Spanakopita was one of his favorite meals, and the recipe had been handed down for generations in his family. He liked it because it had much less dough than in other versions he’d ordered in some of the local restaurants. In his opinion the filling was the best part. He slid it in the oven and turned to clean up before Nick arrived. If he didn’t keep busy, nerves would take over. He’d never invited another man to his apartment, the place he’d shared with Bryan. In the last two years, it had ceased to be a home and merely became the place where he slept and ate when he could be pulled away from the museum. Starting renovations hadn’t helped make the apartment feel like he was embarking on a new beginning. Maybe inviting people here would. Galen loaded the dishes in the sink and wiped down the cool slate counter. Out of all the rooms, the kitchen was his favorite, with its muted red walls and pale honey cabinets. This was the first room he’d made his own, and it was the room he spent the most time in when he bothered to come back at a decent hour.
