“Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll come.”
Hans nodded. “Good.”
“What exactly are you planning?” Adrik pressed, though amusement colored his tone.
“You’ll see.”
“You’re trouble, Hans.”
Hans bumped his shoulder lightly against Adrik’s. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Hans didn’t deny it. He just leaned back into the couch, letting their shoulders touch again. The warmth seeped into him, settling somewhere deep.
He took the last sip of his drink, then turned to Hans. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
“Stay the night.”
Hans’ expression softened, but he shook his head. “I can’t.”
“I want you to stay.”
“I can’t,” Hans repeated gently. “Be at my cottage at nine.” He pulled out a card with his address and handed it to Adrik. “You’ll be surprised how close we live to each other.”
“Then we’ll see each other often.”
Hans stood, and Adrik walked with him to the door. Hans put on his jacket, and Adrik pulled him into his arms and kissed him—slow, warm, lingering.
“See you tomorrow.” Hans paused, hand on the doorknob. “Dress casual.”
“I want to see you tomorrow night too. This time, I want to surprise you. Will you go on a date with me?” Adrik’s chest tightened.
“A date? I didn’t know you dated, and yes I want to be with you tomorrow night.”
“I rarely date men. Hookups mostly.”
“What about women?”
“I date women, but it’s different.”
Hans nodded.
“I like you, not other people. Just you.”
He hugged Hans tightly, wishing he had the power to make him stay. But Hans slipped out into the night with Adrik watching him, and leaving the cottage suddenly too quiet.
Adrik stood in the doorway long after Hans disappeared, the cold air brushing against his skin. The cottage was quieter, emptier, as if Hans had taken all the warmth with him. He shut the door slowly, leaning his forehead against it for a moment.
Tonight was when he had finally understood how alone he was in his new life. Back in New York, he’d never beenalone. Sergei had always been there—a shadow, a guardian, a constant presence. Fourteen years of someone watching his back, someone who knew his moods, someone who didn’t need explanations. Losing him left a hole Adrik didn’t know how to fill.
And now here he was, in a country where he barely spoke the language, where even buying groceries had been a test he wasn’t prepared for. Half the time he didn’t know what people were saying to him. The other half, he pretended he did.
Thank God Hans spoke English. Thank God he’d walked into that bar. Thank God he’d smiled at him.
Adrik stepped out onto the porch, lit a cigarette, and let the smoke curl into the chilly night air.
