Page 83 of Men in Shorts

“A better world comes from better people.” Ben folded Duncan’s discarded napkin as he spoke, the olive tone of his hands a warm complement to the ivory linen. “And love makes people better. I don’t mean just the couple who are marrying. The guests, too. Going to a good wedding, it sort of rejuvenates the soul, you know?”

Evan nodded, and not just out of politeness, for he actually agreed. As painful as this night had been, on another level it was…if nothealing, at least restorative.

“At every wedding,” Ben said, “I see guests filing in wearing these cynical looks. Maybe they don’t like the couple, or they like one half but hate the other half and think the first half is making a terrible mistake. Or maybe they’re happy for the couple but unhappy in general for their own reasons.” He turned the napkin over and kept folding, his slim, graceful fingers moving faster than Evan could keep up with. “Maybe they’re feeling poorly or had a bad week at their job. Maybe they just got divorced. By my estimate, roughly 45% of wedding guests are miserable when they show up. My goal is to have 100% of them happy—or at least happier—when the night is over.”

“One hundred percent? Is that realistic?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Ben tucked the corners of the napkin into its fold. “I know I can’t singlehandedly save the world by laying the perfect table, but I believe the happiness generated in this room contributes to a larger, I don’t know, pool of planetary positivity.” He set down the completed napkin, in the form of a floppy-eared rabbit, and nudged it against Evan’s forearm.

Something flipped over inside Evan, and he was stabbed with a sudden sadness. This man was too kind, too pure a soul to suffer through life with a spy. Evan would only sully him, maybe one day break his heart as he’d broken Fergus’s.

Ben was too good for him.

“What about you?” Ben asked. “Do you save the world for a living?” He tilted his head, then removed his glasses and pulled out the scarlet handkerchief from his suit pocket. “What is your job, anyway? Something exciting, I’ll bet.”

The time for honesty was over. “I’m an architect, like Fergus. But mind on, you promised not to make the question about me.”

“I was hoping you forgot.” Ben carefully polished his lenses with the handkerchief. “I was only wondering whether you were one of those people who think making the world a better place is an irrelevant dream and that we should all just look after ourselves and our own.”

“I’m definitely not one of those people.” Evan paused. “Life would be easier if I was.”Then I could take what I wanted, which right now is you.

Ben’s phone bleeped. He looked at the run sheet. “That’s cake time. I need to go.” He paused. “You’ll be all right?”

Evan didn’t want to watch Fergus and John feed each other cake, because half of the guests would be watchinghimfor his reaction, as they’d done during the first dance. “I’ll keep myself busy. Maybe I’ll shovel the snow between here and the nearest road. It’s only what, two miles?”

“Och, the snow!” Ben lurched to his feet, scraping the chair against the ancient stone floor. “I need to see about all these guests. They’ll need rooms, towels, toothbrushes—oh my God, there’s so much to remember.”

“I’ll do it.”

Ben stopped. “Why?”

“To help you. You’ve enough on your plate.” Also, Evan would feel safer knowing who every guest was and where they were staying. “I’ll get the list from Lord Andrew and sort it all with his parents.”

Ben’s shoulders slumped with relief. “You, sir, are a Christmas angel.”

“Six days late, but okay.”

“A Hogmanay angel, then.” Ben took a step away, then stopped again. “Be sure to come back by three o’clock to sing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”

“I’ll be here.” Though he knew he shouldn’t, Evan wanted to see Ben one last time.

As he set out on his task, Evan made his first New Year’s resolution: He’d take his father’s advice to try and meet someone within MI5. There were no other gay men at the Glasgow regional office—total staff usually numbered around thirty—but next time he went to headquarters in London he’d seek out one of the lads who’d shown interest in the past.

After seeing Fergus and John marry, Evan knew one thing: He didn’t want to be alone anymore. And after meeting Ben, Evan knew another thing: He couldn’t risk ruining the life of another good man.

* * *

“Heardyou got the best room in the castle,” Duncan told Ben as the reception neared the end. “Other than Fergus and John, obviously—but only just.”

“Who told you that?”

“Lord Andrew. Evan arranged it, said you deserved it for all the hard work you did.” Duncan bobbed his eyebrows. “Or maybe he’s hoping to stay there with you tonight.”

Two hours ago, Ben had hoped for that as well. But Evan had kept his distance ever since Ben had blethered on about weddings whilst folding that ridiculous bunny napkin. What an arse he’d made of himself. He should have kept to shallow flirtation.

But something about Evan pushed all of Ben’s Deep Thought buttons. He wanted toknowthis man—and be known by him—inside and out. The things he wanted to say and hear weren’t one-night stand material. They were more like first-date or even twentieth-date material. The thought ofthatterrified him for reasons he wasn’t ready to explore, not while there was still a reception to run.

Soon it came to an end, with the wedding party and guests forming a circle to sing “Auld Lang Syne,” per tradition. Ben searched for Evan, wanting to hold his hand even for just a minute, but Evan was already linking up with two women—a teammate and one of Fergus’s cousins. So Ben settled for standing directly across the circle from him, holding hands with Duncan and Lord Andrew.

---