Open Seating

By Mickie B. Ashling

Seth Wilder lost his partner of twenty years to suicide two weeks before a long-anticipated cruise. Cancellation insurance was never purchased, and Seth can’t get a refund. Bryce McFarland, his late partner’s gym buddy, appreciates his predicament, and when asked, agrees to accompany him on the trip. This way, Seth recoups the money and doesn’t have to cancel his plans. The gesture is unexpected but accepted gratefully.

The two men have nothing in common. Seth is a reclusive romance writer, and Bryce is a hard-core Grindr user with major commitment issues. Out of necessity and despite the seemingly insurmountable differences in personality, they develop a tentative rapport. As they begin their journey through the UK, Bryce helps Seth come to terms with his partner’s sudden death while Seth, in turn, discovers the root cause of Bryce’s phobia.

Shipboard romances rarely work. Sensible men resist, sexual tension notwithstanding. But a full moon and late summer breezes lend themselves to the impossible situation, barriers are crossed, and a love affair is kindled.

This novel is dedicated to my dearest friend, Jeannie, who is every bit as fierce, intelligent, and open-minded as the character in this novel. Thank you for coming along on this incredible journey with me. Your loyalty and unwavering support have made it possible to achieve so much in the last nine years.

I’D LIKE
to thank my beta readers, the entire Dreamspinner Press editing team, especially Erika Orrick, my senior editor, and Catt Ford, for my beautiful cover art.

SETH CHECKED
his watch for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. Bryce was late, and although he’d anticipated some tardiness—not everyone was chronically early—the recurring fear that one more thing would derail this plan was making Seth perspire profusely. He would be mortified if he ended up with two big wet spots underneath the sleeves of his new Faҫonnable shirt, one of six Mark had insisted he buy when Nordstrom had their last big sale. It was an extravagance, to be sure, but neither of them had splurged in a while, and a three-week trip exploring the British Isles to celebrate twenty years of partnered bliss was as good an excuse as any to splurge.

Just thinking about his late partner made Seth’s stomach clench, and he pulled out the roll of Tums he carried in his pocket, popped one out, and crunched it mindlessly. The relief was almost immediate, and taking one last look at his watch, he ran up the stairs to the master bathroom. He reached for a washcloth and held it underneath some running water, squeezed it out, swiftly pulled his tucked shirt out of his waistband, and sopped up his pits. Then Seth grabbed the stick of deodorant he’d left on the counter earlier and swiped it around the offending sweat glands, hoping it would work this time. Maybe Bryce could recommend something different. Seth had been using the same brand of deodorant for years and realized there were probably twenty new and improved versions he’d ignored in favor of the tried and true.

He rinsed the washcloth, hung it, and tucked his shirt back into his distressed jeans, another new purchase he’d allowed for Mark’s sake. He lifted his arms and was happy to see that the pink cotton shirt was bone-dry. At least he’d been able to save
this
potential disaster.

Back in the bedroom, his gaze veered toward Mark’s bed. It had been stripped, waiting to be picked up by Goodwill, but between one thing and another, Seth had run out of time and rescheduled the pickup for when he returned from his vacation. The room would look a lot bigger once they removed the second queen bed, which had been bought in an act of desperation last year. Mark’s tossing and turning had gone completely off the rails and kept Seth from a sound sleep. He couldn’t function on less than seven hours a night, and it had become more and more difficult as his partner’s insomnia grew worse.

Bittersweet memories of days long gone when they’d fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms and actually stayed that way throughout the night perforated the shaky walls he’d erected around his heart in the days following Mark’s death. He clenched his teeth and blinked back the tears that were close to the surface. It was too soon to go back in time and relive the good old days. His job was to move forward, get through the next three weeks without falling apart, and more importantly, try to stop blaming himself.

A horn blared, causing him to start in surprise. He raced down the stairs, set the alarm, picked up his two suitcases, and walked out his front door. After double locking, he turned to see the limo driver standing by the open trunk, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette instead of rushing up to take the luggage. Seth murmured an expletive but continued down the pathway. When he got to the limo, he waited and was relieved the driver finally got a clue, stubbing out his cigarette on the sidewalk and placing the two suitcases in the trunk.

“Thank you,” Seth said automatically.

“You’re welcome, sir.” The driver didn’t even bother opening the door for Seth and went straight to his side and got in.

Shaking his head, Seth opened his own door and slid inside.

“Hey,” Bryce said, looking a little frazzled.

“You’re late,” Seth said stonily.

“Don’t start,” Bryce said. “I had shit to finish up at the office. We have plenty of time to get to the airport.”

“You know how I am about punctuality.”

Bryce took his eyes off his iPad for a second. “Really, Seth? We haven’t left town yet and you’re already busting my balls.”

Seth couldn’t help noticing that Bryce was smiling, amused by his neurosis instead of being sympathetic. The beautiful ocean blue eyes, fringed in sooty black eyelashes, were practically sparkling with mirth. The guy was sickeningly handsome, and Seth wanted to slap him for some reason. Mark would never torture him by being late. It just wasn’t fair.

“Stop making fun of me,” Seth snapped.

“Chillax,” Bryce warned. “You promised to give me space if I agreed to come along on this trip.”

“I did, but it didn’t include a personality change. I’ll never be as easygoing as you.”

“You should really make an effort to lose that stick up your ass.”

“What stick?” Seth said in outrage. “I want to make sure we get to our destination on time. What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, man,” Bryce said. “You should hear yourself sometimes.”

“Why?” Seth asked. “Am I getting on your nerves?”

Bryce sighed and put down his iPad. “You’re not getting on my nerves, but you will eventually if you don’t make an effort to loosen up a little bit. I can guarantee you’ll get laid a lot more on this trip if you smile instead of snarl whenever something doesn’t go your way.”

