“Want something to eat?” Blair asked, leaning into the fridge.
“Gonna take a shower,” Jim answered draping his suit coat over a chair and untying his tie on the way into the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Jim emerged, towel wrapped around his hips. Blair was sitting at the table eating and reading the sports section.
Jim peered into the pot on the stove.
“Beans and franks? You?” Jim laughed and grabbed a bowl.
“Hey, they’re meatless franks and vegetarian beans.”
“Then why bother?” Jim asked grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting down at the table.
Blair glanced at Jim’s bowl and cocked his eyebrow just so. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Jim grabbed the comics and took a bite of his dinner.
***
“Who was that?” Blair asked as Jim forcefully set the phone back in the cradle.
“Steven.”
Jim stalked to the balcony doors and threw them open, letting the cool spring air fill the warm loft. Standing in the semi-darkness, Jim tried to take deep breaths and relax, but his brother’s words still slithered through his mind.
Are you really not gonna fulfill Dad’s last request? God, Jim, it’s the last thing you’ll ever have to do for him. Can’t you quit acting like a spoiled brat for a few minutes and say a few goddamn words?
Wiping his hands on a dishrag, Blair studied Jim’s back before he approached.
“He still pressuring you to speak.”
“Yeah.”
Moving to stand beside Jim in the doorway, Blair asked softly, “Can you tell me why you don’t want do it?”
Sighing, Jim shrugged and said, “I don’t have anything to say. I didn’t really know him.”
“But he was your dad.”
“Yeah.”
Shaking his head, Blair said, “Man, he must have really been a bastard to you.”
“Why do you say that?” Jim turned to look at Blair’s profile.
“Just the fact that you can’t even come up with a few nice words to say about him now that he’s dead.”
Jim stepped out on to the balcony, arms across his chest.
“It wasn’t all peaches and roses growing up, Chief. Why should I pretend it was?”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Then...”
Stepping closer, Blair rested his hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Whatever he was, whatever he did...it’s over. He’s gone Jim, and holding on to all the shit from the past only fucks you up; it doesn’t affect him at all anymore.”
Blair watched the muscles in Jim’s jaw clench.
Turning away, Blair said softly, “I’m going to bed. What time do we have to be there in the morning?”
“Ten.”
“I’ll be ready to leave by nine,” Blair said over his shoulder. “Night, Jim.”
***
Having tossed and turned most of the night, Jim finally gave up any pretense of getting any rest and was up, showered and dressed by six. He watched the sun rise from the balcony, sipping coffee and thinking about life.
He heard Blair’s alarm click on and the familiar rustling as Blair pulled the covers over his head with one hand and slapped the snooze button with the other. Most mornings the snooze button was brutalized several times before Blair finally gave up and got out of bed, so Jim was surprised when he heard Blair roll out of bed on the second buzz. But then, he wasn’t really surprised at all. When things were important, Blair was always at his side, ready to charge into the fray.
Blair shuffled into the bathroom with barely a glance around; he knew Jim was up already, having heard the shower running and smelled the coffee brewing, but he hadn’t gotten up earlier, instinctively knowing Jim needed to be alone with his thoughts.
Shaving and showering quickly, Blair stepped out of the bathroom and saw Jim buttering toast at the counter. He picked up the steaming mug of coffee Jim had prepared and set on the edge of the counter nearest him.
“Toast?” Jim asked.
“Sure,” Blair said, taking a sip of coffee. “We have any of that mango jam left?”
“Should be in the fridge,” Jim answered, sliding two pieces of bread into the toaster.
Blair opened the fridge door, fingering through the various bottles and jars in the door before lighting upon the right one. He set it on the counter and then turned to his room to start getting dressed.
Jim waited for Blair’s bread to toast, munching on his, and then lightly buttered the ready toast just the way he had done numerous times in the past. If he thought about how domestic they were, the thought didn’t bother him or linger. Familiar, they were familiar with each other and the quirks they each possessed, that was all. Familiar, like a family.
