Page 33

Spencer stood on the slightly snowy lawn of the Brown Street house, one set of keys in his hand, the other in his pocket. It looked like a house now, one that stood up straight and wasn’t sinking into the ground. He heard Ian’s car pull up to the curb and Ian step out and around to meet him.

“Spencer, this looks great.”

Ian wrapped his arm around Spencer’s waist and kissed his temple.

“You really haven’t even driven by?”

“Surprisingly, when I’m in Pittsfield, I tend to be a bit preoccupied.”

Spencer had never seen Ian smile like he was smiling right then.

“Well, do you want to go inside?”

There wasn’t a ton to look at outside beyond the obvious new siding and roof. In the spring, Spencer would call in a landscaper and replace the front lawn with native ground cover.

“Lead the way.”

Spencer walked up the steps to the porch, which no longer sagged or slanted, then unlocked the refinished front door. On impulse, he stowed his boots against the wall in the entryway. He’d never done that before during a client walk-through. But this wasn’t just a house—it was Ian’s home, and he wanted to treat it that way.

Ian came in behind him and took his own boots off. “Sweetheart . . .”

When Spencer turned, he hadn’t expected to see Ian’s mouth hanging open in awe.

“Spencer, this is so beautiful.”

Ian had asked him to furnish the space, not to be period accurate, but to complement what Cat had done with the renovation. He’d chosen a sofa and chairs for the living room that played off the jewel-toned stained glass and a vintage rug he’d imagined would feel nice under bare feet in the summer. The rich gray-blue color of the walls tied the whole first floor together, making everything feel cozy and warm.

“Can I . . . ?”

“Please. It’s yours.”

Spencer motioned into the house, and Ian made his way across the newly refinished floors to run his hand over the dining table Spencer had found at an antique store in Lenox.

“My mom would have loved this.”

“I’m glad.”

Spencer came up behind him, his hands in his pockets. He wanted to wrap Ian up in his arms, support him through whatever this feeling was, but he knew this was something Ian had to do himself. “Did you want to see the kitchen?”

“Show me.”

Ian took his hand and let Spencer lead him through the cased opening.

“You’ll recognize the very sexy L-shaped layout you chose.”

Ian squeezed his hand once but just kept listening. “The soapstone counters we picked out with Rae. And the farmhouse table you wanted.”

Ian walked around the island, running his hands over the marble. He seemed to want to memorize the whole house by touch.

“No more trips to the haunted basement.”

Spencer pointed through the open bathroom door to the stacked washer dryer.

Ian smiled, a lot like he’d smiled the first time they’d been together in the house, a small one just for Spencer. “I don’t know. I might be coming around to the basement.”

“Well, you should have said something before now because we absolutely didn’t finish it.”

Ian made his way back over to Spencer and kissed him. “This is so much better than I ever could have imagined.”

Spencer tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “You haven’t even seen it all yet.”

“I can’t imagine I’ll be unimpressed with the rest of it, but take me upstairs.”

“Mark made this banister to match the old one.”

Spencer ran his hand over the railing on his way up the stairs. He pointed to the gleaming white bathroom. “Hex tile to keep the original feel.”

Ian stuck his head in for a cursory glance. Apparently his nostalgia didn’t extend to the bathroom.

“I furnished all four bedrooms as guest rooms, like you asked, but if you wanted one to be an office or something else, we could switch stuff out.”

Each guest room had a queen-size bed and two nightstands, all eclectically sourced from local estate sales and flea markets. Since they all had closets, he’d opted to forgo dressers.

“It feels so lived in.”

“Well, you said you didn’t want it to be empty.”

“It’s perfect.”

Ian was smiling again, his private, contented smile.

“Come see the attic.”

This was the space Spencer was most excited about.

When he’d first designed it, it had been a generic idea of a brand-new space in an otherwise very defined home.

But once he got to decorating it, it had become incredibly personal.

Now he knew Ian, and as he’d been decorating, he’d imagined the way he’d described his apartment as just a place he slept.

Spencer wanted this to be something better than that, something that felt good.

He’d picked the biggest, comfiest bed he could find and covered it in soft, pillowy linens.

He’d installed blackout curtains so the eastern light wouldn’t bother Ian in the mornings.

He knew Ian would never care about individual pieces of furniture, but he wanted him to feel like this was his, a space made specifically for him.

Spencer stepped into the room so that Ian could follow.

He didn’t expect Ian to freeze in the doorway just like he had the first time they’d been up there.

