They shared a sardonic glance, and then grinned because maybe the mind meld was rusty, but it was still working.
Taylor used his chopsticks to steal a slice of glazed bell pepper from Will’s plate.
Will’s mouth quirked, he fended off another foray of Taylor’s chopsticks, and said, “Do you think we made a mistake?”
“Which possible mistake are we talking about?”
“The global security consulting business.”
It was almost a relief to hear Will put it into words. “Yes. I do.”
Will snorted. “Just say what you think. Don’t worry about my feelings.”
“I think we made a mistake.”
Will sighed. “Me too. It bores the hell out of me. From meeting clients to asset control.”
“Me too. I was thinking it didn’t matter what we did as long as we did it together.”
“But it does,” Will agreed.
“It does, yeah. I don’t know what we can do about it, though. It’s going to take two years to pay Richard back even with Webster Fidelity.”
“There’s no way we can get our old jobs back. And even if we could…”
“We wouldn’t be working together. We’d be repartnered.”
Will was watching him carefully. “Does that still matter to you?”
“What?” Taylor frowned. “What do you mean? Of course it matters to me. That was the whole point.”
“It was before. But now?”
Taylor froze. “Now? Are you saying it doesn’t matter to you?”
“It matters, yes. But if we’re not…”
“If we’re not what?”
Will seemed to gather himself. He said stoically, “If we’re not going to be together, maybe it’s not the obstacle we’re thinking it is.”
The impact of Will’s words was weirdly similar to being shot. It was hard to get his breath, he felt cold all the way through, and the pain was incredible.
Taylor said unemotionally, “Good point.”
Will swallowed, gave a little okay then nod, stared out the open window.
They were quiet and careful, almost gentle with each other the rest of the day.
They had dinner at…well, really, what did it matter? One of the big hotels overlooking one of the big beaches. The food was great, the scenery beautiful, and Taylor felt numb to the bone. The way he had felt all afternoon after he realized Will wanted out.
Not that he blamed him.
He had not listened to Will’s concerns over Ashe. He had put Will in a position where he’d had to shoot to protect him—and Will was having nightmares about that. No surprise. So was Taylor.
He could have gotten Will killed.
No wonder Will was done.
Not that he hadn’t made mistakes too, but even after Paris, even after David Bradley, even after the pursuit of Webster Fidelity when they didn’t have the resources to pull it off, Taylor hadn’t been ready to throw in the towel.
It had been such a good start to the day. Such a great morning. He’d started thinking they might find their way home. But by lunch, Will had made it clear there was no going back.
“Are you okay?” Will asked over their after-dinner drinks. “You haven’t said anything in twenty minutes.”
Taylor pulled himself together, smiled, said, “I think I need some air. Maybe I’ll walk on the beach for a little bit. I can get a cab back to the inn.”
If anything, Will looked more concerned. “You want some company?”
Not really. And at the same time, yes, desperately, because if these were the last few days of being together, being a couple, then Taylor wanted every minute. Even if it made it harder in the end.
Honestly, what could be harder than what they were facing?
Taylor shrugged. “Sure.”
They paid their bill, left the restaurant, and walked down a long, sandy flight of stairs to the beach. It looked mostly deserted. A few distant couples with the same idea—or probably, a better idea. The night was cold, the coldest night yet, and Taylor was wishing Will would put his arm around him.
He almost missed a step, realizing that Will might never put his arm around him again. Will’s hand shot out, grabbing Taylor’s arm, steadying him.
“You didn’t have that much to drink.” There was a teasing note in his voice.
Taylor laughed. At least, he tried to make the pain blocking his throat sound like a laugh.
Once again, he could see Will looking at him, trying to read him, could feel Will’s concern, his kindness. Because even if they weren’t going to be together, Will would never stop caring about him. They would always be friends. Witness good old Lt. Commander David Bradley.
Who now had a good shot at having all his dreams come true.
They reached the soft, sandy floor of the beach, and Taylor strode off. Will followed. They walked just out of reach of the waves. It was chillier by the water, but the chill was better than the numbness.
He walked toward the huge silver moon, walked and walked and walked, and then finally sat down in the sand. It still felt warm from the sunny day.
Will sat beside him, shoulder brushing Taylor’s.
They said nothing, just watched the inky flood and retreat of glittery water against glittery shore.
There was so much Taylor wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start, and what was the point now?
He could feel Will watching him. He turned to meet Will’s gaze. The moonlight threw everything into stark relief, making Will’s eyes look black and fathomless.
“What?” Taylor asked.
Will looked out toward the waves. His mouth curved, but there was no humor.
When he didn’t answer, Taylor said, “You’re going to think it’s funny. Until today, I didn’t realize you’d given up on us.”
“I don’t think it’s funny.” Will glanced at him. “And I would never give up on us. Except…”
“Except you have.”
“No.” There was pain in Will’s voice. “What do you think this trip was about?” He drew an oddly shaky breath. “But.”
“But what?”
“Do you really think you’ll ever forgive me?” Will’s voice was quiet. “Don’t you think this is always going to be between us?”
Initially, all Taylor heard was, This is always going to be between us. Then the first part of Will’s words sank in.
Honestly, regardless of anything else,
