The Wish (17 page)

Byron found his answer in Alex’s hastily scribbled letter.

Dear Uncle Alfred,

I’m sorry I doubted your judgment and Paul’s character. Even though it’s a bit soon after Byron’s death, I know his illness was long and drawn out, possibly allowing you time to reconcile yourself with his passing. Paul seems to be a decent person who truly loves you. I think perhaps it is him you should entrust with the running of your estate, not me. I’ve finally seen the light and realize I need to stop being a fifth wheel and let the two of you have some privacy. You’ve got my cell number, and I’m only a phone call away.

With your permission, I plan to sell my condo in Houston and find a place closer to you, something I should have done long ago. As far as Paul goes, you have my blessing.

Love,

Alex

Alex neatly folded the paper and tucked the letter into his shirt pocket.

Oh no! Alfred often accused Byron of going overboard on occasion, and it seemed he’d certainly done it this time. His scheming had backfired, and now Alex planned to do the one thing Byron had thought the man incapable of—be noble.

12

I’
M
A
coward
, Alex told himself for the tenth time, or maybe eleventh.

After spending a sleepless night in one of the city’s premier hotels, battling his conscience, he found himself no closer to a solution to his problems than before. Alfred deserved better than a hastily written note and a stealthy departure in the middle of the night. He saw no other way but to face his uncle, and the sooner the better. However, due to his Alfred’s delicate health, he’d have to be careful when and how much to confess. He took his frustrations out on the note he’d written, tearing the paper into tiny pieces before dropping them into a trash can.

A hot shower worked wonders for his headache and fatigue, leaving him cautiously optimistic about his upcoming conversation by the time he’d dressed. What a great relief the procedure had been a success, even if it did drive home the point that both he and Paul were needed to help Alfred recover from the double blow of losing a partner and treating a failing heart. Alex vowed that, for the first time since his mother’s illness, he’d put others’ needs before his own.

The room service breakfast was palatable, if lonesome, accustomed as he was to company and conversation with his morning coffee and eggs.
If you get a condo….
Alex sighed, realizing freedom came with the price of solitude, something he’d valued only a few short weeks ago. Now, the thought of living alone, dining alone, sleeping alone, seemed so… lonely. A vision of Paul curled up on his bed crept into his mind. He slammed the door on the memory. No need to fantasize about what he couldn’t have and shouldn’t want.

With hospital visiting hours still an hour away, but tired of pacing in his hotel room, Alex drove to Mercy General to browse through the gift shop in search of a suitable present. Judging by the well-kept gardens behind the house, his uncle liked flowers. He perused the shop’s display of cut arrangements, at a loss for what to buy.
Paul would know.

Yes, Paul would know, like he knew Alfred’s favorite meal or which magazines to pack. Alex sighed and selected carnations, trusting the clerk’s advice that the arrangement was their best seller while pointedly ignoring the buxom redhead’s blatant flirting. He’d come to visit a sick loved one and still found himself being hit on. Biting back an angry retort, he paid for his purchase with a platinum card, earning another thinly veiled come-on, and hastily departed before tossing manners to the winds and repaying rudeness with rudeness.

He soon remembered flattery and flirtation did have their place in the great scheme of things, artfully employing both to charm his way into his uncle’s room thirty minutes early. Alfred answered his knock with a raspy, “Come in,” and he entered the dimly lit room to find his uncle awake and smiling.

“Alex!” Alfred cried happily. “You’re early. I hadn’t expected to see you until later.”

“I couldn’t wait. How are you doing today?” Alex eased farther into the room, placing the flowers on an already laden cart, crowded with gladiolas in various pastel hues. His hastily chosen bouquet of yellow carnations appeared as out of place as he’d felt the night before, seated at the dining room table and listening to the others’ shared memories—memories he’d cheated himself out of.

His uncle admired the offering as though the clueless purchase was the finest arrangement in the room instead of what it was—an afterthought. “I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. Thank you for the flowers, Alex, they’re lovely.”

Alfred reached for his water glass, and Alex hurried to assist, stopped by a harsh glare and an admonishing, “I’m hardly helpless. The closet bench is one thing. This is a sip of water.”

“I know, sir.” Alex retreated, suddenly feeling extremely awkward.

“This type of surgery isn’t what it used to be,” his uncle explained. “They use lasers and balloons now. They still make an incision, only it’s tiny.” He held up fingers spaced approximately two inches apart. “No more ‘stem to stern’. Why, they tell me the scar will hardly be visible. They even cut into my groin, not my chest.” He added, with a wicked grin, “I always knew that was the true way to a man’s heart. Do you think they listened to me?”

Reassured by his uncle’s good mood and more optimistic about the chances of a full recovery, despite the lack of information from the surgeon, Alex pulled a chair closer to the bed and collapsed into it, his sleepless night taking its toll. “Did they feed you breakfast?” he asked, stifling a yawn and recalling his own lonely repast.

Alfred snorted. “If you can call it that. Juice and broth are hardly the breakfast of champions.”

“Yeah? Well, I missed you this morning. I’m not used to eating alone anymore. I’m becoming a bit spoiled, I’m afraid.”

“Alone? Where was Paul? Speaking of Paul, why isn’t he with you?” Alfred perused the room as if he expected to find a stray brunet lurking unnoticed in a corner.

Okay, Alex hadn’t planned to broach the subject this soon, but his faux pas opened the door. He hoped for the best and stepped through. “I… I didn’t stay at the house last night, and incidentally, I’m borrowing your BMW.”

Alfred appeared momentarily confused, and then a wry grin spread across his face. “Ah… and who is the lucky woman… or man?”

“No one,” Alex blurted. “I moved to a hotel last night.”

