Chapter 23

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Chapter 23: Insight

Talking with Greg helped a little, enough to allow me to have a pleasant evening at home with Ashok. His shopping venture was quite successful and he insisted on cooking yet another fine meal for us, this time lamb chops with a mint yoghurt sauce and a delicious rice pilaf. After dinner we went for a walk around the neighborhood and then watched a movie before going to bed. We'd exhausted my limited supply of condoms, but we made up for it by using our hands and mouths to their best advantage.

My weekend with Ashok had been so happy, it was difficult for me to stop thinking about it even after I got to work Monday morning. It didn't help that, as usual, H. had not tried to reach me in any way, making it impossible for me to know where our relationship stood, much less where it was going. My initial feelings of frustration and helplessness eventually gave way to anger. I recalled Greg's suggestion that my next conversation with H. take place outside the bedroom, but I worried that if I met him at the house that's exactly where we'd end up, and likely before the conversation was finished. It would be far safer to meet him at a neutral location, but I knew that was something he would never agree to unless I gave him no other option, and perhaps not even then. I went back and forth in my thinking, unable to get any work done and becoming more angry with every passing minute, as much with myself for being such a coward as I was with H. for his apparent indifference. Finally I picked up the phone and dialed his number.

"This had better be important, Rick. You know better than to call me in the middle of the bloody day."

I cringed at his cold, angry tone, but it actually helped alleviate some of the guilt I felt about what I'd done with Ashok. If he had treated me with more care and respect, the way one ought to treat the man he supposedly loved, I would have never been susceptible to temptation. Being faithful to him for years earned me nothing but this sort of contempt. It was no wonder I was tempted by a boy who was caring and tender. As much as I felt the need to tell him because he deserved the truth, I maliciously hoped my confession would cause him pain as well. For the first time since he'd seen me with Jasper, he would know what I felt like every time he went home to his wife. Maybe this would finally be his wake up call.

"I need to talk to you. Would you rather I called you at home as you were sitting down to dinner with Ginny and the kids?" I snapped back.

"I'd rather wait until Thursday," he replied, sounding quite incensed.

"I'm sure you would, but I'm through playing by your rules. I mean to see you today, or tomorrow at the latest, and not at your house but somewhere in public, where I can be sure we'll actually talk."

"What? You can't be serious."

"I assure you I'm deadly serious. We're grossly overdue for this conversation. I wanted to do it on Thursday, but you didn't show," I said bitterly.

"What are you talking about? I was there. You're the one who left in a huff."

"Oh, you were there, alright. Showed up with just enough time to get serviced!" I was now beyond anger.

"Lower your voice, for Christ's sake!" he ordered. "Do you want the whole of London to hear you?"

"Maybe I do. Maybe that's the only way I can get you to ever bloody listen." I paused and took a breath, remembering I was at work and forcing myself to calm down. "On second thought, you may be right. I thought it would be more civilized to have a discussion, but what's the bloody point? We can just call this whole fucking mess between us over right now, once and for all."

"What? Wait just a minute. You can't just say that, do that, over the bloody phone!" he sounded outraged, but I found I didn't care. In fact, I found his disbelief almost comical. He really thought he was completely in control and that I would forever just do his bidding and be available whenever he wanted, my own needs never satisfied or even considered.

"I didn't want to do it over the bloody phone," I barked, "but if you can't find time in your busy schedule to talk to me in person, I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Wait," suddenly he became calm. "Are you quite serious? Do you mean to end it? Jesus, Rick, that's not something... Just like that? Out of nowhere? Without even giving me an explanation? I thought you loved me. You can't do this to me."

"Out of nowhere? Are you bloody daft? Have you not been there for the last couple of months when all we've done is argue with each other? I do love you, but I haven't seen any evidence lately that you feel anything for me. You can't even take a few minutes of your time to talk to me on the phone, or meet me any day other than Thursday. Which is fine, H. Really, it's fine. There is nothing left to talk about."

"Rick, be reasonable," he cajoled. "You know the constraints I'm under."

"I know, because for years now your constraints have been my constraints too. But that's done now."

"Wait, wait. Fuck! Where is all this coming from? Two months ago we were fine, and now-"

"Two months ago you prioritized your wife over me again, and it was the last straw. Goddamn it, H., I wanted to end it when I came back from Dubai. You're the one who promised things would change, that you would make more time for me. I gave you a second chance and you've failed miserably."

"It's just the worst timing," he made his usual excuses. "We have these new demanding clients at work and you won't believe the scheme that Ginny came up with-"

"Save the explanations for someone who cares," I interrupted. "I don't need a list of reasons why I'm always your lowest priority. It's enough to know that's what I am."

"That's not true, Ced, though I know it might seem that way right now. I haven't done a good job of showing you how much you mean to me lately, I'll admit it. But let's not throw out everything we have over a few bad weeks."

"You can show me you're serious about making a change by making time to see me today or tomorrow, in some neutral, public place. Otherwise-"

"Let me see what I can work out," he jumped in before I could finish my threat.

"Fine, by all means, see if you can squeeze me in," I said bitterly. “If you can't do that, then there's nothing else to say."

"What am I going to tell Ginny?" he fretted. If he was fishing for sympathy, he found exactly the wrong thing to say.

"I don't care what you tell her. Make something up, or, better yet, tell her the truth. If I have to live my life knowing all about her, it's only fair that she finally learns all about me as well. In fact, maybe I should pick up the phone and tell her myself," I threatened.

"Rick, come on now," he sounded truly scared. "Look, let me make a couple of calls and I'll get back to you. It can't be today, but maybe tomorrow. I'll ring you, all right?"

"Fine," I huffed. "But I'm serious, H. Either we talk tomorrow, or we're over. I've had enough."

I ended the call and leaned back in my seat. My heart ached, but I was relieved too. I had drawn my line in the sand, and I wasn't going to cross it. I'd been his doormat for years, following all his bloody rules, because I thought that's what people who loved their partners did - they accommodated. Except he never accommodated me. Maybe that should have been my clue all along. I was a bloody fool when he showed up on my doorstep after Dubai. He fed me a bunch of empty promises and I ate them up without question. I wouldn't be that gullible again.

