Alex had listened to Alfred’s side of the story. How much did Paul know of the whole truth? “You said ‘ex’. What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Paul snorted. “You’re probably the only one who doesn’t know, so what’s telling you gonna hurt?” He drained his teacup and placed it on the desk. “Through my college years I worked and saved, wanting to open my own business when I graduated. I thought I had life figured out. First came the store, next a house, the perfect man and the perfect life—even a kid or two.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped. Paul took a picture from the desk, staring at the two men whose relationship they both envied, sorrow etched on his handsome features.
“All my life, I’ve watched my uncle and Alfred, wanting to be like them. I thought I found ‘the one’ one night at a party.” He held the picture out to Alex, pursed lips and the slump of his shoulder radiating disappointment. “I couldn’t understand why Jordan even paid attention to me. I was nobody, and it took me far too long to figure out his reasons.
“You see, he didn’t believe I didn’t have money, thinking me rich because of my uncle. For two years he and I were happy, or at least I thought so, though I never completely understood why he wouldn’t come with me to Bishop. I loved him and convinced myself he loved me too.
“He begged me to buy a property here, where he could stay when I went back home. No matter what I said, he never believed I wasn’t rolling in money. Tired of his constant demands, I showed him my bank statements and loan payments, proving I barely made ends meet.”
Alex knew the rest of the story, but remained quiet, unwilling to implicate Alfred. As much as Paul loved Alfred, he also valued honesty. What would he do if he knew Jordan had been paid to break his heart? Alex should have realized Paul’s shrewdness wouldn’t leave the truth undiscovered.
“Jordan wanted more than I had to offer and began making demands,” Paul said. “Nothing I did made him happy. He even had the nerve to suggest I sell the store!”
“Then what?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars, Alex!” Paul barked, jumping from his chair to pace frantically before the desk. “That’s what I was worth to him! Two hundred fucking thousand lousy dollars!” Wounded eyes glittered with tears that soon overflowed onto his cheeks, sliding down his chin to fall to the floor.
“What did he do?” Alex asked, fighting the urge to find Jordan and give the man a few choice words—or his fist.
“Alfred gave him the money to go away,” Paul admitted with a defeated sigh.
Paul knows?“You’re not mad?”
Paul laughed, a sound totally devoid of humor. “Oh, I was for a while, until I discovered how Jordan amused himself while I was away. Something Alfred knew and hadn’t told me, hoping I’d find out on my own while shielding me as much as possible. Jordan was in deep trouble, Alex. Seems he has a gambling problem and used his connections to me and our uncles to get credit.”
“You knew?”
“No,” Paul said, nibbling at his lower lip. “Not at first. I turned a blind eye to his faults because I loved him. When I found out, he said he was sorry for what he’d done. He even went to counseling and started working on honestly paying off his debts. I gave him another chance.”
Oh,hellno! Alex didn’t believe in second chances, conveniently forgetting a second chance was, in essence, what he himself wanted. “You mean you stayed with him after he used you?”
Regardless of Jordan’s many transgressions, Paul jumped to his defense. “Jordan didn’t have the advantages we did, like a family, a home. He had problems we can’t even begin to imagine.”
“That’s no excuse in my book,” Alex growled. He stood and joined Paul in his pacing. “Let me guess: he didn’t stop gambling.”
Paul puffed his cheeks, blowing out a huffed breath. “I think he did for a while, though not for long. He just learned to hide his weaknesses better. Anyway, it gets worse.”
“How could it possibly get worse?” Alex felt strangely indignant, even though Paul had been slighted and not him.
“To put it mildly, he didn’t get lonely whenever I went to Bishop.”
Alex chose not to comment. Alfred had alluded to the man’s infidelity, but apparently being a slut wasn’t the full extent of Jordan’s misdeeds.
“And he owed a bookie money,” Paul continued, “alotof money.”
Alex easily imagined what happened next. “When Alfred offered to bail him out, he took the money and was gone the next time you came back, am I right?”
“Yes. I’m the biggest sucker on the planet, aren’t I?” Paul hung his head. “Go ahead, tell me what a sap I am.”
The arrogant bastard Alex once pretended to be would have agreed; however, that version of him hadn’t survived long after arriving at his uncle’s house. The new and improved Alex answered truthfully, “No, you’re not a sap. Too forgiving, maybe; a sap, no.”
Paul’s next question took Alex by surprise. “How do you do it, Alex?”
“Do what?”
“Sleep with people you don’t care about. How do you do that? Isn’t it lonely? Don’t you want to wake up with someone you love, who loves you?”
Though Alex had never thought of his independence in quite those terms before, Paul made an excellent point. “Like our uncles?”
