They unpacked with their typical quick efficiency—maybe less talkative than usual, but then there was no job to discuss. Or rather, the job was to get their relationship back on track. In a funny way, Will was reminded of that camping trip from hell in the High Sierras. The trip that had changed everything between them.
Or rather, the trip that was supposed to fix everything that had changed between them.
That was the hope here, and Taylor must have shared it too because he had agreed to this impromptu vacation, just as he had agreed to camping in the mountains. At least this time they were somewhere warm and comfortable and to Taylor’s liking.
At least Will hoped it was to his liking.
“What do you think?” he asked as Taylor sat down on the foot of the bed, pulled off his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Taylor glanced up. “Nice. Very nice.”
“What would you like to do first? Grab something to eat? Check out the beach?”
Taylor gave a funny half-laugh. “Honestly? More than anything I’d like to sleep.”
They had not been sleeping much. Over the past few days, there had been a lot of lying still and controlling breathing so as not to disturb the other. Funny how you could know someone so well, you could tell the difference between their real sleep and their fake sleep.
“We’re on vacation,” Will said. “We’re allowed to sleep. Let’s sleep.”
“Are you sure? Because we’ve only got—”
“I think we’ll enjoy the rest of our time a lot more if we get some rest.” Will sat down on the bed. All at once he was so tired, he couldn’t see straight. As if it had taken all his strength to get them here. He let himself fall back on the fern and cactus print comforter, folded his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes.
After a moment, he felt the mattress give as Taylor rose, heard Taylor’s boots hitting the carpet, felt the mattress dip again. He opened his eyes. Taylor lay beside him, as straight and neatly contained as a stone effigy, and once again Will thought that he’d shoot a hundred Ashe Dekkers before he’d let anything happen to Taylor, whether Taylor ever forgave him or not.
For a moment they lay still and silent, their breathing even and regular. The sliding doors to the lanai were open, and the whisper of draperies, the rustle of the palm trees was peaceful. The breeze was a little moist, scented with exotic flowers. It did not smell like home, but it was nice.
Once, and not that long ago, Will would have turned to Taylor and kissed him, and regardless of how tired they were… But he didn’t quite dare. In fact, as much as he wanted to put his arm around Taylor, he didn’t quite dare that either. These days it was like Taylor had a force field around him, and Will was standing outside, looking in.
He was so afraid of making matters worse, he did nothing, which was probably guaranteed to make matters worse.
It was just that he was so painfully aware of the, well, error of his ways. For two years he had been taking things for granted. Everything from dismissing Taylor’s insecurities about David to turning down the Paris posting without discussing it with his partner first. And yes, he had realized he was being kind of high-handed about stuff, but he had excused his behavior because he was sincerely trying to do the right thing for both of them. But however much he loved Taylor—more than his own life, that was the truth—and however much he wanted to take care of Taylor, keep him out of harm’s way, he didn’t have the right to make some of the choices he’d made without talking it out with the person most affected by these decisions.
It was kind of ironic that this epiphany should be brought about by the one decision he didn’t second-guess, wouldn’t take back even if he could—the decision to put Ashe Dekker down. Regardless of what Taylor thought, Dekker had been about to kill him. Will had zero doubts.
He could understand and sympathize why Taylor had doubts, why Taylor didn’t want to believe his old friend had been willing to murder him, but Will? No regrets.
It didn’t mean he was happy about it, for God’s sake. He felt sick every time he remembered.
And sicker still on the nights he dreamed he fired too late.
If they could just talk like they used to…
That was the main thing he hoped for from this trip. If they could just manage to open the lines of communication again, that would be a start.
In the midst of these grim thoughts, Taylor shifted onto his side and put his arm around Will’s chest.
Taylor didn’t say anything, didn’t put his head on Will’s chest as he once would have done, but just that simple gesture closed Will’s throat, made his heart expand with emotion—not least gratitude.
They were a little groggy but definitely more relaxed at dinner. They found a place on the beach called Mama’s Fish House, with decor vaguely reminiscent of Aloha Steakhouse—lots of wood and bright-blue accents. They drank Bali Hais and Mai Tais and Scorpions—the kind of thing they ordinarily never touched—and got a little plastered. Taylor ordered the grilled Ahi baked in banana leaf, and Will got South Pacific salmon with caramelized onions, chili pepper, and avocado. They ate, drank, and watched the sun go down over the ocean.
They did not talk much, but the silence between them was friendlier than it had been of late.
“We should have done this a long time ago,” Will said, and Taylor smiled faintly because they both knew all the reasons they couldn’t have done this before. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing it now since it meant leaving Schwierskott—their newest employee—and Euphonia to deal with anything that might crop up. But maybe
