Page 2 of For the Rest of Forever

“I’ll let Beans out in the back and then open the garage door,” Allen suggested, unbuckling his seat belt. “Shouldn’t take us too long to unload—”

“I’ll handle it tonight, darling,” Greg cut in. Normally they would work together to unload all of Greg’s prints and equipment, and it would only take them about fifteen minutes or so. But he’d seen Allen’s exhaustion earlier, and tonight, it just didn’t feel right to ask more of his husband.

Allen looked poised to argue, his eyes narrowed slightly as he seemed to study Greg. His expression tightened before he nodded in agreement. “Okay, but you’ll come straight to bed, right? No...getting distracted by something in your studio or sitting down at your computer to edit some of those photos you took Thursday night or—or anything?”

“Of course,” Greg promised, though his stomach clenched at the immediate relief he saw in his husband’s eyes.

“Good.” Allen smiled, and then, as though he could tell the direction of Greg’s thoughts and wanted to redirect him, Allen leaned in until his lips were just about half an inch from Greg’s. “Because I want to cuddle with you tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

The familiar tug of desire made Greg groan, and he reached up to cup Allen’s cheek, then closed the rest of the distance between them so their lips met. It was a deeper kiss than the quick, light ones they’d shared earlier, and when Allen’s hand settled high on Greg’s thigh, he groaned again and pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Give me a minute to put Beans out back,” Allen said, slightly breathless himself, and Greg just nodded. Allen’s hand then left his thigh, and Greg leaned his head back against the headrest for a moment as he listened to Allen open the door and exit the SUV.

When the passenger door shut, he opened his eyes and watched his husband tread stiffly up the driveway and along the front walkway and then disappear into the house a moment later. He sat there for just another minute or two, tracking Allen’s path through the house as windows lit up one by one. Muffled barking, followed by the sound of the back door opening and closing called him to action, and Greg blinked to reset himself and put the SUV back into drive. He pulled forward a bit and then expertly backed the trailer up into the driveway, stopping with the rear of the trailer only a foot or so from the garage door just as it began to rise.

By the time he parked and hopped out, Allen was at the back of the trailer, unlocking it and starting to open up the rear doors. Greg almost laughed, almost made some teasing comment aboutAllen being a stubborn old man. But when he saw his husband’s tired eyes, he just shook his head.

“You go rest. Please,” he said, setting his hand lightly over Allen’s on the handle. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Despite Allen’s obvious exhaustion, Greg still expected pushback. Theyalwaysdid this part together, after all. So he was quite surprised when Allen just nodded.

“Okay, okay. I’ll text Joe and let him know we’re home so he doesn’t come over to check on Beanie in the morning. And you’ll be up soon?”

“I promise,” Greg said, and he leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss on Allen’s cheek.

The next half hour or so went by slowly as Greg unpacked the trailer, putting everything away carefully and setting aside the pieces that had sold so he could pack them up to ship or deliver them the following week. All the while, he heard noises from the house—Allen’s voice calling their dog, Beans, in from the backyard; some noises from the kitchen; then the creaking overhead from their second-floor bedroom and telltale sounds of the shower turning on and then off a little bit later.

By the time he was all finished and the trailer was parked back in its spot along the side of the house, it was well after eleven, and the house had been quiet for some time. He shut the garage door behind himself and glanced at his small studio. His eyes were immediately drawn to his camera case, which he’d set in its place on his desk.

The sunset Thursday evening. That was what he’d photographed when they’d arrived in Friday Harbor. There had been just enough wisps of clouds in the sky, tinted orange and pink, and the light had reflected off the water. It was a view he’d seen often enough, but for whatever reason, on Thursday evening, it had held some sort of enchantment to it, and he hadn’t been able to resist.

Just like he couldn’t quite resist now. A quick look, just two minutes. Just to remind him of the beauty. Then he’d edit the photos tomorrow.

He stepped over to his desk, but as he reached out for the camera case, his eyes drifted to the framed photo sitting next to his computer, and his hand paused. Allen’s kind gray-blue eyes smiled back at him, and Greg inhaled sharply.

“My love,” he whispered, and he reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of the frame. It was really nothing fancy—just a selfie of the two of them at the top of Shriner Peak in Mount Rainier National Park. He’d taken it with his cell phone nearly three years ago. The view behind them wasn’t even great—fog and clouds obstructed what should have been a phenomenal view of Mount Rainier itself off in the distance. But in all of the more than thirty years he’d been hiking and photographing people and places and landscapes, it was his favorite photo.

His arm was looped loosely around Allen’s shoulders, and his head was tilted sideways just enough so it touched Allen’s. Allen’s smile was bright and carefree.

Greg’s heart stuttered, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he blew out a short breath, turned, and headed inside, flipping off the light switch behind him.

The photos would wait until morning.

Chapter Two

Allen

“Go on now,” Allensaid, shooing Beans off the bed for the third time. The little brown terrier almost seemed to grumble, but he jumped down and plodded over to his bed in the corner of the room. Allen shook his head. “Every night it’s the same thing.”

Beans curled up and rested his head on his paws, then looked up at Allen with what Allen could only interpret as a sad, soulful look.

Allen sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. You know the rules.”

The dog’s eyes closed, and Allen settled back on the bed again, letting his body relax into the soft mattress.

He was tired. And that was an understatement, really. If not for the short nap he’d gotten on the drive home from Anacortes, he might already be asleep. If he had to guess, he’d say his current state of exhaustion was probably because Thursday night had been less than restful for him. It had been one ofthosenights, his sleepplagued by bad dreams that had left him more than anxious when he’d woken up and unable to relax and fall asleep again.

It was silly. Silly and frustrating, actually. He’d handled lack of sleep a lot better when he was in his teens and twenties and even in his thirties. But now that he was in his mid-fifties—having just turned fifty-four earlier this year—the restless nights seemed to hit him much harder.

---