“I don’t want to get laid,” Seth said angrily. “How dare you suggest it? My poor Mark hasn’t been gone two weeks and already you’re trying to hook me up. You’re disgusting.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you fuck someone tomorrow, Seth. But….”

“But what?”

“We’re going to be away for three whole weeks. There’s a ton of guys out there who’d love to show you the merry old side of England.”

“What I do or don’t do to relieve tension is none of your business.”

“Tension?” Bryce asked, trying to suppress a chuckle. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seth replied primly. “Not all of us are ruled by our cocks.”

“You should pay more attention to yours before it shrivels up and falls off,” Bryce suggested before turning his attention back to his iPad.

Seth was appalled at the direction their conversation had taken. He’d never been one to talk about his sex life, especially now that Mark wasn’t around. It would be like defiling a grave or something. Did Bryce have no sense of decency whatsoever? How could Seth have ever thought to bring him on this trip?

He should have just accepted defeat after the cruise line informed him there would be no refund regardless of the circumstances. Mark hadn’t spent the extra money to take out a cancellation protection plan and the penalties increased the closer they got to departure. Hoping to receive any money back two weeks prior to sailing was futile. The best the cruise liner could do was accept someone else in Mark’s place, and perhaps the new guest might be willing to refund Seth the money his partner had spent for his portion of the voyage.

After mentioning the problem to his psychiatrist, a new addition in Seth’s life thanks to recent events, he’d been encouraged to ask a friend or family member. There was no one in Seth’s immediate family, as he was an only child. Besides, even if he had siblings or a best friend, who in their right mind would be interested in becoming a wailing wall for the next three weeks? There was no doubt in Seth’s mind that they’d be dealing with dark moods and copious weeping. On impulse, he’d asked Bryce McFarland, who was Mark’s gym buddy since way back. Seth had been introduced to him years ago, but they’d rarely socialized. Bryce was successfully self-employed and could easily afford to reimburse the five thousand dollars Seth would never see again if he opted to go alone. To his way of thinking, having a stranger along might keep the melodrama at bay. What he hadn’t taken into account was personalities. They were both forty-seven but radically opposite in every way that counted.

Years ago, Mark had mentioned that Bryce was a typical serial dater with commitment issues. He rarely went out with the same guy twice, and anyone over the age of thirty-five didn’t merit a second glance. Bryce liked them young, dumb, and slutty. He was also charming, well-educated, and gorgeous, a winning combination that fueled his addiction to meaningless encounters. Had Bryce changed at all, or was he stuck in the same place?

Seth, on the other hand, believed in true love and had planned to spend the rest of his life with Mark until fate and a bottle of sleeping pills had burst his bubble. He had a hard time accepting it was over, and so abruptly. Eight months ago they were on top of the world, planning the three-week cruise they’d spent years saving up for. Seth had been banking royalty checks from his successful career as a novelist while living off Mark’s pharmacist’s paycheck for daily expenses. It had taken longer than they’d expected to accumulate the cash, but they’d vowed to pay for their trip without using credit cards, and that’s what they’d done.

Until the depression started. It had been insidious at first, and Seth hadn’t noticed the changes in his partner until they were glaringly apparent. The weight loss, apathy, and insomnia were only a few of the symptoms he’d ignored. Mark was pulling long hours at the pharmacy to bank the overtime money so they had enough to splurge on shopping while on vacation, and Seth didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary whenever Mark was late. It had been part of their plan, after all, and there was no reason to believe something was wrong.

He should have paid more attention when Mark wouldn’t even look at the land tours being offered by the cruise ship.
You pick them, Seth. I know you’ll do it right.

And he did. Perusing the Internet each evening to get a feel for locations and weighing cost vs. gain as some of the tours bordered on the outrageous. He hadn’t noticed Mark dropping items in the kitchen because his nose had been buried in a manuscript or his eyes were glued to his computer screen. Writing was his life, and he’d been doing the same thing for years. How was he to know that his partner was in crisis and so out-of-whack physically he could barely cross the room without stumbling?

He’d taken Mark’s suicide as a personal failure despite the heartfelt good-bye note. As a pharmacist, Mark had access to drugs, and it was a simple matter for him to swipe a few here and there to accumulate enough to give himself the lethal dose. He’d always been a proponent of assisted suicides, whereas Seth had emphatically opposed the idea. If Mark had bothered to share what was going on, Seth might have reconsidered his stance and conceded that dying by one’s own hand was preferable to hanging on and losing all dignity a day at a time.

I thought we could make this final trip, Seth. Leaving you with a bunch of amazing memories to fall back on was my first choice, but my legs have been giving out. There’s no way I could have gone on the land tours without a wheelchair, and I would rather die than spoil your vacation. I can hear you scolding me for opting out like this, but you have to know that I honestly felt this disease would hold off until we got back from Europe. Unfortunately, I seem to have the virulent variety of ALS, the one that crawls into your space like a horde of locusts, leaving nothing but destruction behind. If you’re not familiar with this fucking disease, google Lou Gehrig and read all about it. There’s no cure and I can’t face it for another second. I’m not getting into a heated argument with you over the pros and cons of taking matters into my own hands. You know how I feel on this issue. I know you’d never condone it. Please forgive me. You’re the love of my life, and we’ve been blessed with twenty wonderful years. Not too many people can say as much. I’ve taken care of all the legalities, signed the proper papers, so you’ll be okay. The house is solely in your name, and no one can take it away from you (unless you forget to pay the taxes!). I feel better knowing you’ll always have a roof over your head even if your next book tanks (which it won’t!). We worked too hard for everything we have. This was the best choice for me, and once you’ve gotten over the shock and anger, you’ll admit I was right. I love you, always and forever.