Chapter 13

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Chapter 13: Reflection

As the door clicked shut behind H., I placed my fingers over my lips, wondering if that had been our last kiss. My legs felt wobbly as I walked to the sofa and sank heavily into the cushions. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, overwhelmed with pain and confusion. I had just witnessed it, but I still couldn't believe H. was able to just give me an ultimatum the way he did and leave. He didn't even bother trying to persuade me. Either he was so confident I'd choose him, he didn't want to waste the time, or he simply didn't care whether we stayed together. Was this the same man who not so long ago pursued me relentlessly until I agreed to see him again? Was this the man who told me he needed me and would take a relationship with me on any terms? If it was, he certainly didn't appear to feel that way anymore, and I had no clue what caused such a drastic change.

A tear slipped from my eye as I wondered if it had all been a game he couldn't stand losing. Had he only wanted me because he saw that I was happy with Jasper? Was I a toy that was only attractive when unavailable? That's certainly what my friends had been saying all along. I'd ignored them, because often when we were together H. could make me feel like the center of the universe. But lately he'd been as likely to snipe as compliment. I'd lay the blame with Ginny and her pregnancy, never imagining he may have simply been getting bored with me. Now, however, the latter explanations seemed far more likely, and if this was the case, there was no point in staying with him.

I groaned, thinking about everyone's reaction if H. and I separated again. Dré would be absolutely insufferable. Of course, I could try keeping it to myself. It wasn't anybody's business but mine. But eventually it would come out. Not just news of the break up, but the story behind it. I never could keep my mouth shut when I was pissed, and I'd never been able to handle breaking up with H. without drinking. Dré would have the satisfaction of his "I told you so's," but why should he be denied? He'd been right, after all. H. managed to slice me to pieces yet again.

The only difference was that this time there was someone possibly standing by to help me put myself back together. But would Kinkaid want me if I turned into a depressed, drunk fool? Would he understand what I needed to go through and wait for me, or would he decide I wasn't worth the bother and move on to find someone else? He had been all too agreeable to sharing me with H. That may have been a sign that he wanted me badly, or that he didn't really care. Maybe he was just like H., like all the men in their circles who only wanted the few things or people they couldn't readily buy. Kinkaid hadn't asked me to make a choice, but I couldn't forget that I once asked him to choose, and he chose his business over me. How could I know he wouldn't abandon me just like H. when a better looking, less available bloke came along? How long would it be before he, too, would grow bored with me?

Then there were my own feelings. I knew H.'s demands were unreasonable, but they always had been. And while I was certain he would never give me more than what he already had, I wasn't ready to give him up. Even if he was getting tired of me, even if by staying with him I risked losing what little dignity I had left, I couldn't bear it ending this way. Every time we had broken up before, it had always been explosive and dramatic, with one or both of us nursing emotional wounds and righteous indignation. We never simply quietly walked out of each other's lives.

I sat there on the sofa with my head thrown back for so long I actually fell asleep. My mobile ringing roused me. I pulled it out quickly, thinking it may have been H., but the display showed Kinkaid's name. Not ready to talk to him, I let the call go to voice mail, and then frowned. I'd told him I was with H. tonight. Why would he call me to interrupt that? It made me all the more suspicious that he had arranged for the article, and now the phone call, in an effort to disrupt my relationship. And he had succeeded, I acknowledged with a wry smile. Almost. Theoretically I still had a choice. Maybe it wasn't optimal, but it was mine to make.

I rubbed sleep out of my eyes, stretched and stood up. I folded up the paper H. had left open to the article about Kinkaid and took it out with me to dispose of at home. This house was a sacred space for H. and me, and regardless what happened, Kinkaid didn't belong there.

I went to work the next day still without having made a decision. I hadn't returned Kinkaid's call, not ready to speak with him until I made up my mind about H. I spent the morning agonizing, getting practically no work done. A late morning knock on my door startled me, and I imagined it was my irate boss, wondering why I still hadn't delivered the analysis I promised, but was surprised to see our office junior, Alistair, leading a delivery messenger.

"Sorry to disturb you, Rick, but he insisted that he was hired to deliver this to you personally. He refused to leave it with the receptionist, even though we both assured him you'd get it," Alistair said with obvious resentment and irritation.

"Sorry," the messenger shrugged carelessly. "I have to follow my orders. That's how I get paid, and this one paid extra, so..." he let his voice drift without finishing as he stepped past Alistair and held out a small, yellow envelope. "You're Cedric Diggory?"

"I am," I confirmed, wincing at the use of my full name. "Who is this from?"

"He didn't give me his name. Just gave me the envelope and said if I delivered it personally and could describe what you looked like he'd pay me double."