As much as I hated having cheated with Ashok, was H. really in a position to criticize? I would treat him the same way he treated me and present him with a take-it-or-leave-it proposition. When we weren't together he'd be with Ginny and I'd be with Ashok. Going forward, we would be on equal footing or we would be over.

I looked at the phone dubiously, wondering if he was actually going to call. I half expected him to ignore my demand, and I half wished he would. If I never met with him, I'd never have to confess anything. And I'd never have to feel guilty for going home and making love with the beautiful boy who waited there with nothing but sweet devotion in his eyes. More importantly, I'd never put Ashok through what H. had put me through. Even though he said he was fine with sharing me, I couldn't help but wonder. I sure as fuck was not all right with H. going home to Ginny all these years. I certainly would have been even less fine with H. going home to another man. No. I would not have stood for that. So how could I ask Ashok to do something I would not? Except that I wasn't asking. He was the one who suggested the arrangement, who wanted to be with me regardless, fully understanding the situation. He was young, but old enough to make that kind of a decision. And I'd never try to hold onto him if he tired of our arrangement and wanted to leave. I didn't know if I could share him with someone else, but at the very least I could let him go.

I wiped my hand over my face. The sheer hypocrisy of my thoughts overwhelmed me. It was ridiculous, really. H. had always been the love of my life. As many times as I tried to live without him, something about him always pulled me back. And yet I could share him, had shared him for nearly four years. It killed me, yes, but I did it. Why, then, was I not able to consider the same with Ashok? What did it mean about the way I felt about him? Did my willingness to let him go if he found someone else mean that I cared about him less than H., or more? And would I really be so cavalier about it? Would I really let him just walk out of my life and move on to someone else without saying a word? Except what choice would I have? If I remained with H., what would I have to offer Ashok to keep him with me as well?

My head was starting to ache and my misery was weighing me down. Then my phone rang. Lost in my thoughts, at first I looked at the phone curiously, the ring sounding strange to my ears. Finally I roused myself and looked at the caller ID, which indicated it was H. I picked up the receiver and greeted him dully.

"I moved some things around, but the earliest I can see you is tomorrow afternoon," he said. "Three o'clock? Will that work?"

"That's fine," I agreed. "Where?"

"I don't know, Rick. I know you said we can't meet at the house, but there's nowhere else private where we can talk. People know me all over London - what if someone sees?"

"Oh, yes, that's right. Heaven forbid you were ever seen with me," I replied with bitter sarcasm. "Perhaps you can drive us out to the country? We can stop by the side of the road and talk in the middle of some empty field, or maybe go into a wood. Or wait, there are some old Roman ruins on the outskirts of St. Alban's. Should we meet there?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rick. It's hard enough to explain why I'm going to be gone all afternoon. I can't drive into the country!"

I was stunned into silence. I had thought the suggestion ridiculous when I made it, but not because of his time constraints. I was quickly realizing that this was pointless. I absolutely refused to talk about Ashok in H.'s home - it would be hard enough to have that conversation on neutral ground. And there was no way we could get a hotel room somewhere - I knew well enough where that would lead and how it would turn out. If he refused to meet me in public, well...

"What about Hampstead Heath?" he asked

"I'm sorry?" I didn't believe I could have heard him correctly.

"Can we go to Hampstead Heath? Not the West Heath, of course, but the area's huge. I'm sure we can find some place away from other people to have a discussion."

I nearly laughed. I had been joking when I mentioned going out to the wilderness. Trust H. to find the one piece of near-wilderness left near London and suggest it as an alternative. But at least he was willing to meet and talk, and wasn't that what I had asked for?

"Fine," I said, resigned. "Three o'clock tomorrow at Hampstead Heath overground station. Is that safe enough? Can we walk over together?"

"Yeah, all right," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll see you then."

"Right. Until tomorrow."

I hung up and stared at the phone again. Now that the meeting was planned, I was overcome with dread. I had no idea how it would all go. What would H. say? How would he react? All I could do was wait another 28 hours and figure things out then.

I arrived home that evening drained and with an aching head. As usual, Ashok had dinner waiting. He'd made lentil stuffed tomatoes with a cucumber in yoghurt sauce side salad - a perfect light meal for a summer night. Sensing my tension, Ashok gave me another foot rub after dinner and then settled down with me to watch the telly. Once again we somehow stopped on a cooking show, which made me recall some investigations I’d made into culinary programs in London.

"You really are an amazing cook, Ashok. You've learned a great deal just from watching these shows and reading magazines, but you could learn even more. I wonder if you'd consider going to culinary school to become a professional chef?"

"Culinary School?" Clearly this was a new concept for him. "A school just for cooking?"

"Exactly!" I affirmed. "I looked at some programs. You might be able to go straight away, but I think it would be a good idea if you sat for your GCSE, at least in English, and maybe in Maths too, but there are programs that can have you prepared to sit for those in a year. I'm sure you'd catch on quickly and the other guys and I could tutor you if necessary. After that you could apply to a culinary program. Le Cordon Bleu has a London campus. And there's also Leith's School of Food and Wine."

Ashok looked at me excitedly. "Do you really think they would let me in?"

“Absolutely. It's easy to see you have a passion for cooking, and you're quite good at it already. I'm sure you'd ace your entrance interviews."

"Oh, Rick, I would like that more than anything!" he gushed.

"When Greg and Viktor come back from Bulgaria, we'll investigate that a little further. And we'll talk to Dré to see what his father could do to get you a student visa. That should be less complicated than a work permit."

We spent the rest of the evening perusing websites of culinary schools, with Ashok barely able to contain his excitement. I suggested that he could take some cookery classes that were geared towards the general public even while he was studying for his GCSEs. I thought that would help him get familiar with the instructors and their teaching styles plus give him advance training in some techniques before he became a full time student. He could not have been more pleased, and his enthusiasm managed to make me forget all about H. and the meeting scheduled for the following day.

