Hazard and Somerset, Gregory Ashe [ebook reader with internet browser TXT] 📗

on the flight.”

“Gross coffee,” Hazard said.

Somers focused on making sure he had the boarding passes in order and that he didn’t say something he might regret.

“And we’re going to be crammed on this plane for three hours, shoulder to shoulder with some bozo who sells paperclips for a living, and he’ll want to talk about his stupid kids and their stupid video games.”

“Oh boy,” Somers said.

“And we didn’t get breakfast.”

“Hey,” Somers said as they made it to the agent waiting to scan their passes. “We’re together. We’re going somewhere fun. It’s going to be ok.”

“Tell me that again,” Hazard whispered, “when Phil tries to sell you a million paper clips.”

Then they were heading down the ramp, and they boarded the plane, and a smiling young Latina girl whose name tag said Maria showed them to their seats.

“No,” Hazard said. “This is wrong.”

“This is not wrong,” Somers said, stowing their carry-ons. “Could we get coffee? And mimosas? And Valium?”

“John, we do not fly first class.”

Somers slid into the window seat and tugged Hazard down next to him. Maria came back with coffee and mimosas.

“Fresh out of valium,” she said.

“This’ll be fine,” Somers said. “Thank you.”

“We can’t afford this,” Hazard said.

“It’s our honeymoon.”

“This is way too expensive.”

“Just five minutes, please,” Somers said, putting up a hand to block Hazard from sight. “Tell me again in five minutes.”

Four and a half minutes later, Hazard leaned over and whispered, “Um, John?”

Somers blew out a slow breath.

“This is really, really nice,” Hazard said.

After a moment, Somers leaned over and kissed him.

“I love you,” Hazard said.

“I love you too,” Somers said. “Now tell your candyboy he did a good job.”

II

OCTOBER 27

SUNDAY

11:02 AM

THE WHOLE FIRST DAY had been travel: the flight to Atlanta, the flight to St. Thomas, the ferry to Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands, and then the hotel shuttle to Cane Garden Bay. The next morning, though, it had all been worth it. Their hotel room had a perfect view of the bay: the shadows of palm trees dancing on white sand, Caribbean-blue waters, the tiny white tufts of sailboats already out against the horizon. They ate a breakfast of fresh fruit and croissants and good coffee. Hazard mentioned the importance of adding something more substantial, maybe a protein, maybe oatmeal, but when he heard Somers mutter oatmeal under his breath, he realized he might be crossing a line.

They changed into swim trunks, and of course, Somers had bought a pair that managed to be ridiculously revealing and trendy at the same time; Hazard had the navy blue ones he’d owned for ten years and that came to his knees.

“Let me check those out,” Hazard said, pinning Somers against the closet door and running his fingers down his husband’s chest, across the dark lines of ink and the hard muscle, tugging on the elastic of the skimpy trunks.

“Stop,” Somers said, laughing, and he slid away.

“It’s our honeymoon.”

“I want to get to the beach.”

“We’ll get there later.”

“Trust me, Mr. Hazard, if I let you get started, we’ll never make it to the beach. We’ll have mind-blowing sex, room service, TV, and more sex.”

“I think you just described the perfect honeymoon.”

“Beach,” Somers said. “Now.”

When they got down to the beach, they rented chairs and an umbrella, and they set themselves up with drinks at the palm-thatched bar: Hazard got a cold Corona, and Somers made an exception to his no-alcohol rule and insisted on trying the painkiller, a BVI specialty. The salt spray of the ocean mixed with the hops and malt of the beer, and the warmth of the sun was perfect.

“Ok,” Hazard said. “Before I fall asleep.” He dug a bottle of sunblock out of his backpack and passed it to Somers. “Get my back?”

Somers sat behind him. “SPF 100? Holy God, is this what astronauts use when they land on the sun?”

“Very funny.”

For a few minutes, Somers worked the sunblock into Hazard’s skin. “God, you have great shoulders.”

Hazard grunted.

“And arms.”

“If you’d go to the gym with me more often.”

“And your back. I’d kill for your back.”

“I like your back just the way it is,” Hazard said.

“And I like how pasty white you are,” Somers said, kissing the back of Hazard’s neck before he moved to his own chair.

Hazard finished applying the sunblock, and then he grabbed a second bottle from his backpack. “I figured you’d want SPF 30. Is that right?”

“I’m all right.”

“John, you’re going to burn.”

“I’ll be fine,” Somers said.

Hazard considered this; his husband always had that perfect golden hue to his skin. “But the latitude—”

“Ree, sweetheart, thank you. But I’m a thirty-five-year-old man. I will be fine.”

They swam. They drank. They ordered Caribbean-fusion nachos, which had plantains and mangos and a sofrito-inspired sauce, at the palm-thatched bar. Hazard read and reapplied sunblock. Somers played on his phone. And at some point, they fell asleep.

“God damn it,” was what woke Hazard up.

The sun had shifted while they slept, and it was coming in at an angle now; the umbrella offered no protection. When Hazard looked over, his husband was pink.

“John.”

“Please don’t rub it in.”

“Shit, come on.”

Hazard packed their stuff and helped Somers back to their room.

“It’s really not that bad,” Somers kept saying. “It just looks bad.”

“It’s going to get a lot fucking worse. That’s what sunburn does.”

“Ree!”

That, Hazard realized, meant he probably should have kept the commentary to himself.

He turned the shower to cold, got Somers some Tylenol, and waited.

When Somers screamed and started swearing, Hazard shouted into the bathroom, “Don’t use soap.”

“Now you tell me!”

Five minutes later, Somers emerged totally nude, dripping wet.

“The towel hurt too much,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “I don’t think the Tylenol’s helping.”

“It’s helping,” Hazard said. “The burn is just getting worse. Come stand over here.”

Somers moved like a stick man, trying not to bend his arms and legs. The whole effect would have been funny if he weren’t bright pink.

“Christ, I am so fucking stupid,” Somers said.

Hazard shushed him. He got out the bottle of aloe and lidocaine, squirted some in his