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“You’re never not pleasant to be around, Andrew,” he said, hooking their index fingers together.

Andrew’s heart stuttered, equal parts fear and elation and hope striking him in the chest.

“Oh. Oh, I . . .” His eyes flickered to their interlocked fingers and then back up to Edwin’s face. “Neither are you, Edwin. You are never not pleasant to be around, too.”

Edwin huffed a soft laugh and averted his eyes. Andrew’s heart continued to hammer and flutter as he waited for him to reply. Edwin’s smile faltered a little.

Finally, in a whispered voice, Edwin said, “I’m sorry, Andrew. I can’t seem to keep myself from finding excuses to touch you. I know that must be . . . confusing for you. It’s confusing for me as well. I promise I’m not trying to be contradictory, though. I know what I said when I came to your studio. And it still is true. But I . . . Andrew, I can’t . . .”

Andrew squeezed Edwin’s finger.

“I know. All of this . . . It’s new for me, too. And it’s terrifying.”

“Even more so for me,” Edwin said. Despite the low light, Andrew was able to see Edwin’s eyes, and his heart clenched as they became misty. “I know that sounds conceited for me to say, but it’s true. I can’t even tell you why it’s true, but it is. I’m . . . oh, I’m not trying to hurt you, Andrew. I swear I’m not. But we can’t be more than this. Whatever this is.”

Seconds passed.

Tentatively, Andrew lifted his and Edwin’s barely linked hands. Exhaling a shaky breath, he uncurled his fingers, breaking the bond between them. He kept his hand raised, his palm flat and fingers extended. And then Edwin pressed his palm to Andrew’s.

“Let’s just be this, then,” Andrew replied in a whisper.

Edwin shook his head a little. “I can’t ask that of you. Because whatever this is, I know it won’t be enough for you. Someday, it won’t be enough. You’ll want more.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

Andrew winced as sorrow twisted inside him. Oh, how he wished Edwin would believe him. Being with a man in this manner, with little bits of physical intimacy and exchanges of compliments—it was more than he had ever dreamed of.

Even when Andrew had fallen in love with Theodore, he hadn’t expected his oldest and most cherished friend to reciprocate, only for them to remain friends, even when he’d finally confessed that he liked men in this manner. He hadn’t expected beautifully written letters or shy touches or stolen moments of timid intimacy like this. If, for whatever reason, Edwin only ever wanted these things—these little things—and nothing more, then Andrew would still want them to be together.

All he wanted was for them to be whatever they were right at that very moment.

“Edwin,” he said, his whispered voice urgent, “I won’t.” He lifted his other hand—an invitation for Edwin to mirror him. “Let’s just be this. Please.”

Andrew’s plea went unanswered for a few seconds as Edwin continued to stare into Andrew’s eyes, the man seemingly searching for something.

Just as Andrew almost gave up hope, Edwin lifted his other hand and kissed their palms together. Andrew’s breath caught, and he curled his fingers over Edwin’s, heat blooming in his chest. Whatever they were right then, it was enough.

In fact, it was more than enough. It was perfect.

Edwin smiled shyly, a hint of sadness lingering in his eyes, and said, “Do you want to show me how to handle the plates now?”

Andrew nodded, and they both retracted their hands.

Chapter Thirteen

Edwin

One hour later, Edwin was finally starting to feel proficient in switching out the plates in between photography sessions. Keeping his hands hooked behind his back, he waited for Andrew to finish photographing the Eastman family. Once he heard the rustling of Mrs. Eastman’s elaborate skirt, followed by light, happy laughter, he knew the session had ended and got ready, sidestepping over to the flap between the sheets. Andrew’s hand snuck in moments later, and Edwin took the plateholder from him. Then he replaced the exposed plate with a new one.

“Ready,” he called out once the plateholder was loaded.

Andrew’s hand reappeared. When Edwin moved to give him the plateholder, their fingers brushed, and heat rushed to Edwin’s cheeks. Even after Andrew retracted his hand, Edwin still remained in the same spot, blushing, pins and needles moving over his skin from the brief moment of contact.

He and Andrew had become something.

Even though that something hadn’t exactly been defined yet, the fact that they’d spoken about it out loud had still transformed the intimacy between them, changing it from something that had mostly been implied—secret meanings present in between the lines of their handwritten letters as well as a few smiles and a series of small touches—into something that was both undeniable and real.