"Alright, then. Thanks," I mumbled, eyeing the envelope curiously.

"Thank you," the messenger smiled and winked, then turned and left the office, giving Alistair a smug smirk.

"Arrogant sod," Alistair muttered and trailed off after the messenger, undoubtedly to ensure he left the premises.

I stood and closed the door behind them, then returned to the envelope. I turned it over several times in my hand, looking for anything to identify the sender, but there was nothing. Belatedly, it occurred to me that I should have asked the messenger what the sender looked like. As it was, the only way to find out was to open the envelope and see what was inside.

I tore the flap and looked inside the envelope. A memory card in a small plastic protector was tucked between a folded piece of stationery. I instantly had visions of suspense thrillers. What was on the card? Was I being used as a pawn in some terrorist scheme or industrial sabotage? Was the card filled with a virus that would take down Lloyds if I inserted it into my work computer's card reader? Feeling foolish at falling victim of my overactive imagination, but not wanting to be the guy who destroyed an English institution, I quickly decided to go home for lunch and use my personal computer to see what was on the card. It was nearly lunchtime, so I pocketed the card and told the secretary that I was going out early.

The tube seemed to crawl back to my place, eating up nearly half of my lunch hour. I practically ran from the Gloucester Road stop to my flat. Once there, I started my laptop and took out the card. As soon as the boot cycle completed, I put the card into the reader, directing the antivirus program to scan it. The scan was near instant and came up empty, so I clicked on the directory. The card only held one file in a presentation format. With some trepidation, I clicked to open it.

The screen went black, and for a second I went right into panic mode. Then the words "I love you," appeared in a red bold script. A few seconds later they disappeared and an embedded video image appeared. Some woman in scrubs, apparently from some medical show, was imploring a similarly dressed man to pick her. I smiled, suddenly knowing exactly who'd sent the card. The video disappeared and was replaced by the words "So choose me, pick me, love me." in the same red script from before. I felt warm and giddy. Even though there was no way to identify him from the contents, I knew this was H.'s handiwork. He did care. He still loved me and wanted me, enough to take the time to put this together and risk sending it. Granted, the risk would have seemed minimal to most, but I knew it was a huge step for him.

I played the presentation over and over, grinning like a fool the entire time. After a couple dozen times I finally stopped and closed my eyes. There was no question what I was going to do. I pulled out my mobile and thought hard about how to send a message that he would understand but would be meaningless to others. I settled on a single letter, texting a single letter: "U". I immediately followed with another text.

"Unbelievable goal in that match yesterday, yeah?"

To anyone reading his texts it would seem like a slip of the send key, but I hoped H. would understand.

"It was. Want to chat about it over a pint at 4?" The response was almost immediate and my heart did cartwheels. He was willing to meet me on a Friday!

"Sounds good. See you then."

My casual text betrayed none of my excitement. I felt like flying. Suddenly all my hours of agony seemed so pointless. Of course I would choose to stay with H. The idea concept of choice had always been an illusion.

The adrenaline pumping through my system all afternoon helped me get the analysis done in record time. I sent off the e-mail to my boss and left the office before anyone had a chance to ask me to do anything else. Even so, I saw H.'s briefcase by the door when I came into the house. This time he wasn't in the living room, though. I ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. I paused at the door to the bedroom to drink in the sight of him sprawled out on the bed, gloriously naked and stroking his hard cock. I crossed over to the bed in long strides and would have pounced on that beautiful manhood immediately, had he not anticipated my move and sat up to reach for me instead, pulling me over to lay on top of him. He muffled my protests with his lips, and I immediately became pliant in his grip, letting him take charge.

He made that time all about me. We kissed forever, something I always loved and we never seemed to have enough time for, before he slowly undressed me, kissing my flesh as he exposed it. He sucked my cock as he prepared me tenderly with his fingers. When he finally entered me, it wasn't the usual heated, urgent fucking, but slow and deliberate lovemaking. I never minded how passionate we were when he took me roughly, but this was an experience on a whole other level, beyond the physical. That afternoon we shared a spiritual connection that we had never reached before, and my orgasm reflected it, taking me out of body and almost out of consciousness.

Even after we were done he wouldn't let go of me, keeping his arms wrapped around me and stroking my slick, heated skin as we lay side by side.

"I don't know what I would have done if you'd made a different choice," he said softly. "I saw the article in the paper yesterday and I felt my world crumbling around me again. The thought of losing you was devastating."

"Why didn't you tell me that? Why were you so cold? Not just yesterday, but lately it's been different, H. You've been different. When you just left after giving me that ultimatum, I really thought you were done with me, that you didn't want me."

"What?" he was genuinely shocked. "No! Ced, you must know that will never be true. I love you."

