12
I’MAcoward, 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!”