Unfortunately, my anxiety returned as soon as I arrived at work that Tuesday. The anticipation of the afternoon's meeting was too much of a distraction for me to do anything productive. I did some filing, pushed papers around and answered a few e-mails, but otherwise I remained focused exclusively on how I would tell H. what happened and wondering what his reaction might be. I watched the clock impatiently, waiting for it to get late enough so that I could legitimately justify having to leave for my supposed doctor's appointment. At a quarter to two I put everything away, and at two o'clock on the dot I headed out. I reached Hampstead Heath station with time to spare. The extra wait added to my already heightened nerves. I stepped out of the station and began to pace. Time crawled, and there wasn't even a pub close enough for me to have a pint to take the edge off. Though maybe, I considered, that was better. I needed to be completely sober for this talk. H. had an easy enough time manipulating me when I had all my wits about me - no need to handicap myself further with an alcohol addled brain.

Frustrated, I began to count my paces, keeping a count of a hundred between glances at my watch. My anger mounted as time passed and trains came and went with no sign of H. At five minutes past the hour I gritted my teeth. At ten minutes past the hour I'd just about had enough. I was damned if I was going to put up with a repeat of previous Thursday, especially since I wasn't even waiting in the relative comfort of his secret house. I told him if he didn't find time for me by today we were done, and I decided that if he still hadn't arrived on the next train, I would go home to Ashok and never talk or even think of H. again. When the train pulled to a stop I stared at the station exit as a few mid-day commuters filed out, still with no sign of him. I huffed out the breath I'd been holding. It was time for me to go home.

Curiously, though the fact that he hadn't showed hurt, it was more a blow to the ego than the heart. Clearly he hadn't taken me seriously, but then he almost never had before. Now, though, for the first time, I wasn't just walking away from him towards nothing of my own. Now there was someone waiting for me at home, someone who did take me seriously. Someone who valued me, cared for me, actually fucking wanted to be with me. I knew I could live without H. I had done it before. But this time I didn't have to do it alone.

I took a deep breath and turned towards the station, reaching for my wallet to take out my Oyster. That's when I saw him, striding through the exit, looking around frantically until his eyes rested on me.

"Rick!" he exclaimed. "Bloody hell, there you are. I thought you'd be waiting on the platform. I know I'm late, but not late enough for you to have bloody left yet. I was just coming to look out here before I rang you."

"I was here, H., on time. A few minutes early, actually. And I didn't want to stay on the platform because what would security think about me pacing back and forth inside the station for no apparent reason, for who the fuck knew how long? Glad you decided to finally show up," I was angry and I let it show.

"Let's not do this here," he hissed and began walking towards the heath. "I'd cleared my calendar yesterday for this and then Ginny made an appointment for us at the solicitors' without checking with me first. She's pissed off at me as it is, because I left there early. This was the best I could do."

"What do you expect from me, sympathy? If she made the appointment without talking to you first, then you should have told her you had something else to do and had her reschedule. I'm sick and fucking tired of always having to take a back seat to Ginny's plans."

"Right, of course. I should tell her to take my schedule into consideration? The same way you took it into consideration when you phoned me yesterday and told me I'd better meet you by the end of the day today or else?" he snapped. "Maybe you can explain why I should expect my wife to be more considerate than my lover. The whole point of being with you is that you're supposed to be more loving and supportive than she is."

His words gave me so much pause, I literally stopped in mid-stride. I didn't know what to say in response, or even how to feel about what he'd said. On the one hand, it made sense. Why have a bit on the side if it's as bad as or worse than the main course. On the other hand, while he'd just spelled out his expectations of me, there was no thought about my expectations and needs. Wasn't my reward for not having him full time supposed to be his loving and sweet disposition, him spoiling me in the time we had together, him letting me know how much he missed me while we were apart? I supposed I'd seen glimpses of that, on rare occasions, perhaps after an exceptionally good fuck, but it had been a while, and those times had always been few and far between. I swayed a little at the realization that this relationship was apparently not what either of us were looking for.

"Rick?" his voice sounded far off and muffled as I remained lost in thought. What the fuck was I fighting so hard for here? When we were young we loved each other and thought we satisfied each other's every desire, but with time things had clearly changed. I still loved him, at least I was fairly certain I did, and I wanted to believe he still loved me, but was there anything more to us than that? And was love enough?

"Rick, are you all right?" I heard more concern in his voice and felt his hand on my arm. "Ced?"

The sound of the nickname, that fucking nickname that I'd only ever allowed him to use, finally snapped me out of my thoughts. "I'm okay," I said quickly. "Sorry. Let's keep going. We're almost there."

I looked up ahead to see the edge of the park. We headed towards it like it was a magic bubble that would swallow us up and make us invisible to the rest of the world. And we needed to be invisible, because to be seen in my company was, apparently, a fate worse than death. It had always bothered me. His inability to acknowledge the fact that he was gay had been the source of nearly every fight and separation. Now, though, it took on a different tone. I realized that not only did he want me to be invisible to the outside world, he wanted me to be invisible to him, except when he wanted me. Only when he wished for me was I supposed to pop up for his pleasure like some sort of genie out of a bottle. Well, I could do that. I had been doing that. But no matter what H. wanted, I didn't disappear during the time I wasn’t with him. I was still around, even when he chose not to see me. It was time I stopped acting invisible in my own damn life.

We finally stepped onto the heath, following a path deeper into the interior. We passed mothers pushing prams, teens lounging lazily in the grass and couples strolling hand in hand. Walking silently, both of us still dressed in our business suits, briefcases hanging off our shoulders, H. and I made for a pretty unusual sight. It was a good thing no one here was likely to know either of us, because I couldn't think of a place where we'd stand out more. H. must have thought himself very clever when he picked this spot, but he forgot it was the middle of summer. The rare but intense summer sun beat down on us mercilessly, forcing us to seek tree shade whenever possible as we walked and walked without saying a word, waiting to finally get far enough to be away from the casual passersby. After close to half an hour we finally reached a point where we hadn't seen another person for at least five minutes, giving H. the assurance he needed. He veered off the path and over to behind a clump of tall shrubbery to make himself yet more comfortable, until he was finally able to speak.

"What’s this all about, Rick? You call out of the blue demanding a meeting, in a public place, no less, saying we need to talk. I practically had to work miracles to do this, but since you gave me no choice I'm here, ready to listen. What the bloody hell is going on?"

