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wouldn’t?” Lance leaned his
    tired head against Magnus’s shoulder. “And I bet he’ll be
    wide awake tomorrow morning after we put him to bed as
    early as we did. But he couldn’t keep his eyes open even a
    moment longer.”
    “So we better try and catch an early night as well,
    right?” Magnus smiled and bent down to press an all-too-
    brief kiss onto Lance’s lips.
    “Yes, please. My head is about to explode, and my eyes
    feel as though there’s sand in them. An early night is exactly
    what I need.” Lance realized that Magnus’s eyes were
    twinkling. “And I mean for sleeping, baby. I don’t think I
    have the energy to do much else. Not before tomorrow
    morning, at least.”
    “That’s okay, I don’t feel much different.” Magnus
    stepped back, and Lance regretted the loss of his warmth
    immediately.
    When they made it downstairs into the formal dining
    room, Mr. Carstens greeted them with a reluctant smile.
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    What was going on? He’d given Lance some strange glances
    over lunch as well, and Lance hadn’t felt comfortable at all.
    He suspected that Jakob’s presence had stopped the man
    from saying anything, but now that they were amongst
    adults, he hoped that whatever was bothering Magnus’s
    father would come out into the open. He only wished he were
    more awake to face this strange situation.
    “Would you like an aperitif?” Mr. Carstens wore a dark
    suit that would have looked more natural in a theatre or
    opera house than it did in the man’s own home.
    “No thanks, Father. I think we’re better off not having
    alcohol tonight. It’ll only interfere with our bodies
    readjusting to the new time zone.” Magnus pulled out a chair
    from under the massive mahogany table that had been set
    with what was clearly the best of everything, pointing at it for
    Lance to sit down.
    “Really, son, a little alcohol won’t hurt you. You’re a
    grown man who should be able to deal with it.” Mr. Carstens
    grimaced as though he’d been personally insulted.
    “I think it’s best if you leave that decision to me.”
    Magnus was beginning to sound annoyed, clearly not
    impressed with his father’s lack of understanding.
    Magnus sat down next to Lance, which made his father
    frown more intensely. Mr. Carstens snorted and turned
    toward what looked like a bar area in one of the corners of
    the room to pour himself a drink. What was wrong with the
    man? He expected them to do what he wanted rather than
    make their own decisions?
    Just then Mrs. Carstens walked into the room carrying
    a large soup tureen. The atmosphere became a little more
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    relaxed as they talked about their trip and the day’s events.
    It took Lance a while to get used to the somewhat unusual
    taste of the rosehip soup, but after a few spoons, he really
    started to like it.
    The main dish consisted of fish, potatoes, and a crisp,
    leafy salad. By the time Mrs. Carstens served dessert, Lance
    had been lulled into a sense of security. He wanted to believe
    that he’d misunderstood the earlier looks of disdain from
    Magnus’s father.
    “So….” Mr. Carstens loudly cleared his throat and
    stared at Lance. “I understand that you’re sharing a
    bedroom with my son despite the fact that my wife
    specifically asked you to pick another one. I have no idea
    what possessed you to do that, and I would like you to
    change it. Jakob is at an impressionable age, and I don’t
    want him to get the idea that it’s okay for two men to share a
    bedroom.”
    Lance’s mouth dropped open, and he was truly lost for
    words. Magnus stiffened next to him, and Mrs. Carstens
    sighed.
    “Enar, please. Not on their first night here.” She leaned
    back in her chair and suddenly looked very fragile.
    “If not now, when would you like me to bring it up?” Mr.
    Carstens narrowed his eyes, then turned back to Lance.
    “This ‘phase’ or whatever it is