Page 64 of Something Like Winter
Eric coughed, taking another sip of champagne to soothe his throat. “Excuse me. Yes, there was someone else. Gabriel, the love of my life. I built that home for the both of us. He left all the details to me, happy with how I threw myself into it. I had just decided to retire, and I think he worried I would become a different person, but I attacked the project with just as much gusto as I did our work.”
“You guys worked together?”
“Mm-hm. Our relationship was very much career-based. We were both stockbrokers. Gabriel had the connections and clients, and I had the foresight to invest in little-known technology companies that have now become household names.”
“Microsoft?” Tim guessed.
“Among others. We got rich and made our clients even richer. I was happy to become independently wealthy, but Gabriel—” Eric shrugged. “We lived in that house together for six years, and it was one of the happiest times of my life. That’s all that matters.”
The first course appeared—an appetizer that looked more like modern art than food. Delicately arranged cubes were decorated with sprigs and savory syrups. Tim couldn’t tell exactly what they’d been served, but as soon as the first bite was in his mouth, the food was so delicious he decided he didn’t care if he was eating poodle.
“So what happened?” Tim asked.
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Eric teased. “My life is twice as long as yours.” He peered at Tim. “Oh god, maybe even three times!”
Tim grinned. “With you and Gabriel. Did he run off with the pool boy?”
“The pool boy, yes.”
“Dude! Sorry! I was trying to be funny.”
“So was I.” Eric winked. “It wasn’t the pool boy, but it was a much younger man. Gabriel didn’t take to retirement. He kept working as a broker, only from home, which isn’t the same as being in the thick of it on Wall Street. Myself, I didn’t see the point. Once you’re rich, what’s the sense in getting richer? But what I failed to understand was Gabriel’s need for a challenge. Eventually he met someone who became that challenge.”
“That sucks.”
Eric shrugged but then nodded. “At least the young man was stunningly handsome. Somehow that made it almost forgivable. Why, he could have given you a run for your money.”
“Impossible!” Tim said mockingly. This made Eric laugh, which was good, but he felt bad for the guy. “Sounds really shitty. How long were you together?”
“Seventeen years. It was a good run. And yes, for the first few years apart, it was shitty, but I’ve made my peace. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Eric gave a brave smile and tackled his food.
Tim joined him, considering the similarities of their stories. More than once, Tim had given himself the same pep talks—saying it was for the best that he had split up with Ben, because Tim couldn’t give him what he needed. Ben had surely found his Prince Charming out there, someone who could be as bold and open and as wonderful as Ben was. Someone better.
Just the thought made his stomach tight. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
“What?”
“That you’re happy with how things turned out.”
“I do,” Eric said firmly. Then his cheeks grew red. “Most of the time. Maybe I’m kidding myself. I mean, I still carry his photo around with me.”
“Really? Let me see!”
Eric shook his head ruefully and pulled out his wallet. In the plastic envelop that people usually stuffed with pictures of their kids was a black and white photo folded at the bottom. Eric handed it to Tim, and he discovered it was from one of those novelty photo booths. Unfolding the strip of photos, he saw the same two faces repeating. Eric’s hair was darker, his face tighter. Next to him was a handsome black man with a pencil-thin mustache. Their expressions changed slightly from each photo, all of them happy, except in one where Eric appeared slightly surprised. Tim wondered if that’s the way he looked when finding out about Gabriel’s new lover.
“You guys made a cute couple,” he said, handing back the photos.
“Thank you.” Eric carefully folded the strip and returned it to his wallet. “Even though the relationship ended on a sour note, I don’t regret a thing. Do you?”
“You mean Ben? Absolutely not. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
Their empty appetizer plates were replaced by an entrée. Tim was happy to see this wasn’t so dainty. A drumstick sat on one side of the plate, poultry of some sort but too big to be chicken. Something like mashed potatoes—which Eric soon identified as a parsnip and truffle purée—accompanied by a side salad with so many ingredients that Tim didn’t think any of them were repeated twice.
“So,” Eric said between bites, “do you carry a photo of Ben in your wallet?”
Tim snorted. “Are you kidding? I was way too careful to have something like that. I don’t have a single photo of him anywhere.” He frowned at his plate. “I kind of regret that. His face gets a little fuzzier in my mind every year that goes by. Sometimes I worry I’ll forget it completely.”
“You won’t,” Eric said. “You may not remember every detail, but most of it stays with you. Have you ever tried looking him up?”
