“What kind of project?”
“Feed me and I’ll tell you about it.”
After they’d eaten—tiramisu and fruit salad Riley had brought from Susan’s—Thorne told Riley to close his eyes. He retrieved the painting from the spare bedroom, unwrapped it, and carried it back to where he’d left Riley at the table. “Okay, open your eyes.”
Riley did. “Oh my God, that’s the painting, the one from the art opening. You bought it.”
“I did. It was delivered a few days after you…left.”
“And you never put it up.”
“I wanted us to hang it together. I wanted it to be for you.”
Riley looked like he was going to protest, but then he simply said, “Thank you.”
“So where should we put it?”
Riley turned, looking around the apartment. “Here.” He pointed to the wall behind the table. “The light is perfect.”
Thorne smiled. “I agree, and every time you cook for me, we’ll see it.” As soon as the words were out, he worried he’d said the wrong thing. “If you want to cook for me, that is. No pressure.”
“I do. I want to spend a lot of time here, with you.”
“You’re always welcome.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“I’m serious; you could even…” Move in. Thorne wanted to say it, but it was too early. He knew that.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Thorne.” Riley’s tone said he’d keep asking until Thorne told him.
“I was going to say move in, but I shouldn’t ask that now. I’m trying to be good and not demand too much.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Thorne couldn’t believe it. He’d expected to be scolded. “You will?”
“Yes, and in the meantime, I’ll keep making sure you remember that sometimes, I’m the one who makes the demands.”
Thorne thought about being bent over the couch the night before. “I like it when you’re demanding.”
Riley smiled. “On occasion, I like you that way too.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
Riley wrapped his arms around Thorne and pulled him close. “I know. I forgive you.”
Thorne sucked in his breath. How could those simple words mean so much? He felt lighter, happier even than he’d been the night before. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for not giving up on me, for risking yourself. If you hadn’t…”
“I couldn’t let you go.”
“Merry Christmas,” Riley murmured, pulling Thorne down for a kiss.
Merry Christmas. Thorne merely thought the words as Riley’s lips met his and everything in his world brightened. This was joy. This was love. And somehow, he’d been lucky enough to find it.