“Jim?” Blair called, seeing Jim’s still figure.
Jerking his head out of the clouds, Jim turned around and handed Blair the plate with his toast.
Taking the plate, Blair tried to catch Jim’s eyes, “Thanks.”
Jim smiled distractedly and reached for his coffee cup.
Slathering his toast with the mango jam, Blair watched Jim out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t drop that on your shirt,” Jim warned when the Blair lifted the heavily laden toast.
Blair tried to glare in response, but couldn’t catch Jim’s eyes so the look was lost.
He finished his toast quickly and then returned to his room to finish dressing. When he came out, Jim was standing by the door, keys in hand, looking very somber in his dark gray suit. Without another word, Blair opened the door and preceded Jim out the door and into the beginnings of a very long day.
***
The funeral began exactly at ten, as William Ellison had requested. Jim and Steven sat in the front row, Sally between them. Two rows back, Blair sat with Simon and Megan, eyes locked on the back of Jim’s head, watching for any hint of trouble. He knew that Joel, Henry and Rafe were sitting a few rows behind him, and he hoped the thought of his friend’s support would be a comfort to Jim.
As the solemn cleric droned on about the William Ellison he’d ministered, Blair’s thoughts drifted, and he wondered how it would feel to lose his only parent, to be orphaned in a sense even though he was an adult. His eyes stung, and he blinked to clear them. Taking a deep breath, Blair tried to refocus his thoughts. He felt Simon glance at him, but he didn’t acknowledge the look.
Blair watched Steven rise and step up to the pulpit. Steven spoke about William Ellison the business man, the entrepreneur, the philanthropist, but never the man who had raised him. Blair again wondered what kind of man would make so many mistakes that his two sons had nothing loving to say of him at his funeral. Steven finished his oration, and Blair had the distinct feeling it had been delivered by a man who was more similar to his father than he realized.
There was a long silent pause as the cleric and the funeral director waited to see if Jim would stand and fulfill his father’s wishes. Blair held his breath, having no idea what Jim would do.
Jim stood up and looked down, wondering about his traitorous legs. He hadn’t intended to stand, or to speak, but his body was betraying him. Slowly, he walked to his father’s closed coffin and laid a hand on the cold metal. Unconsciously, he made the decision that at his death, he would not be locked away in a tube of metal, but set free, released, cremated and his ashes scattered into the oceanic winds.
Looking at his hand on the metal, Jim began to speak.
“My dad wasn’t the kind of man who showed his feelings very often. It was hard sometimes to know where we stood with him. It wasn’t easy growing up like that.”
Jim paused and the silence grew uncomfortable.
“Once, when I was about eight or nine, Stevie and I built a fort in the living room, with sheets and pillows. We knew we weren’t supposed to be playing in there, but we did it anyway.
“Well, Dad came in and yelled at us and we both just stopped moving. We didn’t know what he was gonna do. And then he came over and crawled into our fort. We crawled inside after him and he grabbed me and started tickling me, and when I rolled away, he grabbed Stevie.
“We...we played like that for a long time, it seemed like all night. Sally brought us hot dogs and Dad let us eat them right in the middle of the living room floor in our fort.
“That night when my dad tucked me into bed, he told me that he loved me.” Jim sighed. “That was a good day.”
Silently, Jim returned to his seat beside Sally. Blair saw her take his hand and he wished he were the one comforting Jim at that moment.
The cleric closed the service, informing them of the interment following at Cascade Gardens cemetery.
Steven, Sally and Jim stood and proceeded out of the church. Blair followed quickly, catching up to Jim on the church steps.
One look at Jim’s pale, sweaty face, and Blair knew his friend wasn’t okay. Grabbing Jim by the elbow, Blair hustled them off, pushing Jim towards a bathroom. He locked the door behind in and turned to look at Jim.
Jim had felt the shakes start when he was half way down the aisle. Now, they had turned into full blown trembling, and no matter what Jim did, he couldn’t stop them.
