Open Seating (25 page)

“I’m not a control freak, babe. How in the heck would I know what you want to eat?”

“Thank you,” Seth said, touched by his response. Mark had always ordered for Seth, and it had bothered him for years, but eventually, like a lot of things in their union, he’d let it slide.

“I think I’ll have the prime rib dinner,” Bryce said. “How about you?”

“Since this is a French restaurant, I’m compelled to order coq au vin or cassoulet.”

“Order anything except snails. I’m not sure I can handle that,” Bryce confessed.

Seth lifted his eyebrows, recalling a certain scene in London. “I’m pretty sure you can sit and watch me slurping up some escargot, but don’t worry, I don’t like them.”

“Thank God. Who the fuck wants to eat a slug?”

“The French?”

Bryce grimaced.

“What are your plans for after-dinner entertainment?” Seth asked.

“I’m getting a huge chunk of protein so I’ll be up for anything you want,” Bryce said, leering over his wine goblet. “Literally.”

“You dog.”

“By the way,” Bryce said, leaning in and whispering, “where do you get off telling me you’re Mr. Vanilla? Clearly, you’re not.”

Seth’s eyes widened. “No?”

“That little trick you pulled with my nipples was not a vanilla move,” Bryce continued in a low voice. “At this rate, I can see us moving on to more interesting things.”

Seth couldn’t hide his delight upon hearing the compliment. Not in his wildest fantasies did he ever consider BDSM even in the mildest form. Now his hunky dinner mate was telling him otherwise. His entire body was thrumming with excitement.

“You sure know how to get a guy going.”

Bryce winked but didn’t say another word.

The waiter plated their first course, which was served in deep lion head bowls with tiny handles on the side. The french onion soup was piping hot, and the two small slices of bread on top were crusty with bubbly, molten cheese. It was a challenge to get the spoon from bowl to mouth without a long string of cheese dangling in between, but the soup was delicious and worth the aggravation.

The coq au vin was next, and Seth relished the subtle tastes of the wine-infused chicken, pork cubes, and vegetable stew. “How’s your prime rib?” he asked Bryce.

“Excellent.”

“Mine too.”

They finished the rest of their meal in silence and exclaimed in appreciation when their waiter placed the newly baked chocolate soufflé in the middle of the table. Timing was everything to serving this dish. Ideally, it had to be eaten the minute it came out of the oven to get the full benefit, and the synchronization between waiter and chef was critical. Tonight, everything went according to plan, and the warm, decadent dessert was devoured in record time.

Violins were playing in the background, a nice touch to an already fabulous meal. Over cups of coffee, Seth felt he had to say something to acknowledge Bryce’s effort.

“You continue to surprise me,” Seth said. “This dinner was perfect in every way. Thank you.”

Bryce beamed. “My pleasure.”

“I’d like to walk off some of these calories,” Seth said. “Are you in the mood?”

“Sure,” Bryce said. After signing the slip placed in front of him, he stood and helped Seth by pulling out his chair.

“I could get used to this,” Seth confessed.

Bryce offered his arm as they left the restaurant, and they took the elevator to the upper deck. The wind was blowing but not enough to send them back downstairs. They made a few leisurely laps around the ship, holding hands the entire time. It was almost ten in the evening when they decided to go inside and stop at the Churchill Lounge for a nightcap.

Seth felt Bryce stiffen as they walked in, and he followed his line of sight. Jeannie and Andrew Callahan were sitting in a booth and raised their hands in greeting.

“Shit,” Bryce said under his breath. “They are the last people I wanted to see tonight.”

“Why?” Seth asked curiously. “I thought you liked Jeannie.”

“I do, but she’s going to want to talk about the movie.”

Seth paused and considered his next move. Did he want to ruin the special evening by talking about Mark, or would he rather avoid the issue altogether? The decision was made for him when Andrew walked up to them and asked if they’d like to share their booth. He couldn’t think of a polite way to say no, so he nodded and followed Andrew, pulling a reluctant Bryce behind him.

Jeannie greeted him warmly, and after the waiter took their orders—a whiskey for Bryce and another red wine for Seth—she started in immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

“No need,” Seth said. “You had no idea how the film would affect me.”