He may have been ready to listen, but I wasn't quite ready to confess. I couldn't very well just blurt out "I cheated on you with the kid we brought back from the Middle East who was supposed to be sleeping on my sofa but ended up in my bed instead." Nervously and losing most of the bravado I'd worked up on the walk over, I bit my lip and looked down at the ground.

"Come on, Rick, this is ridiculous. I'm going to have my bollocks handed to me on a platter later tonight for leaving the solicitor's before the meeting was over, and for what? To hear the bloody leaves rustle in the wind? Why the fuck are we here? What's so important that it couldn't wait until Thursday? Or is this some sort of a power play? Is that it? You wanted to see if you could order me around just like she does? Well, here I am so there you are, then. Are we done?" His voice lost none of its venom. If anything, he was getting more belligerent.

"What were you doing at the solicitors, then? At the last minute?" I changed the subject to stall for time.

"That's none of your fuckin-" he started to say and I reeled. I distinctly remembered one Thursday afternoon when we were lying in bed together, cuddling, our arms wrapped around each other, as he started to tell me about a financial issue he was dealing with at home. I stopped him and said his finances were his private business and he didn't have to share them with me. He silenced me with a kiss and told me that I was the only one he could talk to about anything, that he had no secrets from me. Apparently that had changed as well. I turned, because tears were rapidly filling my eyes and I didn't want him to see how much his words had hurt. He was right, after all. It really was none of my fucking business. Nothing in his life was my business. I was just his Thursday afternoon fuck. A service provider. No different than a masseuse or a personal trainer or a fucking barber. He didn't owe me any explanations, any information. Hell, he didn't even owe me any payment. The fucking tears fell and I swiped at them angrily with my jacket sleeve. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I began to walk back to the path. There was no point to this conversation. The way he clearly felt about me, my confession would be pointless. I could see, feel and hear how little I meant to him even when he assumed I'd been faithful. He'd chuck me over in an instant once he heard about Ashok. Better to walk away and never suffer the humiliation. At least this way I was still left with a shred of dignity.

"Rick, where are you going?" he yelled. "What the fuck? Rick?" I heard a thump as the Armani briefcase I'd bought him hit the ground and then his angry footfalls as he ran after me. He reached to grip my arm sharply and forced me to stop, yanking me back and spinning me to face him. For a man who was considerably shorter than I was, he was surprisingly strong.

"What the hell is this, Rick?!" he shouted angrily as I unsuccessfully tried to turn my face away. He gripped my chin and forced me to look straight at him. That's when he saw my tears, and his whole demeanor changed. "Ced? What's wrong? What's the matter?"

The concern in his voice was my undoing. What little reserve I'd managed to hang onto was gone. Tears poured from my eyes and I let out a painful sob. "Let me go," I choked out. "I thought talking might help, but there's no point. I'm sorry I interfered with your appointment and that I thought there was anything left to salvage between us. You must think I'm the biggest arsehole in the universe, because you couldn't have been plainer over the last few months and I just didn't get it. I see it now, though, so after today you won't have to worry about me messing up your life and your schedules, or asking about things that are none of my business."

I tried to break out of his grasp so I could walk away, but his grip on my upper arm was firm and unyielding.

"Wait just a second. What are you saying? You call me to tell me that we need to talk and threaten to leave me if I don't make time, and now I've made time and am here and you're bloody leaving me anyway? You can't do that. You can't just walk away without telling me why. You can't just leave me. I need you!"

I cried harder, but though my tears I appreciated the irony. Even in his apparent desperation, it was still all about his needs. Then, just as I was making peace with my decision, he let go of me for a second, only to pull me into his arms.

"Ced, I don't know what this is about, but please, you have to at least tell me and let me fix it. I know the last couple of months have been crap, and I will make it up to you, I swear. It's just there's so much shit going on at work, and then Ginny's got it into her head that she's going to turn Berkeley Castle into a luxury hotel and move the family out there-that's what the solicitor meeting today was all about.- On top of all that we've been fighting, and you were out of the country, and I feel like my entire life is just spiraling out of control. All I know is that I love you and we haven't been together properly in so long and now you say you want to leave me without even telling me why? I can't handle it, Ced. I can't lose you. You're the only good thing in my life. Being with you is the only balm for my heart and soul. Whatever it is that's making you feel this way, I can fix it. I will fix it. Just give me a chance. Please, Ced. Talk to me."

He peppered my face with kisses as he talked and kept his arms firmly around me. Despite myself, I came undone at the sincerity and panic in his voice. I desperately wanted to have the resolve to walk away, but I simply couldn't muster it. I still didn't know if love was enough to keep us together, but it was enough to keep me rooted in place at that moment.

"How could you not know, Al? How could you possibly not know?" I whispered. "You can't be that blind."

I felt him stiffen a little as he held me. "I'm not blind, Ced," he said defensively. "Obviously I realize we'd had a bit of a rough patch..."

"A rough patch?" I was incredulous. "You're having me on, Al. We've barely had a civil conversation in the last two months, much less any loving, intimate interaction. I'm so bloody tired of explaining our relationship to others when I no longer understand it myself. You say you love and need me, but you haven't acted like it lately."

"Why do you need to explain our relationship to anyone? It's none of their bloody business," he took offense. "It's Greg and Dré filling your head with this nonsense, trying to turn you against me again. I knew it! They never understood what we have and they never will. Gods, I wish you would stop talking to them."

"Stop talking to them? Why? So I could be completely alone and miserable? Is that what you want for me? They're my friends, H. They used to be your friends too, remember? Before you decided that you couldn't associate with any of us on a regular basis. Before you decided to chuck me so you could get married," I was bitter and sounded it. "They care about me, H. They want me to be happy. Which these days, frankly, is more than I can say for you."

"That's not fair, Rick. Of course I care about you. Of course I want you to be happy."

"Really? You have a funny way of showing it," I pulled away from him, some of my anger returning. It was all so easy for him to say, but it was all empty promises and lies. "How the hell am I supposed to be happy when I've basically been alone for the last few years? It's all well and good for you. You have a wife at home to see to your needs. But I have needs too, H. It's been weeks since the last time we've been together!"