"You say that, but your actions sometimes say something different." I looked up at him apologetically. I didn't want to spoil what we'd just shared, but I needed him to know how I felt.

"I didn't realize. I've just been so preoccupied lately and stressed out. Ginny's been in an awful mood. It's a row after row at home. Sometimes the only peace I get is when I take James for a walk to give her some time alone. We're lucky he's as calm as he is. I can only imagine what it would be like if he was a screaming, fussy child. But I didn't know I've been bringing all that here with me. You deserve better. I will do better."

"I don't want you to stress about your time here," I said, smoothing out the crease between his brows. "I know sometimes you have a lot of other things on your mind, especially lately. I wouldn't have said anything, but the way you just left yesterday, like you didn't even care what my decision would turn out to be, it hurt, a lot," I admitted.

"Not care? Of course I care," he said heatedly. "I spent my whole day trying to figure out what to do. The pictures were so intimate. I thought it was already too late. I thought you were leaving me. I know he can offer you more than I can. Then when you said you wanted to be with both of us, and I should have been relieved, but all I could think was it would mean living with that daily fear that you were going to leave me. I wouldn't be able to handle that, Ced. Everyone I ever loved has been taken from me, and if you were going to be taken too, I just wanted to know, without dragging it out. Just one swift blow instead of daily lashings."

I pressed myself as close to him as I could. I knew his uncle had hit him when he was young, and I hated that I had anything to do with him remembering that awful past.

"Al, I love you. No one will ever take me away from you. No one can. Only you have the power to make me go."

We held each other tightly, momentarily lost in our own thoughts. I should have known his reaction was just that of a hurt little boy who needed to look strong when he felt the weakest. He had always done that, always maintained that stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. I'd just been too self-absorbed to put it together.

"So what made you put that presentation together?" I asked. It was alarming to think that I still hadn't made a decision when the delivery arrived, and that I still didn't know what my decision would have been without it. I had, at one point, considered saying no to both him and Kinkaid, trying another fresh start. I had been so close to making the wrong choice.

"I didn't sleep much last night," he explained. "I kept thinking that you needed to make a choice, but that I hadn't done enough to even the playing field. Kinkaid had just taken you out for a romantic dinner, and I couldn't do anything like that, but I could let you know how I felt."

"I'm so glad you did it, H.," I told him sincerely. "I needed that gesture. Sometimes I need more than words."

"I'll do better, Ced, I will," he promised again. "I'll show you how much you mean to me."

That evening I called Kinkaid to relay my decision. I could tell he wasn't happy, and he tried to convince me to see him socially as friends, like we used to be when we first met, but I explained that it was impossible to turn back time.

"If you ever change your mind, you have my number," he told me.

"I won't be calling, Kaid. I'm with the man I love. You need to move on. Focus on your personal life and find someone who makes you happy. You deserve that," I told him sincerely.

"You deserve that too, Cedric. You deserve more than he's giving you," Kinkaid made a last ditch effort.

"He makes me happy. That's all that matters."

I believed everything I told Kinkaid when I said it, and for a while it turned out to be true. At first H. made an effort and was as good as his word. He became a lot sweeter when we were together, and went out of his way to demonstrate how he felt instead of just talking about it. For our anniversary he arranged for a trip to a bed and breakfast in Ireland, and he bought me a fantastic Marc Jacobs leather motorcycle jacket. He loved when I wore it and I loved that he switched to using the briefcase I bought for him. The two items were a signal, a visible reminder that we carried a piece of each other with us even when we weren't together.

Most touching of all, though, was when he insisted on naming his second son Albus. He explained to Ginny and his friends that he was honoring a Dean of the first school he attended, who had always shown him kindness where others had not, but he confided in me that it was one way he could think of to use the nickname I gave him, which he loved. He said he would have preferred to call him Cedric, but that would have raised too many questions, so Al was as close as he could get to linking his son with me. Needless to say, I was touched, so although I wasn't formally invited, I was at the back of the church on the day of baby Al's Christening. Sharing that moment, however remotely, meant a lot to us, even if it had to be kept secret.

Albus' birth, however, also marked the start of yet another cycle of deterioration of my relationship with H. He could no longer stay as late as before, so our meetings were frequently reduced to urgent sex and minimal conversation or cuddling afterwards. To make things worse, H. would often arrive at the Grimmauld house stressed out and angry, complaining about how the economic crisis was making things harder at work. Sometimes he actually did have to work late and missed our meetings as a result. My frustration growing, I once made the mistake of pointing out that with all the money he had, he didn't have to work.

"Really, Ced? I don't have to work? That's bloody brilliant! Do you think you're the first person to point this out? Don't you think I have to hear it from Ginny every bloody day? And just how the fuck do you suppose I'd explain coming to see you every Thursday if I didn't have work as an excuse? Can't you see that I do what I do for us? Or is this your way of telling me you're tired of us?"