“Chief...”
Instinctively, Blair pulled Jim into his arms, crooning softly, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Jim hugged Blair like a lifeline, desperate not to drown in the torrent of emotion washing over him.
“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” Blair continued his litany, rubbing soothing circles on Jim’s back.
Pulling back, Jim looked into Blair’s eyes, and then leaned down and kissed him. Jim’s tongue slipped between Blair’s parted lips. Blair gasped, but Jim plunged onward, having needed this forever, damning the consequences. He felt Blair stiffen but then relax, and then Blair’s tongue joined in the maddening game, stealing inside Jim’s mouth.
They broke apart, foreheads pressed together.
“Aw, Jim,” Blair said breathlessly.
“No, don’t.”
“Jim...”
“It’s not...it’s not that,” Jim said, forcing Blair to meet his eyes. “I love you. I want you to know that. I need you to know that. Do you know that?”
“I...yes, I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Smiling, Jim kissed Blair’s lips softly.
“We have to go. They’re waiting for us,” Blair said, remind Jim.
Nodding, Jim turned to go, but Blair stopped him, fixing his tie. Jim ran a hand across Blair’s hair, smoothing it where he must have mussed it while they kissed.
When they got outside, Blair turned to go to Simon’s car, but Jim grabbed his hand.
“Come with me,” Jim requested.
Unable to say no, Blair waved to Simon and then climbed into the back of the limo with Jim, Sally and Steven.
***
At the cemetery, Steven, Sally and Jim sat in the chairs in front of the coffin, and Blair took up position right behind Jim, a hand comfortingly resting against his back where few could see.
The pall bearers carried the heavy metal coffin in, setting it into place. The cleric said a few comforting words, reading scriptures. Jim felt set apart from this place, hearing but not experiencing the moment. It was very surreal.
Leaving the cemetery, they headed to the Ellison house. William Ellison had planned a gathering afterwards for close friends and family, Jim and Steven had included a few of their own into the mix as well.
Steven circulated around the room, talking with each person, even Jim’s friends, while Jim stood off in one corner, sipping a cup of coffee. Blair watched from a distance, nibbling on a sandwich and some fruit, listening to Megan and Joel talk.
As the crowd thinned out, Jim slipped outside. He was standing under an old maple tree when he heard Blair approach.
“You gonna try and tell me I didn’t mean what I said?” Jim asked without turning around.
“No.”
Jim turned then, eyebrow raised.
“Did you mean it?” Blair asked, looking slightly miffed.
“I should have told you sooner.”
“No,” Blair said, smiling, “I might not’ve been ready to hear it sooner.”
“But you’re ready now?” Jim asked, seriously.
“Yeah. Yes.”
Looking a little sheepish, Jim lowered his head. “I don’t know much about...this kind of love.”
“The permanent kind?”
Jim gasped softly, “Is that what this is?”
“For me, it is.”
“How can you be sure?”
Blair shrugged. “You make me sure.”
“I’ve never made anybody else sure.”
“You make me sure,” Blair said confidently.
The two men smiled each other, just beginning to understand the impact of their declarations.
“Jim?” Simon called from the back door.
Jim walked over to the door, Blair following.
“We’re gonna go,” Simon said, indicating Megan and Joel. Henry and Rafe had gone back to work after the funeral.
“Okay,” Jim said, shaking his boss’ hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course. See you day after tomorrow?”
Looking at Blair, Jim nodded. “We’ll be in at eight.”
“Fine.”
Jim watched Simon step back inside, shaking hands with Steven as they passed in the doorway. Steven stepped outside, looking at Jim.
“I’m gonna get some coffee,” Blair said, excusing himself.
The brothers stood in awkward silence. They hadn’t spent much time together since their reunion two years ago, and Jim took full responsibility for his part of their separation.