"Now wait just a bloody minute. I'm not the one who up and left the country with no warning, then ignored my calls so I had to take a day to beg you to talk to me. And I'm not the one who then had to work the following week during our designated meeting time. So at least three of those weeks were not my fault!"

"At least when I needed to skip a meeting I gave you advanced notice, gave you an option to reschedule" I snapped. "I didn't just show up on your doorstep, did I? Sorry, but you don't get a pass for that week."

"How was I supposed to arrange it in advance when you wouldn't take my bloody calls?" he roared. "And while we're at it, let's just talk about what happened there, shall we? You up and left the country to bring back some bloody Arab and wanted to stash him in my home, in my personal space that no one is supposed to know about, and is the only place where you and I can be together. And when I refused, like any sane person would, you hung up on me and cut off communication so I had to camp out on your doorstep to even see you, like a damn vagrant or a bill collector. Then, when you finally showed up, you weren't even alone - you had your little desert rat with you. Jesus. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"Stop!" I warned him.

"Stop what?" I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about.

"Stop being the racist arsehole your uncle brought you up to be. Ashok's Indian, even you couldn’t have missed that, not that it even matters. He's a sweet Indian kid whose partner was murdered in cold blood because he was mistaken for another gay man. He has no one. His family considered him a financial burden so they sent him away when he was still a child to be a servant in another country. He thought he got lucky when he fell in love and even that was taken away from him. He was left alone in a country where being gay is punishable by death, if the accused even makes it to trial and isn't just shot in the head by the side of the road like his partner was. Can't you have some compassion?"

"You're such a fucking bleeding heart, Rick. He's not the only one in the world who doesn't have a family. He's not the only one who has to live in hiding," his voice was laced with contempt, but I could hear the pain he was trying to bury underneath.

For a moment I felt guilty. I knew his life had been difficult. Losing his parents when he was just a baby, growing up with his mother's contemptible sister and her family, being made to feel like a charity case until he later found out he was titled and the heir to a great fortune. And that fortune turned out to be curse too, because he was the end of the line, so the history, the family legacy, all rested on him. He was the last Lord Potter, the savior of his ancestry, and he would fail in his task unless he married and had sons who could inherit it all and continue the legacy. At least that had been the excuse then, when he told me that he'd asked Ginny to marry him.

Even back then, while I understood on some level, I wasn't able to accept it. It hurt like hell that he had chosen a family he never knew over me, when I'd been willing to do just about anything for him. But then I went back to him anyway, didn't I? I went back like a man with no pride or self-respect and I accepted scraps of his time while Ginny gave him an heir and a spare. And what did I get in return? Anger, contempt, bullying, and all without an ounce of compassion. And while it was bad enough when he acted that way towards me, I couldn't take his contempt of Ashok. The fact that after all he'd been through, H. could not gather even a little sympathy for the plight of the sweet boy who'd come to mean so much to me in such a short period of time, made me angrier than anything he could have ever said to or about me.

"How long are you going to walk around with all that self-pity and the giant chip on your shoulder, huh, Harry?" I spat out and watched his eyes widen in shock at my use of his full name, which we both knew he hated. "For fuck's sake, I know how hard you had it growing up, but that's over now, isn't it? Now you're one of the wealthiest men in all of England and your life can be whatever you make of it. And what have you made of it? A mockery! You live a lie for no reason, no reason at all. I don't know what happened to you, but somewhere in all the years that I've known you, the boy I fell in love with disappeared and was replaced by..." I paused, unable to speak the contemptible words that crowded in my brain. "By this," I finished lamely, gesturing at him with my hand. His resulting scowl made him look mean and ugly, proving my very point.

"I've been waiting," I said with a defeated sigh. "Waiting for some sign that I still mean something to you, that we still mean something to you. That night we talked after I came back from the Emirates, you were so different. You convinced me that things would get better. But obviously you meant none of it."

I turned away from him, shocked by the words that were coming out of my mouth. When I called him, asking him for this meeting, I hadn't intended to say any of this. I wasn't even thinking any of it, overwhelmed by the guilt of having cheated on him. Now, I realized, I was actually thinking about finishing things with him, yet again, and I saw no reason to even tell him about what happened between me and Ashok.

"It's time I faced what's been obvious for a long time to everyone but me," I heard myself say. "I'm no different to you than some trick you'd pick up at a club, only I'm discreet and, up until now, I've followed your rules and made myself available whenever it was convenient for you. I thought you loved me, but I can see now it was an illusion I built up in my head. My eyes are open now and I won't be your fuck toy anymore. Goodbye H."

I didn't turn back to look at him as I spoke. When I finished I hung my head low and started to walk away again. It should have been a proud moment, a moment when I broke out from under whatever enchantment I'd been under that kept me chained to him all my life, but I felt no triumph, only emptiness. It was a Pyrrhic victory to finally realize the man you thought was the love of your life never cared about you at all.

"Ced, please don't leave me," I heard him sob desperately behind me and I stopped in my tracks. "Not again, Ced, please."

I wanted to ignore him, wanted to be impervious to his pleading, to the hold he had over me, but my feet refused to move.

"Please, Ced. I know I can be a bastard, that I've been a bastard lately, but don't you understand? You're the only good thing in my life. You're the only one who can make me forget every other misery. I'm never happy except when I'm with you, and the longer I am without you the more unbearable I get. I can never be myself, Rick. Not at home, not at work, not with anyone else, and it just gets to be too much without any relief."

"So you take it out on me?" I said as I slowly turned to face him, again overwhelmed with sadness. "You pretend to be this professional, happy, straight family man for everyone else and you lose it with me? Do you even hear what you're saying? It's like you're trying to make it easier for me to leave."

"NO!" he raked his hands through his hair and tugged on it in frustration. Even from afar I could see he was pulling with all his strength, his face contorted with pain. "Please don't say that anymore. I don't mean to take it out on you, it's just that with you I know I can be myself and it all comes out."

I shook my head. "I love you, H. I always have. But I won’t be your emotional punching bag. Not anymore," I said.