I apologized, soothed and reassured him, and never brought the subject up again. His argument had been irrefutable, and delays due to his work schedule were the least of my problems. I had no idea whether or not Ginny knew about me, but she was smart enough to figure out that something was pulling her husband away from her and the kids and she began to tug back. At first it was charitable events and parties that H. had to attend, too often on Thursday evenings or the few weekends that he'd planned to set aside for his "work" trips with me. Fortunately, Ginny was only half successful in convincing H. to attend those. Then, however, she discovered his Achilles heel - their kids. H. was a good father who loved his boys and couldn't say no to anything that involved the two of them. He still did his best to steer those events away from Thursdays, but when he was unsuccessful it was a contest I couldn't win. And Ginny played the James and Albus trump card as often as she possibly could.

H. and I began to row. As often as not we had terrible arguments that left with him slamming his way out of the house and me crying alone in his wake. I felt pathetic on those nights, knowing we'd fallen into a destructive pattern but unable to do anything to stop it. I no longer knew what to say to him, because he could misconstrue even the most innocent remark. One November he asked what I wanted for Christmas. I suggested that we get a mold of his cock to fashion a toy for me so I could have a part of him at home with me. I thought I was being cute, but he became furious.

"If you think that a bit of plastic or silicone could be a replacement for me, then why the fuck am I risking everything to be here with you?"

"H., I didn't mean it like that. Of course it wouldn't be a replacement for you," I protested. Obviously I never told him that months before I'd already gone out and purchased a few toys to use when I wasn't with him, including one as close to his shape and size as I could find. They would never come close to replacing him, but they provided a measure of relief when his cancellations made the fantasy of him the only thing available.

"Yeah? Cause that's what I'm hearing," H. continued spewing, oblivious to my thoughts. "That I'm nothing but a convenient cock to fill your hole."

"Excuse me?" I yelled, shaking with anger. "That's what you're hearing? That's what you're thinking? That you're a convenient cock? Convenient? You must be out of your bloody mind! You think this arrangement is convenient for me? You think I like seeing the man I love once a week and pining for him the rest, knowing that he's at his house, sticking that convenient cock into his wife? Oh, I know, I know. I've heard it all before. You don't fucking enjoy it. But you get off, don't you? You get to come at the end of that exercise. And you would deny me the same with a fucking toy? You're a selfish prick, H. Take your fucking convenient cock and stick it wherever you like."

I pulled on my clothes and, for once, I was the one slamming the door as I left the house. The next day I refused a delivery from a men's shop we both loved. I wasn't playing hard to get. He had simply pushed me too far. But then he texted me that Saturday and asked to meet me "for a pint" and I couldn't resist.

"I was an arsehole. It was such as stupid thing to say. I love you, Ced, and I know this isn't convenient for you. I know you're making sacrifices to be with me too," he told me as he made love to me that afternoon. And like every other time before, even though he never officially asked for it, I granted forgiveness, because seemingly there was no limit to what I was willing to endure to keep him in my life.

The worst thing was the loneliness. Even when I went out with the guys, I always felt like the fifth wheel, on the outside looking in. I told myself I deserved it, that it was just my Karmic payback for all those years at school when I was with H. and Greg was the odd man out, but it didn't make it any easier. I'd grown used to Dré's incessant cutting remarks, but no matter how prepared I was, the barbs still stung. Thankfully, the other three men, even Viktor, were kinder, confining themselves to the occasional suggestion that I leave H. and find someone else. But being kind didn't necessarily make them sympathetic, which mean that I could never complain to any of them about what I was going through. The only one I confided in, when things got really rough and I couldn't hold it in anymore, was Greg. He listened and bit his tongue as much as possible, but even when he didn't say anything I could see his anger for H. and pity for me sparking in his eyes.

The biggest and worst casualty of my relationship with H. was how it impacted my relationship with my parents. In the past, I'd always been close to my parents and had been able to talk to them about anything. I knew, however, that they held marriage vows sacred above all else, so I could never tell them that I was having an affair with a married man. My parents had accepted my homosexuality as best as people of their generation could, probably better, but I knew there was no way they could approve of their son enticing another man into adultery. I couldn't bear to see the disappointment and disapproval in their eyes, so despite their frequent pleas, I told them nothing. I could see this caused them much worry, and I had to listen more than once to my mother lamenting how I needed to find a life companion. All I could do was assure her that I was satisfied with my life the way it was. That had been a hard sell even when I was happy, and nearly impossible when we both knew I was lying.