“That’s true, but I wanted to offer some fresh input in case it helps you come to terms with your late partner’s decision.”

“It’s not necessary,” Seth said flatly. “I’d rather drop it if you don’t mind.”

“The thing is,” Jeannie continued, “I’m currently facing a health crisis so I’m coming to you from an entirely different perspective.”

“What do you mean?” Seth asked woodenly.

“Didn’t Bryce tell you?” Jeannie asked.

“You told me to keep it to myself,” Bryce reminded her. “It wasn’t my secret to share.”

“You’re right,” she acknowledged. “Thank you.”

“What’s the big secret?” Seth asked, although he already had a bad feeling and would have bolted if it weren’t so rude.

Jeannie reached for Andrew’s hand and took a deep breath. He meshed their fingers together and gave her an imperceptible nod, silently prompting her to go ahead.

“Right,” she said, turning back to Seth. “I’m also dying and I’ve decided to take my own life. This is why Andrew and I moved to Oregon. California still hadn’t passed the law allowing physician-assisted suicide when we made our decision. I thought I’d share this to help you find some closure. I’m not prepared to go through heroic measures to extend my life, and I’m certain your spouse felt the same way. You need to respect his choices.”

Seth could feel the blood draining out of him as surely as if Jeannie had pulled some kind of plug. There was a funny hissing in his ears, and he felt faint. He took a large gulp of his wine, hoping the feeling would pass. Bryce had placed a hand on his thigh and was squeezing him gently. Seth covered it with his own, needing Bryce’s strength.

Taking a deep breath, Seth asked, “Do you also have ALS?”

“No,” she replied. “I have a malignant brain tumor that is inoperable.”

“I’m sorry,” Seth said. “That must be very hard on your family.”

“Only Andrew knows the full extent of it.”

Seth looked at her in surprise. “Bryce told me you have three grown children and one grandchild.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to burden them.”

“That’s bullshit,” Seth said before he could filter the words. “How dare you take away their right to know!”

“It’s for their own good,” Jeannie protested. “I want them to think of me as healthy and self-sufficient, not some shriveled up gnome attached to machines. I can’t bear to let them see me that way.”

“So it’s your pride steering your path, not genuine love for your children,” Seth accused. “Do you honestly believe they would force you to suffer if you don’t have to? They’ll respect your decision, Jeannie, if they’re anything like you. What bothers me the most is that you’re robbing them of the opportunity to repay you for a lifetime of devotion. Being around to hold your hand, get you a glass of water, read you a story, and most importantly, to embrace you while you wait for the lethal meds to kick in are what you’re taking away by doing this on your own. That’s what I’m so angry about. Mark didn’t give me a choice. He decided for me.”

Seth couldn’t continue. He was too distraught, and hot tears were flowing down his cheeks. Bryce put his arm around Seth, shushing him gently. “Let it go, babe. This isn’t your fight.”

“I never thought of it from that angle,” Jeannie said, looking equally upset. “I assumed I was doing them a favor by leaving them out of the dirty business of dying.”

“You assumed wrong,” Seth said bitterly. “They will hate you once you pass.”

“Andrew?” Jeannie asked, turning to her husband. “Do you think he’s right?”

The poor guy couldn’t talk either. His lower lip wobbled, and his eyes were red-rimmed. All he could do was nod.

“Why didn’t you say anything before we sold the house?” Jeannie asked, looking confused.

Andrew sucked in a shuddering breath. “When have you ever listened to me?”

“Oh God,” Jeannie said, slumping against Andrew. “I’m going to have to rethink this.”

“We’ll leave you for now,” Bryce said. “It’s getting late, and we’re touring Liverpool tomorrow.”

They stood, and Jeannie looked up at Seth, who was still weepy. “I’m sorry for upsetting you, but I want to thank you for speaking your mind. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Seth nodded, turned, and walked out of the lounge.

TOURING EDINBURGH
Castle wasn’t for the weak-kneed or the infirm. Getting up the steep hill where the formidable stone edifice stood guard over the city was a challenge in itself. Tour buses and cars were only allowed up to a point, and anyone in a wheelchair would be hard-pressed to navigate the cobblestoned street or the treacherous sidewalks that dipped without warning. On the bright side, it was exactly what Seth needed to take his mind off Jeannie.

