“But you have a beautiful, soft heart and want to help someone in need. It’s one of the things I love about you. Let me see what openings we have.”
Chess slipped his arms around his neck. “You have a pretty beautiful heart as well. And I love you, in case you didn’t know.”
“I do, but it’s nice to hear.”
“I’ll never get tired of saying it.” Chess pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You’re not angry or upset that I told the guys as much as I did?”
“No.” He yawned. “I’m okay with it, now that you’ve explained. I’m really ready to go to sleep.” He rolled onto his side, and when Chess stretched out next to him, he closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him. The conversation with Wolf still played in his mind.
Who was this man Chess had met at the club, and where did he fit in the past Chess tried so hard to keep secret?
***
Later that evening, they gathered for drinks.
“I can’t believe we’re all together here. It’s been years.” André sat in the old leather club chair, his father’s seat, and a pang resonated through his heart, knowing he was gone forever.
Bianca raised her champagne glass. She looked gorgeous as ever, but even better, there was a sparkle in her eye he hadn’t ever seen. “To you and Chess. I’m so happy you’re finally getting married. I’ve been waiting for years for this to happen.”
Chess ran a finger up the stem of his glass. “Well, I was busy finishing my PhD and André was always so busy and away so often, but I’m happy André asked me.” Their eyes met, and he smiled.
“I had to make sure you’d say yes.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Henry asked. He’d been quieter than usual, but André attributed that to flying home and his late night at the club. Henry added, “I guess you were waiting for the perfect time and place.”
A laugh escaped André. “As if Main Street at a crowded lunchtime was something I’d planned.”
“Love isn’t something you can plan for, don’t you think?” Quentin’s eyes remained fixed firmly on Bianca, who blushed and cast her gaze to the floor. André saw their hands together, fingers laced tight. He kept his smiles to himself. He recognized a man in love and hoped Bianca reciprocated. It seemed his family had made a habit of love at first sight. There could be worse things.
“I agree.” They toasted, and André took a sip and held out his hand to Chess. “But sometimes you can plan. Chess?”
Puzzled, Chess set his glass on the coffee table. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to give you an engagement present, something that has meaning to our relationship.” Leaving Chess looking more mystified than ever, he walked over to the far wall of the room, picked up a heavily wrapped, bulky bundle, and returned to the center of the room, where Chess stood waiting. Everyone remained silent as he held out the present. “This is for you because it reminds me of us and the special times we shared.”
Chess set it on the chair and undid the bow and paper. The watercolor painting of The Boathouse in Central Park was as magical as André remembered when Chess pointed it out.
Chess’s jaw dropped. He was clearly stunned, and he rubbed his eyes before picking it up with both hands, his gaze fixed on the painting. “It’s-it’s the one from the gallery in Southampton. The one I was looking at when you proposed.” He whispered, “The Boathouse.”
“Yes. I didn’t forget.”
“I didn’t either,” Chess said, his eyes shining like liquid silver. “Our first weekend together.”
And the painting seemed to capture that moment. The misty green of the trees surrounding the building blended with the jewel-colored flowers dotting the emerald lawn, and blue of the water, with boats gliding along the tranquil surface. The day he and Chess had returned from town, André had called the gallery to purchase the painting, and they delivered it the day he left for Florida. Dottie had been given strict instructions to hide it from Chess.
“How beautiful,” Spencer remarked. “A gorgeous remembrance of a day you’ll never forget.” He raised his glass. “To André and Chess. May they have a long and happy marriage.”
“Hear, hear.”
Everyone raised their glasses and drank the champagne, but André only had eyes for Chess. “Do you like it?”
Chess carefully set the painting on the chair. “It’s like a dream. Ever since we’ve gotten engaged, I feel like I’ve been floating through the days. I love you so much, and I never imagined…” He cut himself short and shook his head.
André took him in his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just overwhelmed.” Eyes blurry with tears, Chess sniffled. “I don’t have anything grand like this to show how much you mean to me.”
“I don’t need anything but you and your love. And trust.”
