Thomas chewed at the inside of his cheek, torn between wanting to respect the separation Ben was trying to give him—trying to give them both—and wanting to speak the truth between them. In the end, the latter won out, and he sat up, crossing his legs and taking one of Ben’s hands between both of his.
“You are here with me now,” he said, dragging his lips across the smooth bumps of Ben’s knuckles. “We’re together here and it’s the same as there.”
“Is it?” Ben tucked his free arm behind him, pillowing himself on his hand.
“Not entirely, but I want it to be.”
“What does that mean to you?” Ben asked.
“I don’t have friends like you do, but I have my kids.” He cleared his throat, doing his best to swallow back any trepidation. “When we get home, I’d like you to meet them. Or at least Kenzie.”
Ben’s fingers flexed in his and the corner of one of his eyes twitched. “If that’s what you want.”
“Is it not what you want?”
“I want to be with you,” Ben answered quickly. “I don’t know what that means for us or what it looks like. If it looks like meeting your kids, then that’s what I want.”
Thomas exhaled, turning his attention down to their joined hands. His skin looked old and battered compared to the smooth tan of Ben’s and he tried to put the difference in their ages out of his mind.
“I want you to meet them,” he said after collecting his thoughts. “But I worry…”
“That they’ll hate me?”
“Impossible. But that’s not where I was going. I worry that the things you say you want aren’t really what you want.”
Ben chortled, rolling his eyes and pushing himself to sit. Their knees pressed together and Ben grabbed his face, jerking him until they made eye contact.
“I’ve been worried about the same thing,” Ben admitted, cheeks turning pink. “I’ve been concerned that because you’re new to this, because I’m your first, that you don’t really know yourself or know what you want. I’ve been trying to convince myself that because you’ve been with a woman your whole life, because you’re barely divorced, that you don’t know who you are or what you want.”
“I promise you I do,” he interrupted, but Ben pursed his lips, half a smile, and shook his head.
“Iknow,” Ben said. “I know. I didn’t at first and my head ran away with me a little bit, but I thought about it and now I think that you actually know yourself better than I know myself, which is honestly a bit terrifying.”
“I’m older,” he said automatically. “I’ve had more time.”
“It’s not that, though.”
“No, I don’t imagine it is.”
“I lo…I really like you. I care about you,” Ben said. The change in direction of his words wasn’t lost on either of them, and Thomas studied Ben’s face to catch any sign of backtracking on the sentiment. Part of him hoped that Ben would, especially in light of his admission about feeling more uncertain than Thomas did, but he was met with silence.
The rebuff burned in his chest and Thomas’s first instinct was to take his hands away, to look anywhere but in the depths of Ben’s eyes, but something Ben was said stuck in his mind like a thorn.
I think you actually know yourself better than I know myself.
It was such a small statement, made on a rush of breath, but Thomas saw the truth in it. The worry and the fear radiated off of Ben in waves the longer they sat together on the bed, and Thomas understood the enormity of Ben’s confession at the same time he understood the far reaches of his feelings. Ben wasn’t wrong that Thomas was sure of himself, maybe more than he let on.
Thomas had lived his entire life for other people. He’d spent years silently and patiently cataloguing the things he’d given up for other people. From the decor choices, to the vacations, to the sex, to the lack of love and respect in his marriage. He’d spent decades forsaking anything that would bring himself happiness for the sake of others, and what had it gotten him? His silence had brought him nothing besides unhappiness and regret. Thomas was tired of living a life made of other people’s demands and his would-have-beens. He wasn’t going to let anything else pass him by.
“I love you.”
“What?” Ben blinked so slowly that Thomas forgot to breathe.
“I don’t know if I know myself as well as you think, but I do know that I’m in love with you.”
“Thomas.”
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he said, even thought it was a little bit of a lie.
