Butterflies fluttered around in Sam’s chest, and he barely managed a nod.
“I think . . . it’s perfect.”
“Yeah,” Ollie agreed, smiling again. He stretched up slightly in invitation, and Sam met him partway, their lips brushing together in a gentle kiss.
They settled back and watched the sunrise, and when the sun was fully up, its bright warmth signaling the start of the new day, Sam shifted slightly.
“Can I make you breakfast now, love? French toast and eggs and strawberries.” He’d planned even more, of course. He’d also bought sausage and potatoes and orange juice. But even though Ollie’s appetite had mostly returned the last day or two, Sam didn’t want to push it and make too much food.
Ollie gave a small nod. “That sounds wonderful. But this time, you have to let me do the dishes. It’s only fair that—”
“Nope.”
“Sam.”
“Nope.”
“But, I—”
“You deserve to rest and relax, and since I’m the one making the dishes dirty, I’m the one who’s going to wash them, and”—Sam shook his head as Ollie started to protest—“I know what you’re going to say, but my answer is the same. I want to do this. I want to spoil you. You... deserve to be loved and taken care of, and... and I want to do that for you. Please.”
His argument seemed to have the effect he wanted, because Ollie pursed his lips for a moment, then smiled andnodded gently. Sam grinned triumphantly, kissed Ollie’s lips again, and stood up, Ollie following him. Together, they moved into the kitchen, and Ollie settled himself on one of the bar stools pushed up to the island while Sam started taking the ingredients he needed out of the fridge.
As he cooked, they talked. It was easy conversation, flowing from one topic to another without any real rhyme or reason. They talked about art and music and about movies that were coming out later in the year that they hoped to see. They talked about the design of the rental house and then about how the best feature was all the windows lining the eastern wall of the master bedroom because that made the sunrises that much more incredible.
Then, as they took their food outside to the patio and settled on the sofa, they talked some more. Ollie told him about one of his new projects at work and how they were hoping to translate their discoveries with advanced antibody technologies into cancer therapy—the real reason Ollie had been so excited when he’d gotten the job at Camden. And they talked about maybe running a half-marathon together later in the fall. And Ollie mentioned how he wanted to take his mom to see the Seattle Symphony for her birthday, which was in November.
And Sam just loved it. All of it. He loved watching Ollie get excited over his work and talk about the future, and he loved the feeling in his chest—all butterflies and tingling and warmth—as Ollie closed his eyes to savor a strawberry. He loved watching Ollie smile, and he loved the sound of Ollie’s laugh when Sam told him one of his silly jokes.
Most of all, he loved the light in Ollie’s eyes. It was... warm and real and bright, just like when they’d first met nearly two years ago. Filled with hope and expectation and anticipation.
When they finished eating—Sam secretly smiling because Ollie cleaned up every crumb on his plate—Sam cleared the dishes from the table, helped Ollie settle outside with another fresh cup of coffee, and then returned inside to stick the dishes in the dishwasher and put away the leftovers. Fifteen minutes later, he joined Ollie on the patio sofa again.
“This is my favorite spot,” Ollie said as Sam settled down and pulled Ollie into his arms.
He nodded. “It’s got a perfect view, and—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ollie cut in, and he twisted in Sam’s embrace to look up at him. Ollie’s gentle smile sent the butterflies fluttering again, and Sam swallowed hard as he watched Ollie’s eyes dart down to his lips.
“Oh . . . ?”
Ollie grinned and then leaned into Sam, pressing a soft kiss to Sam’s lips. “I mean here, with you, in your arms. That’s my favorite spot.”
Sam’s heart clenched, and with a shaky hand, he reached up and cupped Ollie’s cheek. He wanted to say something about always, about forever, about how he would be here for Ollie, this spot would be here for him—unconditionally. But he hesitated, and not because he was unsure about that fact or about the certainty of his love, but because he didn’t want to overwhelm Ollie with the strength of his conviction.
His thumb brushed across Ollie’s cheek, and he dipped his head down for another kiss. “I love you, Ollie.” He felt Ollie smile against his lips, and they kissed again before Ollie settled back with his head resting against Sam’s shoulder.
“So, the farmers’ market?” Ollie asked, although he made no effort to move from his spot.
“Yeah. It’s supposed to start at ten. And we can walk to town if you want. It’s just less than a mile.”
“M’kay.”
Sam let his hand caress softly up and down Ollie’s bicep as they both still made no effort to move, and he kissed the top of Ollie’s head again and then stared out over the water. When Ollie sighed contentedly and smoothed his hand across Sam’s stomach a moment later, Sam closed his eyes and tightened his arm around Ollie’s shoulders.
It felt so good.
“Should we... go?” Ollie’s voice teased a little as he brought his hand back closer to the center of Sam’s abdomen, and Sam swallowed hard.