All traces of humor disappeared from his uncle’s face. “Really? Whatever for? Is something wrong at the house?” Narrowed eyes accused him. “You and Paul didn’t have a disagreement, did you?”

“Well…,” Alex began, nervous about how to proceed, “not exactly.”

Alfred trained the same disapproving gaze on him he’d used years ago when Alex got into trouble. “What’s going on between you and Paul?”

“Nothing!” he responded, a little too defensively, perhaps. If Alfred’s arms hadn’t been strapped down and IV-filled, Alex knew they’d be folded across his chest. He sighed, admitting, “I haven’t exactly been fair to him.”

“Not fair? How?”

Too astute not to notice something wasn’t quite right, and lawyer enough not to rest until he’d uncovered the truth, Alfred raised a questioning brow and waited. Alex took the opportunity to come clean. Carefully selecting his words, he tried hard not to upset his uncle. “When I first arrived, I didn’t know who he was. He was hugging you, and, well, you seemed so familiar.”

The old man snorted. “Of course we seemed familiar. He’s the nephew of my partner! He practically grew up in our house.”

Alex took a deep breath, braced himself, and then asked, “Is he your lover?”

Alfred sputtered, face coloring. “My lover? Alexander Anderson Martin! Are you out of your mind? He’s like a son to me, as you are! How dare you think such a thing! He’s Byron’s nephew, for crying out loud!”

Alarmed, Alex placed his hand over the nurse call button. “Shh…. Uncle, calm down, calm down! I didn’t mean to make you mad. I thought….”

“You thought what? That I’d replace the love of my life with his own nephew mere moments after his passing?” Alfred fixed Alex with the stare designed to back down agents and lesser lawyers. “Listen to me. There will never be another. Byron was my life!”

Alex hung his head, realizing how utterly ridiculous he sounded. “I’m sorry. It’s just I found so many things that led me to believe—”

“What things?”

“For starters, I came home at midnight to find Paul leaving your room, wearing only his shorts.” In spite of the circumstances, Alex’s cock twitched at the memory.

“That hardly points to an affair.”

“The next morning I came to your room while you were in the shower. I found those same boxers in your bed.”

Alfred scowled in disbelief. “In my bed?”

“It wasn’t only that.” Alex cringed, reluctant to voice what now seemed ridiculously absurd.

“Oh, there’s more?” Those thin arms did cross Alfred’s chest then, or as much as the IV tubes and tape allowed.

No getting around it; he’d have to spill his guts about his blatant breach of privacy. Alex steeled his resolve, determined to clear the air and put everything out in the open as he should have from the start. “A few mornings later, I found an empty condom package on your bed.”

Alfred’s shocked gasp quickly changed to laughter, and then he winced, pulling a pillow against his body to brace his incision. After a moment, he calmed enough to say, “Oh, Alex. I was wondering why I found an unused condom in my trash can.”

Alex was certain his uncle had lost his mind. “Sir?”

“It’s Bernard, Alex. I’m afraid the old dear has gone a bit senile. In fact, his fears about his own senility prompted his semi-retirement.”

“He put those things there?” Somehow, Alex couldn’t image the steadfast butler doing something so inexplicable.

“He told me he’s been doing odd things lately and doesn’t know why. However, he’s been such a good friend and loyal employee that I can’t let him go. And for the record, I wasn’t laughing at
him.
Good Lord, Alex, you should have seen your face!”

Well, he had to admit he deserved a little ribbing. “And you and Paul?”

“Heavens, no! As I said, he’s like a son to me, as you are. I can’t count the number of times Byron and I tried to get the two of you to meet when you were younger. Somehow my plans never seemed to work out.”

Oh. That. “I’m afraid I have something else to confess.”

His uncle’s stern gaze and raised eyebrows once again brought back memories of childhood misdeeds and their consequences. “Go on.”

“I never wanted to meet him,” Alex mumbled.

“Why ever not? The two of you have a lot in common.”

His reasons for avoidance seemed silly now, though at the time they’d made perfect sense. “The truth is, I was jealous of him. I got to go with you on vacations, but he got to come here or stay with you in Bishop. I went away to boarding school while he spent his weekends at the beach or hiking in the mountains with the two of you.” Sadly, he recalled the postcards and letters, rambling ad nauseam about P.J. this and P.J. that. The love-starved child Alex saw it as betrayal, and the knife twisted in his heart with each new letter.

Alfred’s expression softened. “Oh, Alex. I didn’t know you felt so strongly. You never said anything. If you had, you know I would have….”

“Stood up to Grandmother? No, she wanted me to have a
proper
upbringing, which meant being raised by servants and teachers, and seeing my family only on holidays.” Alex reached out to brush his fingers along Alfred’s hand—once more resting on the bed—carefully avoiding meeting his uncle’s eyes. Expressing his feelings to another was hard enough without being scrutinized. “I know you cared about me. Back when I was a kid, I used to hope one day you’d let me come live with you.”

“You never knew, did you?” Alfred asked in amazement, as though realizing, too late, that he’d withheld critical information capable of clearing a client from a life behind bars.

“Knew what?”

“Alex, when your mother died I tried to adopt you. Back then a gay couple adopting wouldn’t have been allowed.”

“You did?” A burden carried on Alex’s shoulders for twenty years suddenly lifted, his uncle confirming what he already knew deep down—he’d been wanted and loved. Byron had alluded to adoption, even if his uncle had never mentioned it before. To know Alfred hadn’t intentionally left him in the care of two cold, unfeeling people because he couldn’t be bothered with the responsibility of a child came as a tremendous relief.

Gazing off into space, lost in his own thoughts, Alfred finally answered, “Yes, I did. Until your father stepped up and demanded custody, and the best way to protect your interests was to award you to my parents. He didn’t stand a chance against them.”