“Do that. There’s tons of room.”
“I just might. And then when we come home, we’ll all get together. Even Wolfie. If I have to go to his office and drag him by the collar, I will.”
“That would be a sight I’d pay to see. Spence, let me know if you’re coming. Ello, I’ll talk to you soon.”
But his friends, always perceptive, weren’t ready to sign off.
“You sure everything is all right?” Elliot insisted. “You seem too quiet for such huge news.”
“I agree. You’re not telling us something.”
Damn. He must be slipping.
“I’m totally fine. Just too much sun and fun, I guess. Love you both. Talk soon.”
This time he didn’t wait for a response and clicked out of the chat. Curious to see where André had gone to, he crossed the kitchen and walked out onto the deck. Neither man’s laptop was on the table, and a quick scan of the grounds proved fruitless.
Huh. Maybe they went inside.He was about to settle himself in the chaise to catch some sun, when his eye caught the reflection of light against the pool-house windows, and he figured he’d check inside. André had never said the pool house was off-limits, and he couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay any longer.
Why the hell doesn’t André ever want to come in here? It’s beautiful.He stood in the large living-room area, decorated aptly in soothing tones of aqua, lemon, and linen. The tile floors cooled his feet, and the entire space felt cozy yet at the same time airy. A peek in the bedroom confused him even more, as a queen-sized bed filled the room. This was an apartment, not a single room with only a sofa as André had led him to believe.
Maybe Margery redecorated since he’d last been here.
He took a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and deciding to hang out in the cool, air-conditioned place, pulled out a book marked “photos.” He loved looking at old pictures of André and his family, maybe because he had nothing of his own left.
He turned the pages, smiling at the silly antics of André and his siblings playing in the pool, riding their bikes, and having snowball fights. Year after year, it seemed the family spent most of their time together in the Hamptons, and once again he couldn’t help wondering why André shunned the place, when it was obvious how much enjoyment it brought him.
A good-looking young man joined the family pictures around the time André was in high school, and Chess recognized André’s best friend, Dawson, who’d died so young and needlessly in a car crash. He hated seeing these pictures: Dawson’s death still hurt André, and it was painful even for Chess, who’d never met Dawson, to look into his smiling face with the knowledge that he only had several years left to live.
He sipped his water and turned the page—and his stomach turned. There was André, Dawson, and a blond man Chess immediately recognized as Kyle. The intimate way he held André around the waist nauseated him, but Chess had to reason with himself. André had already said they’d had a little fling and it hadn’t meant anything.
But the further he delved into the pictures, the more he realized that simply wasn’t true.
A group of pictures in a side pocket of the album slipped out, and Chess spread them out on the sofa cushion. There were pictures of Dawson with a young woman, presumably his girlfriend, their arms around each other, kissing and hugging. Chess had little interest in those. It was the pictures of André kissing Kyle, eyes closed, hands cupping the sides of Kyle’s face, that made him want to throw up. The sensuality and passion fairly leaped off the page.
Chess knew that look. It was one of lust and desire.
Another picture showed Kyle groping André, his hand down the back of his bathing suit, and Chess sifted through more pictures of them cuddling and kissing in the pool or on the ski slopes, not only over one year but several, going by the time stamps. That indicated a relationship, not a fling. There were pictures in this very pool house, and Chess picked up one of André sleeping in the bedroom. He was naked, the sheet pooled at his waist, and Chess’s heart pounded, knowing that the man André was with now had made love to him in this very place.
That’s not a fling. André looks totally into Kyle. Why would he lie to me?He tossed the pictures aside, and the photo album fell to the floor. He picked it up and shoved the extra pictures inside the flap, then left the pool house, slamming the door behind him. With no direction, he blindly walked down to the ocean, and after kicking off his flip-flops, waded in. The shock of the cool water hitting his feet did nothing to erase the memory of those photos.
He began to walk and reason with himself. Why was he so angry? Chess knew André had lived a wild life before Dawson’s death, and maybe he wanted to forget about that time or not upset Chess by allowing him to think Kyle was important. Sometimes the past was best left undisturbed. God only knew, he could understand that.
Abandoning the water, Chess plopped onto the sand and rested his chin on his knees. Should he talk to André about it? What purpose would it serve? If his own past ever came to the surface, Chess had no idea what he’d do. Probably run away and disappear.
He was living in his own glass house, afraid to step outside the lines for fear it would crack and shatter into a million pieces. Best to keep his discovery a secret and make sure to love André so hard, he’d never think of those days again.
Invigorated by his decision, he jumped up and trudged through the sand, stopping to pick up his flip-flops where he’d left them at the shoreline half a mile away. By the time he made it to the deck, André and Kyle had reappeared, and André gifted him with a smile that made the sun’s rays light up the sky even brighter.
“I was looking for you, love.”
Chess rubbed a sandy foot down his leg. “I took a walk to the water.” Perhaps it was childish, but after finding those pictures—and knowing Kyle was watching them—Chess settled his mouth over André’s, his lips and taste as familiar and comforting as a welcome-home hug. Even after all these years, André could render him weak and make his heart race with a simple touch.
André slipped a hand around his nape and held him in place. “Mmm, this is nice.” Their kiss grew hot and hungry, tongues warring, mouths clinging. “I’m ready for a break now.”
Chess reached for his hand and tugged him to standing. “Let’s go, then.” Without a word to Kyle, he and André entered the house and headed for their bedroom. They lay on the bed, holding each other so close, the smell of André and his taste seeped into his blood and bones.
“You’re as much a part of me as my own skin. I love you so much.” Chess rested his head on André’s chest, hearing the strong thump of his beautiful heart.
