Graham stared at the hand, then grabbed it and tugged James in for a brief hug. He pounded James’s back and backed away, both men shifting from the discomfort of the emotional display.
“Drink?” Graham asked, turning away to regain some control over his emotions.
“Yes.” James’s voice was thick.
Graham poured them each a scotch and motioned to the chairs by the fire. They sat together, nursing the drinks for a moment before James set his aside and leaned forward, draping his forearms over his knees.
“Does your accepting me here mean you have decided to forgive your friends?”
Graham closed his eyes. James meant Simon. James meant going back to normal. He’d been thinking of it more and more lately, but seeing Simon the night before made him realize just how much he still stung.
He sighed. “I know it isn’t your fault. That this quarrel is between Simon and me, but—”
“Just come to supper,” James interrupted.
Graham opened his eyes and stared. His friend looked a little desperate as he made the suggestion. “I don’t know,” he said slowly.
James shook his head. “It will only be Emma and me,” he reassured him. “Please, it’s just a start. I only want a start, Graham.”
Graham pushed to his feet and paced across the room as he considered the request. He did miss James. He missed all his friends and the camaraderie and family they had represented to him all the years they’d had their club. They were the only family who had ever mattered.
“Very well,” he said at last.
James leapt to his feet, and his grin was almost impossible not to return. “Most excellent,” he said. “I’m so happy, and I know Emma will be delighted, as well.”
Graham tilted his head. “You’re content,” he said, a statement, not a question.
“I am more than content. I’m blissful. I never thought I could be so happy, nor deserve to be loved as deeply as she loves me. But I can. Ido.” He stressed the last word heavily. “So do you.”
Graham couldn’t help but flash to an image of pale blonde hair and soft lips, superimposed over another of dark-rimmed spectacles and sharp wit. He shook the cacophony away and said, “Well, not all of us can be so lucky.”
James paused a moment before he said, “You danced with Adelaide last night.”
Graham rolled his eyes. “To avoid the whispers of the crowd when Simon and Meg came in. I assure you there was…there was nothing between us.”
James pursed his lips. “Well, she is a wallflower. I know from personal experience that wallflowers make the best wives.”
Graham waved him off. “For you, perhaps. But right now I assure you that finding a wife is last on a long list of things I want to do.”
James shrugged one shoulder. “If you say so. For now I will simply be pleased that one of those things is coming to supper.”
“Yes, for now supper will have to be enough,” Graham agreed, then elbowed his friend. “Game of billiards?”
James’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Since you ran off to London, I haven’t had a decent match.”
They moved toward the hall together and Graham grinned. “You mean you haven’t taught Emma to play yet?” he teased.
James barked out a laugh. “Every time I try, I get…distracted by her,” he admitted.
Graham shook his head, even as a warm sense of belonging filled him, one he hadn’t allowed for months. Opening this door, even a tiny sliver, felt right to him. And he looked forward to a quiet evening with his friends before he went back to the tangled confusion of his life.
Chapter Six
Adelaide stood in the nursery of Emma’s London home, cooing over the sweetest christening outfit she’d ever seen. “The lace is fantastic,” she said, fingering the softness of it.
“It’s been in James’s family for generations,” Emma said with a contented sigh. “He wore it, as did Meg, and now this baby will continue the tradition.”
“Oh, Emma,” Adelaide whispered, shocked that tears suddenly stung her eyes. She turned away so her friend wouldn’t see, but turning away from herself was not possible.
