Breakfast was a cold affair. Ned was exhausted from his sleepless night on the couch. Neil was hardly better. He hadn't slept a wink since he left his mate downstairs. He tried to comfort Ned, but his efforts were in vain. Ned was tired, but no less determined to remain aloof until he could make things right.

Marcus didn't seem to realize that his brother was in pain. He conversed with Neil as though Ned wasn't even there, something that did not pass unnoticed by either one of them. He buttered his toast, slathered it, more like, and Neil couldn't prevent a grimace of distaste from crossing his elegant features.

"Don't you…worry about your cholesterol?" Neil inquired.

"No. Why?"

Neil wanted to say, Because you don't even take *human* bites, but he managed to wrestle his tongue under control. "Oh."

"Edward, you've been awfully quiet this morning," Marcus boomed.

"I'm…a little tired."

"Ah, did you have a late night? Perhaps you went out after I went to bed?"

"No, Marcus."

"Hmm…pity that. You know, you never did tell me why you didn't marry that woman last year. What was her name again?"

"Rachel."

"Right, Rachel. Why didn't the two of you get married?"

"I told you. She wasn't interested."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so standoffish, she *would* be,"

"No, she wouldn't."

"Why ever not?"

"Look, I can't get married just cause you want me to, Marcus. It doesn't work that way."

"Well, in my day—"

"But this *isn't* your bloody day, is it, Marcus? It's *mine*. I don't want to get married."

Neil gave Ned a curious glance, but said nothing. Ned bit his bottom lip and sighed. "I mean, I can't get married because…"

"Yes?"

"I don't like girls. Not that way."

"You mean you're *gay*?" Marcus looked positively apoplectic. "Edward, you *cannot* be gay. I won't allow you—"

"There's not a bloody thing you can do about it, Marcus!" Ned shouted.

"It's a phase. You'll get over it."

"I don't want to get over it, Marcus. I'm happy the way I am."

"No, you're not. You look miserable. Anxious. Terrified."

"I'm miserable because I couldn't sleep last night. I'm anxious because I dreaded telling you this, and I'm terrified of what you're going to say when you find out the truth."

"And what exactly *is* the truth, Edward?" Marcus said in a chilly tone that gave even Neil pause.

Ned grew pale, the only spots of color in his face his dark brown eyes. "I'm in love with someone."

"I see. Is it serious?"

"Yes. Very. You see, I can't get married because…I'm already married."

"To this someone?"

"Yes."

"Does this someone have a name?"

Ned nodded, and Neil placed his hand over his lover's. His skin was so cold. Neil's heart went out to the younger man. He wished he could help, but Ned had come this far on his own, he would want to do this himself.

"It's Neil. Neil and I are together." Ned thought that the hard part was over, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Marcus interrupted.

"You and Neil?" Marcus barked. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous, Marcus." Neil couldn't help but leap into the fray. Ned was important to him, and he wasn't going to let him stand out there on that limb all alone.

Neil twined his fingers with Ned's, and Ned looked at him gratefully. Marcus, however, was not appeased. "You can't be serious! Neil! You and I were at college together! Many is the night we went out. Chasing *girls*, as I remember."

"And look how well that turned out," Neil said, giving Ned's hand a gentle squeeze.

"If you mean your marriage to Madeline—"

"I mean…look at him. Your brother. He's *your* Edward. But he's *my* Ned. I love him and I wouldn't give him up for all the fucking corporations in the world."

Marcus leaned back in his chair and surveyed the two of them. "You're not coming back to England, are you, Edward?"

"No, Marcus. I'm not. I'm happy here. For the first time in my life, I'm happy. Doesn't that make *you* happy? It should."

Marcus nodded absently. "You're right, of course. I'm afraid I haven't been fair to either one of you. For a very long time."

"I'll take that as an apology, Marcus." Ned smiled, and Neil leaned over and kissed him. He had indeed come a long way from the man Marcus knew at school.

"I still can't believe the two of you are…well, you know."

"Things change, Marcus," Neil said.

"Yes, they apparently do." Marcus shook his head. "But Edward, you'll never have a family. There'll be no…heir…to follow in your footsteps."

"The way I did yours? I was never happy, Marcus. You wanted me to be someone I'm not, and that, more than anything, was what hurt."

"Besides," Neil added, giving his lover a fond look, "he's got plenty of family right here."

Connor strode into the kitchen and grinned at his father before taking his place on the other side of Ned. Ned cried out, "You planned this? You asked him to come in here and—"

"Dad didn't have to ask me to do anything. We love you, Ned. We—"

Kady tugged on Ned's hand till he crouched down to stare into her deep brown eyes. "We're *your* kids, too, now," she said, surprising all of them.

"Oh, Kady," Ned whispered, pulling the little girl into his arms.

"Mr. Guest, you should know that my sister doesn't trust very many people, and then only after they pass the most rigid standards."

Marcus smiled at Connor, the tall young man who so resembled his father. "Well, I can see that it's never too late for an old dog to learn new tricks, is it?"

Kady stared at Marcus with horrified eyes. "Does that mean you've got fleas?"

The resulting laughter broke the tension that had been holding the room captive for so long. Neil pulled Ned onto his lap, and Ned lay his head on his lover's chest. "See what happens when you tell the truth? People surprise the hell out of you."

Ned smiled in his sleep.