“Until you told the story, I didn’t remember that day,” Steven said. “I remember him yelling at me when I spilled soda on the living room floor. I remember him spanking you once, but I don’t know what for.”
Jim grimaced, remembering those times too.
“He wasn’t the best...” Steven started.
“But he was ours,” Jim finished.
“Yeah.”
They were silent then, comfortably silent for once.
“David Fisher wants us to come to his office tomorrow for the reading of the will,” Steven said softly.
“It’ll have to be tomorrow afternoon, Sandburg and I have some stuff to do in the morning.”
“That’s fine, I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
“You’re welcome, Jim.”
***
It was after dark when Jim and Blair got home. Blair set the plate of leftover sandwiches in the fridge and grabbed a beer.
“Want one?”
“Yeah.”
Jim loosened his tie before taking the proffered beer.
“Long day,” Blair said needlessly.
“Yeah.”
After taking a couple of swallows of his beer, Blair disappeared into his room to change clothes. Jim followed Blair’s example, tossing his suit in a pile to take to the dry cleaners, making a mental note to pick up Blair’s as well.
Coming downstairs, Jim saw Blair in the kitchen.
“You want anything?” Blair asked, hearing Jim.
“Nah, don’t think so.”
“You didn’t eat much today.”
Jim shrugged.
Blair made himself a salad, adding some of the turkey from the leftover sandwiches, tossing away the soggy bread. Adding tomatoes and shredded cheese, Blair topped it with a mild oil and vinegar dressing. He took the salad to the table, grabbed his half finished beer and sat down.
A few minutes later, Jim came over and sat down, looking at Blair’s salad.
“No fair, man,” Blair said, sliding his bowl toward Jim.
“What?” Jim said, taking the fork from Blair’s hand. “You didn’t have to offer.”
Shrugging, Blair smiled. “But I did.”
Spearing a tomato, Jim offered it to Blair. Opening his mouth, Blair accepted.
“Good dressing,” Jim said, taking another bite.
They finished the salad, alternating bites, sharing the gentle intimacy of the moment.
“Want more?” Blair asked.
“More salad? No.”
Smiling, Blair took the bowl from Jim and set it in the sink, letting water run into it for a few seconds. He leaned back against the counter, arms across his chest, waiting.
Jim glanced at him over his shoulder, then picked up his beer and finished it.
Standing, Jim walked over and tossed the empty bottle in the trash.
“I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Okay,” Blair said as Jim disappeared into the bathroom.
***
The loft was dimly lit when Jim emerged from his shower, the doors to Blair’s bedroom were closed. Turning off the counter light, Jim headed upstairs to where Blair was waiting for him.
“This side okay?” Blair asked.
Smiling, Jim answered, “Yeah.”
Slipping out of his sweats, Jim felt Blair’s eyes on his bare flesh. Any other night, all Jim would have been thinking was taking the next step with Blair, but tonight, he was simply worn out mentally. He wanted and welcomed Blair’s company, companionship, and love, but nothing more. Yet. And Blair seemed to understand that, lowering his eyes while Jim slipped on a pair of boxers.
Jim slid between the sheets, sighing comfortably. Blair rolled closer, their shoulders touching. Jim turned his head and their lips met in a soft kiss.
“Good night,” Jim said, knowing Blair would understand it wasn’t a rejection.
“Good night, Jim,” Blair responded.
They settled into comfortable positions, Blair’s head near Jim’s arm.
A gentle breeze tickled Jim’s bicep and soft words reached his ears.
“I love you, Jim. I just wanted you to know.”
Jim drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face. He would deal with tomorrow’s headaches tomorrow. Tonight, he was loved by Blair.
The End.
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Author’s Acknowledgements: Major thanks to Jan and Diana for the beta jobs. Any remaining mistakes are mine and I adore them. Special thanks to my support squad who reads along as I write and bug the royal shit outta me for more every single freaking day! Patt, Kel, Mary, Lily—y’all make it impossible to stop. (Innocently points finger of blame their way!) :)