Page 89 of Familiar Things New

Melancholic sympathy twisted in Edwin’s chest. “Will, that’s horrible.”

“Doesn’t it sound sensible, though? Amelia isn’t thrilled about the prospect of marrying me. But her parents like the idea. And she also feels like she should get married soon. So, see, this way, with me marrying her, everyone will be . . . well, not happy. None of us will be happy. But there’s a possibility that Agnes could find happiness someday. And Amelia and I, we’ll have . . . I’m not sure what we’ll have. Consistency, maybe. Security. Consolidation of wealth. All of those kinds of things.”

“But you’d be miserable,” Edwin said.

William shrugged. His eyes fell to the floor.

“You’d be miserable,” Edwin repeated slowly, his heart clenching. “But maybe someday Agnes wouldn’t be.”

“Exactly.”

William’s confession hung between them for a while. Edwin could hardly believe what he had heard. Not regarding William’s lack of interest in intercourse, though he hadn’t ever considered that some people might not want to have it, even with a spouse of their choosing, but that William thought Agnes wouldn’t want him because of it. William obviously hadn’t asked Agnes for her opinion. How could he know for certain how she felt? Agnes had been absolutely smitten with William for years now. She liked him for his charm, his wit, hell, even his conceit. And, yes, perhaps for some women, having a husband who wasn’t interested in intercourse, especially if they married for love, might make their marriage feel unfulfilling, but it might not be like that for Agnes.

“Why not talk to her?” Edwin finally asked.

“I can’t talk to her about this. It would be ludicrously inappropriate.”

“Oh, yes, because you’re the picture of propriety,” Edwin said with a roll of his eyes.

William huffed. “Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me? Jesus Christ, Edwin, I’m struggling to talk to you about it, and you’re my closest friend, not to mention a man. I can’t walk up to Agnes, throw decency out the window, and say ‘I’d like to marry you, Agnes. In fact, I’d love to marry you. Because I love you. I love you and I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out. But we probably won’t ever consummate our marriage. And even though I think you’re beautiful, I’d still prefer it if we never even attempted to have intercourse. Anyway, I hope that’s not so wildly insulting to hear that it makes you want to slap me. Oh, it does? All right, that’s fair. You can hit me, and then I’ll be on my way, out of your life forever. I hope you find a husband soon. One who will want to stick his cock in you.’” He ran a hand over his face. “Edwin, can you imagine how that conversation would go?”

“Well, you wouldn’t say it like that. You’re obviously trying to be funny.”

“Does it matter, though? Regardless of how I say it, the message is the same.” William’s eyes became filled with so much pain, so much sorrow, that Edwin also started to tear up a little. “I love her, Edwin. I love her, and I want her to be happy.”

“And she loves you, too, Will. I know she does.”

“But maybe if I tell her about this, then she won’t love me. Not anymore.”

“I think she will,” Edwin said, making his voice as warm and as comforting as he possibly could. “And I think it’s worth telling her the truth, regardless. Give Agnes the chance to make her own choices about her future. Don’t make them for her.”

William pursed his lips while he thought it over.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Perhaps she and I can . . . navigate this somehow, as long as she’s not completely repulsed by me once I tell her the truth about the way that I am. It’s not as though I wouldn’t want some things with her. I like the thought of holding her. Kissing her. Sleeping next to her. I’d still be affectionate with her. And, like I said, I enjoy the thought of her finding pleasure. I think I might even like helping her. Maybe I can—”

Quickly, Edwin pressed a palm to William’s mouth, silencing him.

“Agnes is my sister, and I will not let you finish that sentence,” Edwin scolded.

William chuckled behind Edwin’s palm and then stuck his tongue out, poking Edwin’s fingers with it. Edwin recoiled.

“Ugh! What is wrong with you? You’re disgusting!”

“I know,” William said with a grin. “But you like me anyway.”

Edwin forced a frown. “I tolerate you.”

Letting out a cry of mock anguish, William placed a hand over his heart. “Such hurtful words.”

Edwin shoved him sideways. “You’re ridiculous.”

William laughed some more, and Edwin couldn’t fight back a smile, either. God, he’d missed this. He’d missed his best friend. And he was so happy that William had found the courage to be honest with him.

“So,” William said, bumping Edwin with his knee, “how are things between you and Andrew?”

Edwin groaned. “Horrible.”

“Oh.” William’s forehead creased with concern. “Why?”