After his loss of control three days ago, he felt sick with remorse. What right did he have to get sanctimonious when he wasn’t the one staring death in the face? He didn’t necessarily regret the content of his speech, only the delivery. He was rude—merciless—in his choice of words and would try to make amends the next time he saw the couple. No one should have to face such painful decisions, and to have them questioned by a virtual stranger was inexcusable.

Surprisingly, they hadn’t bumped into the couple these last three days. There had been no sign of them during their stops in Liverpool, Belfast, or Glasgow, and due to land tours running late, Seth and Bryce had skipped the six o’clock seating, choosing to eat dinner on their own up at the Lido Deck or in a specialty restaurant. Seth wondered guiltily if Jeannie was avoiding them or if he’d triggered some kind of medical setback. Did she have a stroke after listening to his blistering tirade? God, he hoped not.

This morning, they’d arrived at the port of South Queensferry in Edinburgh, Scotland, at seven in the morning, and Seth insisted he and Bryce take the first tender to shore.

“Why so early?” Bryce grumbled.

“This is Scotland for Christ’s sake,” Seth said. “Most of my novels are set in this country, and I want to see as much as I can in ten hours.”

“You’ve never been here before?” Bryce asked, surprised. “How come your novels sound so authentic?”

“Have you never heard of research?”

Bryce slapped him lightly on the ass. “Shut up, smarty-pants.”

“Ooh, do that again,” Seth mock begged.

Bryce grabbed him in a headlock and growled, “Tonight, you horny bastard.”

Seth extricated himself from Bryce’s strong arms and pulled a windbreaker with a hood out of the closet. “You want me to grab your windbreaker?” Seth asked. “They say it always rains in Scotland.”

“Okay.”

After tendering to shore, a tour bus had driven them straight to the castle, and now, as they navigated the walk over ancient cobblestones, slippery from the light morning mist, Seth was happy that he and Bryce had worn their best walking shoes. The daily laps around the deck had increased his stamina, and not only was he able to keep up with the crowd, he was barely winded when he got to the castle’s courtyard.

They purchased audio guide tours so they could wander through the different exhibits on their own. Once again, Bryce was enthralled by the architecture while Seth was more interested in the history and the Crown Jewels. After spending almost three hours getting their fill of the historic fortress, they asked a stranger to take a photo of them with Bryce’s phone. Standing by the parapet overlooking the city of Edinburgh, Bryce put his arm around Seth, and they said
cheese
for the photographer on loan. The morning fog had cleared, and the view in the background was breathtaking.

The next stop was a tour of the Palace of Holyroodhouse, the official residence of the British monarch in Scotland. They were informed that the Queen took up residence one week out of the year, usually at the beginning of summer, to carry out official engagements and ceremonies. It was the only time of the year the palace was closed to the public. Summer had come and gone, and so had the Queen, so they were able to tour the palace leisurely.

“What’s the difference between a palace and a castle?” Seth asked their guide. He was an attractive Scot who appeared to be in his early fifties, dressed in a traditional kilt in his clan colors, which were fern green and taupe.

“They differ in the materials used for construction as well as design and purpose. In general, castles are built for defensive purposes, to guard a town from invaders, whereas palaces are built to showcase wealth and are used for entertaining. Castles are often built at the highest strategic point in the area with moats and towers to better guard against invaders. Their walls are usually made of stone and are impenetrable, whereas a palace is more likely built of less sturdy materials. The interiors are usually marble and trimmed in gold.” Their guide, Sean, pointed out the differences in his charming Scottish brogue, and Seth was enthralled. He took in every detail of the man from the top of his salt-and-pepper hair to the tip of his shiny black shoes, storing him in his memory bank for future reference. Seth’s novels were populated by magnetic and oftentimes sexy male leads, and Sean would fit right in.

“Should I be jealous of the guy in the skirt?” Bryce whispered in his ear.

“Only if you can read my mind.”

“I don’t have to, babe, you’re drooling,” Bryce teased.

“My motives are completely innocent. I’m studying him for research purposes.”

“I’ll make sure and use that line the next time I get caught staring at someone’s ass.”