“Spencer . . .”

He wasn’t exactly sure what Ian meant by his tone, but he felt the need to explain himself. “The rest of the house is an homage to all the lives it’s lived before. I wanted this to be just for you.”

Ian’s eyes looked particularly wet in the morning light coming through the dormer window. “Do you remember what you said to me the first time we were up here?”

“About this being a good space for a primary suite?”

Ian crossed the room and took Spencer’s hand in his. “You were standing right here talking about east-facing windows, and all I could think about was how beautiful you looked. Like that ray of sunshine was directed specifically at you.”

Spencer blinked up at him. “Is that why you were staring at me? I thought I was stressing you out.”

“I was incredibly stressed out. This house was a massive weight on me, and you made it all seem so easy.”

“Never, ever say that out loud in front of Cat.”

Ian laughed and shook his head. “When I went to your apartment that first time and saw your drawings, all I could think about was getting you a desk to put right here, so you could have all the light you want.”

“Ian . . .”

Ian kissed him sweetly. “Spencer, I want you to live here with me. This place is a home because of you. I want it to be my home with you in it. I want you to have a desk right here. Or literally anywhere else you want. I assume everything is already to your taste because you picked all of it, but if there’s anything you need to make you happy here, we’ll get it.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his lungs. “Ian, you just spent all your money making a house for you.”

Ian shook his head slightly and huffed out a laugh like Spencer was missing the point. “Technically, it was my parents’ money. And yes, it’s a house for me, but you made it. And I want to share it with you.”

He scrunched his brow like something had suddenly occurred to him. “I know it doesn’t have a yard for Norman—”

“Norman doesn’t have a yard right now, and he’s perfectly fine. Though I’ll be turning the front bedroom into my studio because this bedroom is for sleeping. And fucking, obviously.”

Ian was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Spencer took Ian’s face in his hands and pulled him down to kiss him gently. He kind of wanted to throw him down onto the bed and never leave, but there would be time for that later, and he had a walk-through to finish.

Ian, however, didn’t seem to want to let go. “I thought maybe instead of renting out your apartment, you could keep it as the office you and Cat want. And since there’s already a bed there, we can maybe have that be the place we take dates, so the house can just be for us.”

“You have incredibly good ideas.”

Spencer wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck, and they stood there kissing in the front window until Spencer lost track of time. “Do you want to see the bathroom?”

Ian huffed out a laugh, wearing a smile Spencer was pretty sure had nothing to do with the bathroom. “Sure.”

They had to walk back around the bed to get to the bathroom, and on their way past, Ian’s eyes seemed to land on something on the bedside table. “Spencer, is that a framed nude of me?”

Spencer had finished the drawing of Ian he’d started that morning all those months ago and figured this would be better than just giving Ian the piece of paper. “I told you the model always gets to keep the drawing.”

Ian bit his bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “And you thought I’d want a naked illustration of myself in my bedroom? To bolster my self-esteem?”

“Well.”

Spencer pulled Ian in by his impossibly soft sweater and kissed him. “That can be my side of the bed.”

He’d be more than happy to wake up to multiple nude illustrations of Ian every morning.

They finally made their way to the bathroom. The back half of the room was covered in white subway tile, and a showerhead came down from the ceiling so Ian wouldn’t have to crouch under a wall-height fixture. There was a claw-foot tub against the wall under the slantiest part of the ceiling. The toilet was on the other side of the room, along with two sinks, one of which Spencer supposed was about to be his.

“Thank you for this.”

Ian squeezed his hand.

“You did pay me.”

Spencer thought it was only fair to remind him.

“I know. But it’s more than that.”

“I know.”

Spencer led Ian back downstairs and out to the front lawn, staring up at the house like he had the first time he’d been there. He dug in his pocket for the two sets of keys Ian had given him that night he’d shown up in his sweats.

“Well, at this point, I usually give these back. You have keys to the basement door now, by the way.”

He pressed both sets into Ian’s outstretched hand.

“How about this time you keep one?”

Ian handed it back.

Spencer smiled, tucking them back into his pocket. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Ian slipped his hand into Spencer’s. “I thought maybe we could walk back to your place and pick up Norman to show him the house.”

Spencer laughed and shook his head. Ian was such a sucker for that dog. “We can do that.”

They started walking, and Ian got that scrunched-up look on his face that he did when he didn’t want to upset Norman. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Spencer squeezed his hand. “Yeah, baby, I think he will.”