Jazz could barely fit the key into the door. After fumbling with the lock three times and swearing colorfully, he managed to turn the key all the way. When the door opened, he immediately called Adam's name. "Adam! Come quick! Hurry!"

In the middle of shaving, Adam nearly sliced off his ear when he heard the panicky note in Jazz' voice. He swiped the towel across his half-unshaven face and ran for the front door.

He was unprepared for the unbelievably wide grin that split his lover's face. "What? I almost bled to death getting here and you look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

Suddenly he frowned. "And why are you home so early? Did you get fired already?"

"I don't *always* get fired, Adam," Jazz reminded him.

"No…sometimes you *quit*," Adam responded cheerfully.

Jazz threw his arms around Adam's neck and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss that made Adam forget that his face was still unshaven on one side. "I've got good news."

"Mmm?"

"Pay attention."

"That's kinda hard to do when you're kissing the life out of me."

Jazz bent his head and tugged Adam's earlobe into his mouth, his teeth gently gnawing on smooth skin. "Don't you want to hear my news?"

"Ummm…"

Jazz released him and danced away, hips swaying to a beat only he could hear. "I. Got. A. Job."

Adam rolled his eyes dramatically. "I know that. We said goodbye just a little while ago. Remember?"

"No, no, no, that was a *job*. This is a *job*."

"Righttt. Y'know, that was so subtle, I missed it. Want to run that by me again?"

"Someone wants to use me! *Me*! Of all people!" Jazz exclaimed, missing the odd look that fleetingly graced his lover's face.

"Actually, that's not so hard to imagine, Nick."

"Not *that* way, Adam. God, you've got a one-track mind, don't you?"

"Is there a right answer to that question?"

"No," Jazz replied with a sunny smile.

"Listen, Nick, you'd better get to the point cause I'm like conjuring up all sorts of stuff here, and trust me, none of it's good."

"I got an internship," Jazz declared triumpantly.

"You did? That's great! Doing what?"

"Nothing too exciting at first. Mostly cataloguing art for museums and stuff like that. But it could lead to something." Jazz hesitated. "Or it could…if it wasn't just for the summer."

Adam smiled. "But it pays real money?"

"Yeah. Can you believe it?"

"So when do you start?"

"Well, that's kinda the thing. It starts as soon as I can get a flight out."

If Jazz looked ambivalent, so did Adam, trapped between conflicting feelings. "A flight? You mean it's not here?"

"No. It's…um…in England."

"There aren't any museums here in France, Nick?" Adam didn't mean to sound accusatory, but he felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"You know there are, Adam," Jazz said softly. "But not many are willing to take on someone with my background—"

"What's wrong with your background? You're doing well in all your classes—"

"Yes, but I'm only a junior, Adam. All the good internships usually go to seniors, people a lot closer to graduation than me."

"So what's so great about taking inventory in a museum, for Pete's sake?"

"I'll be exposed to all kinds of things, Adam—"

"I'll bet."

"Not like that. I want to learn as much as I can, Adam. I think…I really want to be an artist."

"Like Declan? Why don't you get *him* to teach you, then?"

"Not like Declan. Like *me*. I really want to do this, Adam. But…"

Jazz sighed, his heart heavy now with the fear of losing what was really important to him. He loved Adam, but he wanted to make his own way, too. This opportunity came to *him*, and he wanted to take it. But not if it meant giving up Adam. "I know I'm asking a lot. I'd be there…and you'd be here. We wouldn't be together. But—"

"You really want to do this, Nicky?"

"Yeah." Pause. "Please don't hate me—"

"I don't hate you, Nick. I could never hate you. I *love* you. That's for always."

Jazz looked up expectantly, as if he sensed that things were shifting in his favor. "You wouldn't mind, then?"

"Of course I *mind*, Nick. I love you." Adam caressed the side of Jazz' face with his fingertips, much the way his father touched his stepmother. "I want you to be happy, and if this is what it takes…"

"Oh, Adam! I love you!" Jazz wrapped his arms around Adam and the two of them kissed fervently. As though their separation was imminent.

When he broke away finally, Adam regarded his lover with sad eyes. "Guess we better get you packed," he said huskily.

"Later." Jazz unsnapped Adam's jeans, the pop of the metal loud in the otherwise silent apartment. "Right now I want to make love. Make memories to take with me."

"It's just for the summer, right?" Adam asked, struggling not to betray his anxiety at the thought of losing Jazz, even for a few months.

"Yeah."

Adam kissed him again, winding his fingers through Jazz' long silky hair, pulling him closer and closer. "I wish I could go with you. But…I trust you, Nick. I trust you to be faithful…and I trust you to come back."

"I will," Jazz vowed, his green eyes somber.

"You'll call me? Whenever you can?"

"As much as I can afford, Adam."

"I'll write—"

"You don't even like writing thank you notes, Adam."

"I'll learn. I…need for us to stay connected, Nick. I'm sorry. I know I should be so much stronger than this—"

Jazz closed his eyes and buried his face against Adam's neck. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'll miss you, too."

"Hey," Adam said, trying in vain to hide a sniffle. "I guess you must be pretty good for them to pick you, huh?"

"You think so?"

"Uh huh. Did I mention the part about how much I love you?"

"A couple times, yeah. But don't stop."

"I won't. That's *my* job."

Jazz wanted to make love. Truly he did. But standing there being held in Adam's arms seemed every bit as satisfying as sex, and sometimes, just when he thought he couldn't possibly love Adam more, he did.