“Being my sous chef.”
Bennett huffed. “I’m overqualified.”
“And yet here you are,” Jasper replied, smiling.
They ate on the deck as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The air was cool but not cold. The quiet felt complete.
“Can I ask you something?” Jasper said.
Bennett nodded. “Always.”
“Are you happy?”
Bennett set his fork down and looked at Jasper. Really looked at him.
“Yes,” he said. “I am.”
Jasper smiled. “Good.”
“Are you?” Bennett asked.
Jasper reached across the table and took his hand. “Very.”
They sat like that for a while, watching the light fade, neither of them in a rush to move.
Later, inside, they built a fire. Jasper was better at it, which Bennett grudgingly admitted. They settled on the couch together, Bennett’s head on Jasper’s shoulder, Jasper’s arm around him.
“This is nice,” Bennett said.
“It is,” Jasper agreed. “We should do this more often.”
Bennett considered that. The idea of regular weekends away. Of building routines that included rest and spontaneity and each other.
“I’d like that,” he said.
Jasper pressed a kiss to his temple. “Then we will.”
The fire crackled. Outside, the night settled in completely. Inside, Bennett felt something he hadn’t expected.
Peace.
Sunday morning,Bennett woke to sunlight and Jasper’s arm across his waist.
“Morning,” Jasper murmured.
“Morning.”
They made coffee, moved around the kitchen with easy coordination. Breakfast by the window, watching the lake shimmer.
“I don’t want to go back yet,” Jasper said.
“Neither do I,” Bennett admitted.
“We could stay another night.”
Bennett’s instinct was to say no. He had work Monday. Responsibilities. A schedule to maintain.
But he looked at Jasper, at the hope in his expression, and made a different choice.
