He’d run home when he realized that life wasn’t forever, when he’d had his first real and serious brush with death, because his life wasn’t complete without the man he’d left behind.
Already, he was happier. Ben would probably have laughed to hear that, said he didn’tseemhappy… but he hadn’t seen the Sam of six months ago. The one who’d lived completely inside his own shell, all smiles on the outside, all heartbreak on the inside. Nothing had ever made him feel at peace.
Not until he’d sat in the quiet room at this retreat, listening to Ben breathing beside him.
“Yeah,” Sam said belatedly, pulling himself back to the present. “Yeah, uh. I’d like that. I’ll… supply the booze, I guess.”
“I expected you to have an encyclopedic knowledge of wine by now,” Ben said.
“You don’t drink wine,” Sam pointed out. Ben was a bourbon and coke kind of man, beer on really hot days in the summer. Single-malt scotch when he was feeling contemplative.
“It’s probably time I learned.” Ben shrugged. “I was hoping you might teach me.”
Sam opened his mouth to say that he actually hadn’t learned much at all, but thought better of it. If Ben wanted to learn, Sam would find out and be his extremely willing teacher. He liked the mental image of Ben satisfied and wine-drunk, a little softer around the edges than usual, laughing for once.
His heart ached at the thought. He wanted that, that simple togetherness, more than anything.
He’d thought he was coming all this way to sweep Ben off his feet, but he would have been content to just sit beside him.
“I guess we could come to some kind of arrangement,” Sam agreed.
“Good.” Ben didn’t look up, but Sam could hear a smile in his voice.
Quiet dinners with Ben were all he really wanted out of life.