"You're not!" he denied vehemently. "That's not how I see you."

"It may not be how you see me, but it is how you treat me. I've taken all I can."

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I will change, I swear. I'll be better. I just need... I need you. I need to be with you. Please, Ced, let's go back to the house. Let's make love. I'll make you feel so good. I know you need it too. Please."

It was so hard to resist him when he was like this. I couldn't deny that I wanted him. I remembered how much I loved looking into his eyes as he was moving inside me, filling me, bringing us both to orgasm. But I wasn't as desperate for it as I usually was when he suggested it. My repeated betrayals with Ashok satisfied my physical needs, and some emotional ones too. And I knew even if I agreed to go back to the Grimmauld house with him, I had to tell him about Ashok first.

Lost in thought, I didn't realize he'd moved towards me until he grabbed me into a desperate embrace and pulled me into a hard kiss. Unprepared for the onslaught, I grimaced when our teeth mashed together and resisted when he tried to push his tongue into my mouth. Even as his hands were roving over my back and arse, I braced my hands against his chest and pushed him back.

"Stop!" I said forcefully. "This is exactly why I didn't want to meet at the house. This is what always happens. It's your solution to every problem. I know you're a good lover, H. I know you can make me forget nearly everything when you're inside me. But even though it feels like enough at the time, it's not. I need more than that."

He stood back and stared at me in disbelief. Then suspicion crept into his eyes.

"This is quite different for you, Rick, isn't it?" he challenged.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"This sudden ability to resist your physical urges. We haven't been together in weeks, and yet you'd rather talk than make love? That's never happened before."

The guilt came back in full force, and I felt myself start to flush. I looked at the ground, unable to look him in the eye.

"This whole arrangement, talking in public, it wasn't about me at all, was it?" he sensed he had an advantage and he pressed it. "What's going on, Rick? What did you really need to talk to me about?"

It was my turn to sigh and run my hand through my hair in frustration at how quickly he'd been able to turn the tables on me. But then he was right. I did ask him to meet me to tell him what happened. And, I reminded myself, to tell him that if he wanted things between us to continue, Ashok would be part of the deal.

"It wasn't all about you," I conceded. "But that was a part of it. I mean, if you hadn't been treating me the way you had been, I probably wouldn't have..."

"What did you do?" his voice was so cold I felt a shiver go through me despite the ambient summer heat.

"I didn't plan it, H. It just happened. He was hurting and needed comfort and I needed to feel wanted," I explained weakly.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he realized that I wasn't denying his suspicions. "You fucked him, didn't you? After all your denials, you went and fucked that little sofa surfer."

I cringed again, "He's not..."

"The fuck he isn't. That's not a racist slur, Rick. It's a statement of fact. He's a homeless refugee, for fuck’s sake, and I just bet he's really grateful for you taking him in. How many times did you take him in, by the way? And is it true what they say about Asians having tiny dicks? Was it even any good? How could you?"

"I told you, I didn't plan it. It was just that he was so lonely without his partner, and he wanted someone to hold him at night, so he started sleeping with me, that was all."

"You're trying to tell me you arranged for all this," he swept his hand around to indicate the whole of the heath, "because you let him sleep next to you? How gullible do you think I am?"

"That's not what I was saying. You didn't let me finish."

"Oh, I see. So there is more? Of course, there is! By all means, finish. I can't wait to hear the rest," he said sarcastically.

"One night," I continued painfully, "He asked me to touch him. He'd never been with anyone other than his partner, and I think he just needed some comfort, some physical affection. We, um, we exchanged hand jobs. And then you didn't call and I hadn't talked with you or seen you and..."

"And you fucked." he finished icily.

"No," I denied. "But we sucked each other off. And I felt horrible about it. I was going to tell you, last Thursday. I wanted to tell you everything, but then you didn't show until the last minute, and when you did, all you wanted was to..." I couldn't even say it. My stomach churned at the memory.

"So you haven't let him fuck you?" he asked. I could tell he didn't completely believe it, but his voice held hope.

"No," I shook my head. "He hasn't fucked me. But he's a bottom, so he wouldn't, would he?"

His eyes widened with understanding.

"So did you fuck him?"

I put my hands over my eyes. This was awful. I remembered going through this with Jasper, vowing never to be in that position again. Yet here I was. Confessing. Again. Asking for forgiveness. Again.

"I wasn't going to. It wasn't planned," I said desperately willing him to understand.

"Right. Of course. Your dick just accidentally found its way into his arsehole. Happens to people every day. Perfectly understandable," he taunted.

"Look, I don't keep condoms in my flat, since I never have need of them there, do I? And I wasn't about to be unsafe with him, so when he asked I told him no," I explained. "But last Thursday, at your place, I really needed you. I was hoping it would be like old times, remember? If we hadn't seen each other for a while we wouldn't even make it to the bedroom, we'd sometimes never make it out of the foyer. So I grabbed a couple of condoms from upstairs and put them in my pocket to wait for you in the living room. And then you know what happened."

"So you went home and fucked him to what, spite me? Get back at me for being late? What kind of a man does that, Rick? Did you even tell him that you were just using him? Did you even tell him about me?

I blanched. I had a lot to apologize for, but I'd done none of the things he'd just accused me of, and the fact that he thought I could have done those things hurt more than I could have imagined.

"Believe it or not, H., not all the decisions I make are about you. And no, to answer your question. I did not do any of that. I didn't go home from your place that night precisely so I wouldn't even be tempted to do any of that. Instead, I went to Admiral Duncan and tried to drown my sorrows. By the end of the night I was so pissed I couldn't stand straight. I probably wouldn't have been able to find my way home. You want to know how I did get home? Ashok was worried about me. That sweet kid, who knows all about you and us, by the way, was worried when I didn't get home when I said I would, but he didn't want to call me because he knew how long it had been since I'd seen you, and he didn't want to interrupt something between us. So he called Greg, who by the way was in Austria, seeing his husband for the first time in weeks. And Greg took the time to call Vince who came out and made sure I got home. My friends, who knew nothing about our row, made sure I was okay. You, my lover, didn't even call. Not that night, not the next day, not over the weekend. How much time would it have taken to slip away to the bathroom and dial my number?"

