The Wish Read Online Free Page A

Listening with half an ear, he heard the sounds of his guest dressing and hoped to hear his front door closing at any moment.
    When the sound of slamming doors didn’t reach his ears, he turned, only to find the lost-looking pickup, half-dressed, watching him with tear-filled eyes. “What now?” Alex huffed, his patience nearing an end.
    The boy sniffled. “I don’t know where to go. That was my boyfriend with me last night. I don’t think he’ll welcome me back with open arms now.”
    Alex allowed the nuisance to see every bit of the anger and impatience he could muster. “And that’s my fault how? Did I hold a gun to your head and force you to reject him in favor of the first person who noticed you? Hmm? Did I? Did I make any promises other than to fuck you into the mattress? A promise I kept, by the way.”
    “No,” the now not-so-sexy boy answered. One lone tear spilled down his cheek.
    Not tears! Alex needed to act quickly or the annoying sympathy he’d never completely squashed in the name of being an Anderson would come into play, and he wouldn’t make his flight in time. Thinking back to his cold, unfeeling grandparents and their self-righteous superiority, he used the lessons they’d taught him from birth and hardened his heart. Channeling the spirit of his ice-cold grandmother, he snapped, “Would you please get out of here? I told you I have things to do!” He turned his back, gratified at the forceful slam of his front door seconds later. Hurriedly checking his security cameras to ensure his guest hadn’t enacted some form of revenge, he promptly pushed the whole episode out of his mind, returning his attention to packing and what he’d be facing in the coming days.
    How he hated funerals! His uncle controlled his allowance, though, making his appearance mandatory. He sighed. No, the obligatory trip to LA wasn’t the reason for his bad mood; that was merely what he’d told his casual acquaintances when they’d asked. Truthfully, for all his projected indifference, Alex cared for Uncle Alfred and his uncle’s partner, Byron, and even if he didn’t visit them often, he’d always counted on a warm welcome when he did. Therein lay the problem. A certain amount of guilt, one of many emotions he avoided religiously, plagued him for not being with Byron at the end. The slight wasn’t intentional, only every time he booked a flight, he’d later panicked and canceled. Though she’d passed away a painfully long time ago, images of his dying mother haunted him, and he couldn’t bear to witness such a painful end to yet another person he cared about. A coward? Him? Absolutely. Now he had to face his uncle, knowing he’d let the man down.
    He secretly envied the two men their close relationship and never once viewed his uncle’s lover as the gold-digger his grandparents accused the man of being. No, the money had meant absolutely nothing to Byron Sinclair, and Uncle Alfred himself had been the center of the redhead’s universe. Long ago, Alex gave up on the dream of one day meeting someone who saw beyond the face, body, expensive condo, and money. Someone who took the time see Alex, the man, lurking under the façade of Alex, the wealthy playboy. Someone who loved classical music and a good book, and who’d rather spend a quiet evening at home than out clubbing. Someone who would take him down a peg or two when Anderson arrogance inflated his ego, as Byron had done for his uncle. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d never have what those two men shared, and, deep down, it broke his heart that his uncle no longer had it, either.
     
     
    T HE gray Bishop sky reflected the gloomy mood of the lone man sitting on the rooftop—his sanctuary in times of trouble. His much-loved uncle had died far too young, and Paul hadn’t been there to offer comfort at the end. His uncle had rallied on Friday, and everyone concerned had deemed it safe for Paul to go home, check on his bookstore, and then