Seeing the occasional pictures in the paper of Kinkaid with other men didn't help either. I wasn't jealous, exactly. He was doing precisely what I told him to do and I genuinely wanted him to find happiness. I just envied him and his companions the freedom to be so open and honest about not just who they were, but also who they were with. Every time I spied a photo I could hear Dré's sardonic sneer, "What's the bloody point of being out if you do all your fucking in the bloody closet?" But of course, I had no choice in the matter, and I couldn't even betray any hint that it bothered me, because each and every week I saw H. after such a photo had been released, I could feel him studying me. It was as if he expected me to announce that I'd had enough hiding and was leaving him, and the stress, added to his ordinary levels, only made things worse. Those weeks I always made an extra effort not to give him any reason to row.

For the most part, I succeeded. But when a photograph of Kinkaid at some benefit with yet another gorgeous guy appeared the day before H.'s last minute cancellation of our anniversary weekend celebration, I stopped caring.

"I don't believe it. This weekend? Can't you just tell her no, for once?" I demanded when H. told me about a fundraiser dinner Ginny insisted they attend for the boys' future school. As it was, we weren't going to go out of town, like we had before. This time he could only spare me one night together at Gimmauld house. The sad thing was that I rejoiced at the thought of spending this one solitary night in his arms, since even this crumb was so much more than he had been giving me. I was enraged and absolutely inconsolable when H. snatched this one night away. Not that he was trying to console me.

"Stop being a drama queen, Rick. It's just a day, like any other. I'll find another weekend later this month when I can spend the night. What is the big fucking deal?" he countered.

I stared at him in disbelief. "How could you possibly not understand? Do I really mean so little to you?"

"This has nothing to do with how much you mean to me. I told you, I'll arrange another weekend..."

"It is not just another bloody day, H.!" I yelled in frustration, not caring if the entire neighborhood heard me. "It's our anniversary, and it's important. It is to me, anyway. Bad enough that we can't go anywhere together or do anything outside these walls. Now you're telling me you won't even make time for me on our anniversary?"

"And what am I supposed to tell Ginny, huh? Sorry, my children's future education doesn't mean nearly as much to me as spending the weekend with my lover?"

His words shocked me into stillness. I had never heard him describe our relationship out loud before. Technically, he was only being accurate, but hearing me described as his lover in the context of a conversation with his wife made my position very clear. I wasn't the husband, partner, or even the boyfriend. I was a lover; a bit on the side; a mistress. Certainly I didn't rank high enough to outweigh in importance the future education of his sons. I couldn't even respond. I tried to fight the tears but it was futile. In moments I turned away from him, sobbing. But if I thought for a second that he would try to soothe me, to somehow make things better, I was in for an unpleasant surprise.

"I can't fucking deal with this shit here as well as at home. We'll talk next week. Maybe by then you'll have calmed down and start being reasonable." I heard him say before he left the house.

Stunned by his callous lack of compassion, I stopped crying almost immediately and left for my flat, where I promptly filled myself with enough beer to enable me to stop thinking. I woke up with a nasty hangover, but forced myself to go to work. When colleagues asked me to join them for a few pints at the end of the day, I didn't hesitate to go with them, grateful to not have to drink alone. I felt like shit Saturday morning, but by dinner time I was ready for another dose of liquid medicine, so I called Greg to ask if he and the guys were going to Molly's, our favorite drinking hole.

"We are, yeah, but isn't this your anniversary weekend?" Greg asked, sounding confused. My silence was all the response he needed. "Don't tell me, something came up and he had to cancel."

"So can I come drinking with you guys tonight, or would you rather I stay at home?" I asked in lieu of confirmation.

"No, Rick, don't stay home. Of course you're welcome to come out with us. Only..." he paused.

"Only what?" I asked warily.

"Well, I just got a call from Emmett, Jasper's friend. He and his partner are in town, passing through on their way to the UAE, and they'll be joining us tonight too."

"Oh," I finally understood his hesitation. The last time Jasper's friends had been in town I was asked politely to stay away. Apparently Jasper had asked Greg not to disclose anything about his personal life to these so-called friends of his, and Greg worried that if I got pissed I might talk too much. It hurt like hell, feeling like yet another man was too ashamed of being with me to want his friends to know about me, but I did as I was told and made myself scarce while the friends were in town. "You should have said so from the start. No problem. I'll stay away again."

"No, you don't have to," he said quickly. "Please come. I just wanted you to know in advance what to expect."

"What if I say something inappropriate and reveal the big secret?" I asked sarcastically.

"I guess that's not an issue anymore," Greg replied calmly. "I spoke with Jasper and he went back to Seattle for one of the couples' wedding. He saw everyone and filled them in. His private life is all out in the open now."

"I see," I said, though in truth I didn't really understand. "So these guys know Jasper and I lived together?"