"Maybe it's a good thing I didn't dial that number. Wouldn't want to interrupt whatever it is you had going on with your live in boy toy. I suppose this story was supposed to make me feel guilty and make me forget what you did with another man? Well, I’m afraid it didn’t work."

"I'm trying to explain what happened, H. What do you want me to say? You want a confirmation of all the terrible things you think of me? I won’t give you that. Yes, I did sleep with another man, but it wasn't to spite you. I slept with him because I wanted to be with someone who actually cared about me, for a change. Someone who actually made me a priority."

"Of course he's going to  make you his priority," H. scoffed. "Why wouldn't he? You're the one who gave him a roof over his head and pays for everything. Of course he's going to do everything he can to keep you happy."

"Really? Just like Ginny does everything to make you happy? After all, you're the one who keeps the roof over her head and pays for everything. And she’s all sweetness and light out of her immense gratitude, I’m sure. That must be why you’re in such a great mood all the time."

He was taken aback for a moment. "That's completely different," he choked out.

"The only difference I can see between her and Ashok is that you haven't been honest with her about me. Are you trying to tell me that in the time we've been apart you haven't slept with your wife?"

"No, I won't try to tell you that. But as you so aptly pointed out, she's my wife, not some diseased foreign stray I took in off the streets. And besides, you know it's different with Ginny. It's just a chore, something I have to do. And you knew damn well that was the arrangement when we got back together."

"When we started, the arrangement was that I could see anyone else I wanted when we weren’t together. You’re the one who changed the arrangement and I think it's time to change it back," I said in a raised voice. "It's time to even things out a little. You stay with Ginny and I'll be with Ashok, and Thursday afternoons we'll be together. Nothing has to change for you."

"That is completely unacceptable, Diggory. I am not going to share you with another man."

"So only you get to have your cake and eat it too? For how long, H.? You want me to stay happy with a few hours of your time each week forever? I don't know how I've done it as long as I have. It's been four long years with nothing but my hands and a few toys for company when I'm not with you and I've had enough. Up until a couple of weeks ago I've been completely faithful to you the entire time. Which, by the way, is more than you can say to me and Ginny. But now Ginny's given you what you needed. The Potter legacy is safe. It's time for you to man up and leave her. And if you don't have the balls to do that, then I need to make changes in my life."

"What are you saying, Ced? That after knowing this kid for less than a month, you're going to choose him over me?"

I didn't answer. In all fairness, it was a rather outrageous proposition. But then, no matter who I was with, I wouldn't have known or loved them as long as I had loved him. So by his logic, I could never leave him. I furrowed my brow as I tried to think of a response until one finally came to me.

"I'm not really choosing him over you, H. I'm choosing me over you. I know you're not happy in your marriage, but no one forced you to go down that road. You can have me, all of me, right now. All you have to do is tell me you're ready to leave her to be with me, openly, and I'm yours."

Even as I was saying the words, I felt and heard the lack of conviction. I paused, puzzled. Not long before everything I had just spoken would have been completely true. Now, however, I found myself questioning how I would handle the situation with Ashok if H. decided to leave Ginny. I had been completely honest with Ashok from the start, and he knew how I felt about H., but I was no longer sure those feelings were the same. At the very least, they weren't as strong. It was as if the way H. had treated me left a crack in my heart, a crack that Ashok managed to fill and patch up. No matter what I tried to tell H. or myself, there was more than sex between Ashok and me. As Greg made me admit, we had made love. It had been meaningful, fulfilling and deep, and I wasn't sure I could just give it up.

H. must have sensed something, because all of a sudden his tone and demeanor changed. In an instant, his belligerent, accusatory outrage was replaced with soft, soothing conciliation. He walked up to me, lifted my briefcase off my shoulder and placed it on the ground, took my hand and asked me to sit. Still a bit shell shocked and lost in my own surprising thoughts, I followed his suggestion and settled on the ground beside him. It was probably a good thing, as the nature of my realizations had me reeling, enough so that when he put his arm around me and pulled me close, I gratefully sank into his side and rested my head on his shoulder.

"You know it's not that simple, Ced," he explained patiently. "It's not just about me and Ginny. It's about the boys too. If I left them and their mother to be with you, can you imagine the scandal? I can't do that to them, not when they're so young. They wouldn't understand and they're at such impressionable ages. You know Ginny would turn them against me. I can't lose my kids. You understand, don't you?"

I didn't answer, because there was no way to answer that negatively without sounding like a complete prick. Besides, I understood all too well. I understood perfectly that, as he had his entire life, he was placing his needs and the needs of his family ahead of mine.

"Look, I think I see what's happening here," he continued. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I see now that this is not your fault. It's all Greg and Dré - they're behind this. I should have realized sooner. They've been trying to get you to leave me for years, haven't they? And this was their perfect opportunity. It's no coincidence that the kid ended up staying with you, even though both of them have spare rooms in their flat and you don't in yours. They orchestrated all of this to put temptation in your way, and I bet they even encouraged you to sleep with the kid, didn't they?"

I stayed silent, but felt a twinge of guilt when I realized he was right, at least in part. Greg and Dré didn't actively encourage me to sleep with Ashok, but they also didn't discourage me, and they sure helped place temptation right in my path. My silence must have been enough confirmation, because H. continued, even more emboldened.

"Ced, they've never understood what you and I share. They don't get how much we love each other and how all the times we've gotten back together over the years show that we're meant for each other. They're trying to put ideas in your head, trying to tear us apart because they can't stand how strong our love is, even though we don't have a conventional relationship like they do. It's just jealousy, Ced. You know Greg's always hated me. He'd do anything to come between us. Hell, this isn't the first boyfriend he's tried to import into this country to distract you."

He had been very convincing, and I almost started to believe in what he was telling me, until he mentioned Jasper. It was one thing to accuse Greg and Dré of orchestrating the situation with Ashok. It was quite another to paint it in the same light as what happened between me and Jasper. I knew damn well Greg hadn't asked Jasper to come to London to interfere in my relationship with H. After all, at the time I had no relationship with H. He'd gone and married Ginny even though I told him that would be the end of us and he'd had no regrets, at least not until he saw me happy with Jasper at the theater that night.

