“You didwhat?” Alex bellowed. Never in his life would he have believed his uncle capable of such if he hadn’t heard with his own ears, and even then he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Alfred confirmed it. “I paid Jordan to say he’d found someone else and disappear. All Paul knows is that he was unfaithful. Paul honestly and truly loved him, though I’ll admit to never understanding why. The man possessed few good qualities.
“So you see, Alex, the two of you have something in common. Potential lovers look at you both the same way, fantasizing about wealth and power and expecting you to fulfill their delusions.”
“Three years is a long time. He hasn’t found someone new?” Alex prodded.
“The relationship only ended last year. They had two years together, more or less. I dare say poor Paul’s a bit gun-shy now, all things considered.”
“You want me to look after him?”
“Not exactly. I want you to look after each other.”
Paul cut off whatever else Alfred might have said by reentering the room. “Are you ready to go, Alfred?”
“We’ll talk more later,” Alfred assured Alex.
THEpatriarch of the Anderson household noticed the strained silence on the way to the hospital and chose not to comment. He knew the boys worried about him. Personally, he wasn’t overly concerned with the outcome of his upcoming procedure, for death held little fear for him now. In fact, he’d invented every conceivable excuse to postpone the procedure, secretly hoping that, with Byron gone, nature would simply take its course. It hadn’t happened, and he’d run out of excuses.
He knew his surrogate sons would take his passing hard, but he’d lived a glorious life and accomplished nearly everything he’d wanted to. Besides, without Byron, all the color had fled his world, and he was getting rather tired of gray.
He had one little promise to keep and then he’d be free to join his love. Surprisingly, “Operation Unite Our Nephews” showed signs of promise. Hiding a smile that would be out of place amidst the troubled faces surrounding him, Alfred recalled the early morning hours, barely suppressing his glee.
Since Byron’s death, Paul had made a habit of checking on him before going to bed, and he’d scarcely returned from the bathroom when a soft tap had sounded on his door. Sliding swiftly beneath the covers, Alfred feigned sleep. A soft kiss brushed his forehead, then Paul whispered, “Good night.”
When Paul left the room, reeking of sex, Alfred had stolen a glance at the clock: 4:00 a.m.
He’d little doubt of the identity of Paul’s lover, and Alex’s jealous and protective reaction to the story of Jordan confirmed his suspicions. Alex was an Anderson through and through, and Andersons were exceedingly possessive of what they considered theirs. Alfred’s disclosures were true enough, but baiting his nephew had been fun. If he’d had more time, he’d have shown Alex the pictures of Jordan and Paul in Las Vegas, but pictures of the two men kissing in front of the Mirage might have proven too much. Andersons were a jealous bunch, with volatile tempers to match. One mustn’t poke sleeping tigers.
Alfred kept himself entertained during the short trip, alternating his attention between a subdued Paul and a thoughtful Alex, whose gaze shifted from Alfred to Paul and back again via the rearview mirror as he drove.
At the hospital, Paul settled Alfred into a wheelchair while Alex completed admission forms, each slipping easily into the role they were most comfortable with: Paul the consoler, Alex the businessman. Good boys. They’d learned their lessons well, even if they had yet to realize they’d been taught those roles almost from birth.
They both hugged Alfred and wished him well. An orderly wheeled him into the elevator on his way to surgery, and he smiled encouragement until the doors closed.It won’t be long now, my love,he thought.
INTHEwaiting room, Alex broke the silence first. “About last night….”
“It won’t happen again.” Paul snapped the words out from between clenched teeth.
“Why not?” Alex asked, surprised and disappointed even though he knew, for his uncle’s sake, he couldn’t continue an affair. Guilt hung like a heavy weight around his neck already. Nevertheless, it would be nice to be given a choice and not have Paul decide the matter for him.
Paul hissed, “Because I’m not one of your play toys! I’m not some fan boy to fall down and worship the great Alex Martin!”
This wasn’t the way Alex envisioned the conversation taking place. “You were willing enough last night.”
“You may have had my body, but you’ll never have me!” Paul countered, eyes darting away.
Why won’t he even look at me?“Listen….” Alex’s words died when an elderly woman entered the room. He lowered his voice. “What makes you think I want you?”
Paul’s mouth dropped open. “You mean you’ll keep your promise not to bother me again?”
Alex sighed, visions of tossing Paul out on his ass replaced by visions of an eager lover lying tangled in turquoise sheets. “If that’s what you want. Regardless of what you might think, I’m a man of my word.”
A moment of silence was broken by a quietly murmured, “Thank you.”
They settled in to wait, forced to sit next to each other in the crowded room. Visitors came and went, the clock ticking off the hours. Paul’s head nodded despite the harsh fluorescent lighting. When Alex placed an arm around his shoulders, Paul jumped, shooting an accusing glare.
“Truce, okay?” Alex held up a defensive hand. “You can lay your head on me if you want. I promise I won’t bite.” The innocently spoken words conjured reminders of the marks Paul left on his body, causing an immediate reaction—one he was determined not to show. No matter how badly he wanted a repeat of last night, he’d given his word and intended to keep it.