"I don't know what they know, but whatever it is, we don't have to keep mum about anything anymore. So you should come. I think you'd like these blokes."

I went as much out of curiosity as the need for companionship. I wanted to meet these friends of Jasper's. I very deliberately wore a pair of tight, black, pin-striped jeans that hugged my ass and a sleeveless, hooded tee shirt that showed off my well-toned arms. The one advantage of being able to see H. only once a week was lots of time to spend at the gym. As a result, I was in better physical shape now than I had been when I lived with Jasper. Somewhat perversely, I wanted his friends to see that and maybe even report it back to him.

I got to Molly's before anyone else, so I bought a beer and found an empty table. Greg and Viktor showed up next, Greg slinging an arm around me in a supportive hug. Vince and Dré strolled in together, Dré dressed all in black despite it being summer. Greg must not have told him I was coming, because he looked surprised which, for control-freak Dré was never a good thing.

"What happened to the cozy anniversary weekend?" he pounced as soon as Viktor and Vince left to get beer for themselves and their guys.

"Dré," Greg tried to step in the way of the moving train, but to no avail.

"Don't tell me, Prince Charming Potter had to attend another ball? How predictable."

"I'd really rather not talk about it, Dré," I tried to make myself clear without getting angry.

"I'm sure you wouldn't. Because then you wouldn't have to admit how pathetic this sham of a relationship you're in really is."

"Dré, stop it!" Greg tried to order.

"Stop what?" Viktor asked, returning with two glasses and handing one to Greg. "What is wrong, Grigor?" he was as surprised by Greg's tone of voice as we all had been, and his concern for his husband was showing.

Vince, who walked up immediately after Viktor, handed Dré his beer and, sensing unrest, stepped protectively behind his man.

"Nothing to worry about. Dré was just giving me shit about H.," I said wearily, wishing I'd decided to stay home.

"I was merely observing reality." Dré remained unrepentant.

"You were being your usual insensitive prick self," I shot back. "My partner just canceled our anniversary weekend. You could have a heart instead of being a cold bastard."

"You don't get a lot of sympathy from me, Rick. This is what you signed up for," Dré said calmly and took a drink of his beer. Vince wrapped his arm possessively around Dré and nodded in agreement. I rolled my eyes, but secretly envied the support Dré always got from Vince.

"This isn't the same. This wasn't just any night," I protested, though I knew it was pointless.

"But you know that's how it is with him. The chance you take every single time," Dré stated what everyone around the table already knew.

"I know," I acknowledged with a defeated sigh.

"He didn't do this on purpose, and we can only hope he is as miserable as he deserves to be," Greg patted my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

"Rick, you are good looking guy," Viktor offered, pulling Greg closer to him. "You know how nice it is to sleep next to Greg every single night? You can have that too. Find a nice boy, who is gay boy and admit it, and settle down with him."

"Like you almost did with that nice Yank, Jasper. Just don't fuck it up this time," Dré threw in.

"I should. I can have anybody I want!" I declared, the beer feeding my anger and my ego.

"That's the spirit," Dré needled.

"I'm going to shag the next guy that comes in that door," I pointed as I spoke, not believing the words that were coming out of my mouth. "If he's cute, I mean," I quickly modified, hoping the next guy to come in would resemble a woodland troll so we could just laugh off my stupid comment and forget the whole thing. I couldn't be that lucky, however. In fact, the guy who walked in would make any man in his right mind drool. He was gorgeous, built, and walked in with a confident smile. It took me a split second to make up my mind. The beer coursing through my system, coupled with the bitterness I felt at having had no word from H. since he walked out on me Thursday, made me bold and reckless. I was supposed to get laid this weekend, and if H. couldn't be bothered to fuck me, then I could bloody well find someone else who would. Especially someone like this guy, who looked like he could pin me down and fuck me 'till I forgot my own name.

"Oh, shit yeah!" I announced. "Now, you blokes watch me turn on the Diggory charm!" I put down my beer and stood up to my full height, intent on stalking my prey.

"You won't be shagging this guy, mate," Greg said with a pat on my shoulder.

"And why not?" I challenged. In seconds, I had my answer.

"Emmett!" Viktor called. I watched the newcomer turn towards our table and smile wider with recognition.

"Hey, Vik," the man and Viktor exchanged tight hugs. "How's my favorite soccer player?"

"Football! Bloody Yank," Dré grumbled, but it was clear he was only doing so out of habit.

The man went around the table greeting and exchanging hugs and kisses with everyone. "And I'll just bet this is Rick," he said when he reached me.

"Emmett, meet Rick," Greg confirmed.

"Hi, Rick," Emmett offered his hand, which I eagerly shook.