In a sudden moment of clarity, I realized that H. might have never called me to talk if he hadn't seen with his own eyes that I'd moved on and was actually happy without him. I pulled away from him and sat straight, shrugging against his attempts to pull me back. I thought back to what happened that day, in the hotel, and I began to suspect it had all been a setup. The story about seeing someone he knew in the bar was undoubtedly false, merely an excuse to get me up into the room where he could play out the seduction. And like a fool, I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. I threw away a relationship with a man who genuinely cared about me and wanted nothing more than for us to share a happy life together, in exchange for literally minutes of H.'s time. And now he was asking me to do it all over again. For the first time I saw that jealousy played a vital part in our relationship, but it wasn't Greg's jealousy - it was H.'s. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that he had always taken my love for him for granted, and the only times he'd ever really treated me well was when I showed signs of being happy with other men.

"I know this arrangement, only a few hours a week, has been difficult for you," he was speaking again, though with less confidence now that I refused to allow him to hold me. "It's been difficult for me too, you know that. But this deal that Ginny is hell bent on with Berkeley Castle, that may work out in our favor. She wants us to move out there with the boys, but I won't be able to commute from Berkeley to London. So I'll be in town during the week without the family, and we'll be able to spend all that time together. Just imagine it, Rick. We'll be able to spend night after night in each other's arms."

He was painting a pretty picture, and had my mind not just made the leap that it had, I might have been convinced to overlook the details. But even as he laid out his idyllic plans, I began to notice the cracks. H. had enough money that he didn't need to work, and Ginny would be all too quick to point this out.

"What if she wants you to quit your job and stay with them in Berkeley?" I challenged.

"I'll tell her it's not an option," he replied confidently. I snorted in disbelief.

"You're trying to tell me that after years of never saying no to your wife about anything, suddenly you're going to stand up and fight for your right to live apart from her and your kids in order to work in London? And in the meantime, what? We just go on as before? How long before the castle renovations will be finished?"

"I'm not sure," he equivocated.

"But it will be at least several months, right? If not years."

"It won't be years," he protested, but he couldn't deny the other. All at once, the future he laid out crystallized in my mind. He really was demanding that we continue just as we had for years, on the off chance that some months down the road he might grow a pair and actually stand up to his wife. Not to divorce her, though, because of course that would be too much to ask. No, at most what he was willing to offer is some clandestine arrangement where we could be together a few nights a week. Never on the weekends, though. He would continue to spend those with his family while I would be left to entertain myself, either alone or a gooseberry to my friends. As the selfishness of his plan fully set in, I was filled with such anger I had to stand up and walk away just to get more distance from the man who claimed to love me in words, but demonstrated nothing but disdain with his actions.

"Ced?" He asked uncertainly, scrambling up to his feet behind me. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I've been a blind fool for much too long, H.," I said. "I'm thinking it's time we go our separate ways, for good."

"What? You can't mean that. Haven't you heard a word I said?"

"For once, I've heard every word you said. And a lot you didn't say, too."

"So that's it? You're just going to give up on us? All those proclamations of love, those were just lies? It's so easy for you to walk away?"

"Don't you dare!" I nearly screamed as I advanced on him, poking my index finger into his chest. "Don't you dare minimize the sacrifices I've made over the years to be with you. Don't you dare question my love for you. You have no right! Not after you threw my love in my face and went on to get married. Not after I gave up so much for you since then, hardly getting anything in return. It's time for you to start making the hard choices. How easy is it for you to walk away? I gave you a choice. We can go on as before and nothing will change for you, except that now I will have someone else in my life too. I will no longer have to spend every night of my life alone. And if you loved me, if you really loved me and wanted me to be happy, you would want this for me, I think. You would not doom me to a solitary life because of the choices you made for yourself."

"How can you ask me to share you with another man? Don't you see that's completely different than Ginny?"

I paused and considered. In truth, I would never accept sharing him with another man. But he had created this impossible situation with the choices he made, and now he had to accept that those choices had consequences.

"I won't do it, Rick," he threatened. "If you insist on carrying on with this hustler, this kid who only sees you as a sugar daddy and will leave you in a second once he finds someone who can give him more, then we're over. But mark my words, he'll never satisfy you the way I can. No one ever will. Someday you'll be begging me to take you back, and it will be too late."

I narrowed my gaze, the proverbial wool finally falling from my eyes. I couldn't believe he was trying to use threats to keep us together, even after I'd told him over and over again how much I needed him to show me he really loved me. More than ever, his actions in that moment spoke volumes of how he regarded me. It was enough to show me I made the right call.

"I guess I'll have to deal with that if the time comes, but somehow I doubt it ever will. Goodbye, Harry," I turned, picked up my briefcase and slung it over my shoulder.

"You'll regret this, Cedric," he called after me. "You'll come back to me the way you always do, but this time you'll have run out of chances!"

I ignored him and kept walking back to the path and then in the direction of the overground station. I didn't turn back, afraid that my conviction might not hold up if I looked at him again. Everything in my head and heart was telling me that this time it was over for good, but given my history I just couldn't trust myself. It was better to get home and let it all sink in, give myself time to come to terms with what happened. For now, it was better just to walk on.

I walked back on autopilot, my feet thankfully finding a way without requiring much thought. I felt shell shocked. Under the circumstances nothing but brutal self-honesty would do, but knowing that I'd given up relationships with other good men and wasted so much of my life with someone who used me to satisfy his cravings and possibly never actually loved me back, made facing my errors particularly difficult.

I boarded the next train and made all the right transfers until I was walking back the last few steps to my flat. I still couldn't quite comprehend how I had allowed myself to be so taken in by a confidence man, and not a very subtle one. It wasn't as though he ever went out of his way to hide the contempt he felt for me, my friends and our lifestyle. It wasn't as though he ever pretended very much to care about me, except when he needed sex and sometimes afterwards, if he was feeling generous. I hung my head as I climbed up the steps to my building and then my flat. I had been so stupid.