"Hi, yourself. How did you know my name?" It was hard to keep my admiration for the good looking American from my voice.

"You look a lot like a friend of mine. Wasn't hard to put that together," Emmett said easily. "So, thanks for meeting me, guys," he said to the others.

"It's our pleasure, mate. How long are you in town?" Greg asked.

"Just tonight. We fly out to the Emirates tomorrow."

"You're with Nasir, right? Where is he?" Greg looked towards the door, as if he was expecting another man to walk in any moment.

"He's with his sister." Emmett smiled without elaborating. "So who needs a beer? I know I do. This round's on me."

"C'mon, mate. I'll help you," Greg and Emmett left to get the beers as the rest of us looked after them.

"That is one fine Yank," I noted.

"Yes, he is," Dré agreed, and I noted a brief look of resentment flit across Vince's face before Dré tilted his head up and kissed his partner's neck. "Though nowhere near as fine as my Peach here. And more importantly for you, he's not single."

"Yeah, story of my life," I said darkly and drained the remains of my beer.

"It don't have to be," Viktor reminded me. "What about Kinkaid? He no find anyone yet. Every time his picture in paper he with different boy. He waiting for you?"

"He's not," I shook my head. "He knows I'm with H."

Dré snorted, but before he could respond, Emmett and Greg returned with beers which they distributed to everyone.

"Greg, I didn't get to tell you on the phone. We saw Jasper! He came out for Seth and Garrett's wedding," Emmett announced happily.

"He told us that! I'm so glad all you blokes got to see him," Greg replied, smiling.

"I am sorry we did not get to go to wedding," Viktor said. "We had a game against Chelsea that very day. You give Seth and Garrett big hug from us, yes?"

"I sure will. I can't even tell you how happy we all were to see Jasper. I'm especially glad Edward got to see him," Emmett beamed. I frowned. From everything Jasper ever told me, Edward was bad news.

"He said he ran into Edward at the reception. He said that went much better than he thought it would," Greg's voice was neutral, but I knew him well enough to tell that he was just about as happy to hear this news as I was.

"They went to brunch the next morning too. I talked to Edward afterward and he was guardedly optimistic," Emmett continued, seemingly oblivious to our reactions.

"Is Jasper back with Edward?" I asked point blank.

"No, but we can hope. Edward is the guy Jasper belongs with, whether he knows it or not," Emmett opined. He seemed absolutely convinced that this reunion was a good thing.

"Jasper deserves a good guy," I said, sounding very much like Dré did when he spoke of H.

"Yes, he does, and yes, Edward is," Emmett said, somewhat defensively. "Rick, you have probably heard some stories, which I'm sure are all true, but Edward is not that guy anymore."

I was about to say something about how hard it is for people to change, when Greg said, "Too bad H. still is."

"H.? Do you still see him?" Emmett asked in a way that made it clear he knew everything that happened between me and Jasper, including why we were no longer together.

"Huh," Dré scoffed. "When H. will spare him the time. They were supposed to be together tonight, but H.'s wife made other plans for him."

The reminder of my situation was an instant mood killer. Suddenly I was tired of trying to put on a brave face. H.'s abandonment hurt, and I didn't really care who saw it. "It's our anniversary today." I said for Emmett's benefit, hoping he could understand.

"Huh, anniversary," Dré was snide.

"Tell me about H., Rick," Emmett asked kindly. I looked up at him, surprised at his tone, but I didn't get a chance to reply.

"I'll tell you about H. He's a spineless little wanker. He and Rick were a happy couple in school, or so we all thought. But then H. went right off and did what his family expected of him. Now he's got a wife and two nippers," Dré supplied, making his scorn for H. all too clear.

Emmett nodded his understanding, but then looked at me as if he was waiting for the other part of the story.

"I love him," I said with a shrug. "And he loves me too. He does." I didn't know if I was trying to convince them or myself.

"If only he could act like it," Greg said, sadly.

"He does love me, in his own way. You blokes don't know what he's like, when we cuddle after. He's so sweet and kind," I was determined to defend the man I loved, even if I wasn't sure I believed my own argument.

"I can't listen to this," Dré said with disgust.

"Bugger off then!" I snapped.

"But he's married," Emmett's question sounded more like a statement.

"Yes, he is," I admitted.

"Does she know about you?" Emmett inquired.

"Good God no," Dré provided as I shook my head.

"When and how do you get together?" Emmett probed further. I wondered why he had such an interest in the details, but saw no point in keeping things from him.

"He has it set up that he works late on Thursdays, only he really only works a half day," I explained. "So then he's mine. And as often as he can manage it the company sends him out of town overnight, but really then he's with me too." Like he was supposed to be tonight, I supplied silently.

"So, Rick, and please excuse me if I'm being too forward, but I want to understand you. H. keeps you secret from his wife." Emmett reiterated.

"Yes. He has to," I confirmed.

"Or he could be a man," Greg muttered. I glared at him and he held up his hands in a defensive gesture even as Viktor wrapped his arm around him and kissed his temple.

"Like I said, he's a spineless little wanker who lives a lie," Dré opined.

"Like I said, bugger off!" I spoke harshly, tired of his insults.

"What do you do in the meantime?" Emmett spoke as if he hadn't even heard my friends.

"What can I do? I wait for him, and miss him," I stared down into my beer, despondent again.

"How do you feel about that?" Emmett asked, speaking only to me as he put his arm around my shoulder. I glanced up at him in surprise, but saw only kindness and genuine interest in his expression.

"It hurts," I admitted. "More than I could ever say."

"You just want to hold him," Emmett spoke my thoughts.

"Right," I nodded. I didn't know why this man was being so kind and understanding, but it felt so good to finally have someone listening without judgment, and actually commiserating.

"And wake up next to him. And share your life with him," Emmett continued.

"Exactly!" I looked around. "This Yank could teach you blokes a thing or two about compassion. I'll tell you that!"

"Please," Dré said dismissively, but Emmett completely ignored him. He placed his beer on the table and pulled me into a warm, tight hug. It was like being engulfed in comfort, and I soaked up as much as I could.

"Rick, I'm so sorry for you," Emmett spoke directly into my ear. "I know what it's like to face this and I'm so sorry."

I was taken aback. From what Greg had said, and Emmett confirmed earlier, the American had a partner. They were traveling together openly to the partner's home country in the Middle East, and not for the first time, so I couldn't fathom what he could possibly know about facing the same situation.

"You're very kind, Emmett. Especially to a man you just met, but what do you mean that you know what it's like to face this?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

Emmett inhaled deeply, gave me one last squeeze and let me go.

"My partner is Arabic. The guys met him," he said, pointing to my friends.

"Nasir's a great guy," Greg endorsed.

"He has the warmest eyes and smile. He's just beautiful," Emmett described his partner lovingly.

"If you fancy 'em bone thin," Dré couldn't help tossing in a sarcastic comment.

"I do," Vince announced what everyone already knew.

"I know you do, Peaches," Dré looked up and they shared a kiss.

"His name is Nasir bin Omar al Qasimi," Emmett continued. "He's from the United Arab Emirates. I can say, without reservation, that he is the love of my life. We have lived together, and shared a bed and our lives, for a year and a half. Now his parents have arranged a marriage for him."

"Oh, shit," Greg exclaimed as I cringed.

"And he probably really doesn't have a choice, being from there," Dré concluded.

"We're on our way to the Emirates now to see what we can figure out," Emmett spoke, clearly upset "There is a very real possibility that my situation will end up just like yours, Rick."

"It'll never be exactly the same. H. can't claim to have had no choice. He's just a bloody coward," Dré said harshly.

"Everyone has their reasons for what they do," Emmett said, sounding as defensive as I did every time I had to face this from Dré. Suddenly, even though we couldn't be less alike physically, I felt like I was staring into a mirror. The impulse to save him from my fate was irresistible.

"Emmett, I don't know Nasir and I only just met you, but you seem like a really nice guy. And you sure as shit are an attractive guy. All I can tell you is this," I stopped to compose my thoughts. It wasn't easy, being this honest with the American stranger, in front of my best friends, but it had to be said before he made the mistakes I did. "If you have any self-esteem, any self-respect at all, don't let yourself end up like me. Run. Run as far and as fast as you can, and don't look back."

"That's really good advice, Rick," Greg concurred.

"I wouldn't wish a life like this on anyone," I continued. "I spend more time crying over the man I love, than I do being with him."

"Jesus," Emmett said, and I could tell from his tone he understood exactly what I was saying.

The rest of the night was somber. Greg tried to distract everyone by asking details about the wedding, and Emmett obliged, but I could tell in the back of his mind he was processing my advice. I, too, was thinking about my situation with H., comparing it to what Emmett was going through with Nasir.

Much as I hated to admit it, Dré was right. Though there were similarities, H. did not live in a culture where men had to marry women. Whatever pressures he felt to meet anyone's expectations, they were of his own making. He was the one who arranged his own marriage, without even discussing it with me first. At least Nasir was trying to make the best of a bad situation. H. had always done what he thought was best for him. I was merely an afterthought. For the first time my eyes were wide open and I saw exactly what my friends had been seeing all along, and I hated it. I was in love with a selfish coward, who never had and never would put my needs ahead of his own. I knew this, and yet I stayed with him. I wasn't strong enough to articulate what that made me.