Free The Wish by Eden Winters

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    Paul subtly manipulated the seating arrangements, knowing Alex dared not challenge him in public, placing Alfred between the two of them. He fully expected to earn an evil glare, but didn’t rightly care. Surprisingly, when he chanced to catch Alex gazing at him, his expression was far from hostile. Paul decided not to dwell on the change right now, for Alfred was the important one, and Uncle Douglas, seated on Paul’s other side. Any pissing contests would have to wait.
    Hoping the absence of evil glares meant an unspoken truce for the duration of the service, Paul turned his attention to the presiding minister. As he listened to the eloquently prepared eulogy, the reality sank in that his uncle was truly gone and not merely away at some business function, as he’d like to believe.
    Silent tears tracked Paul’s face, and he shyly glimpsed Alfred from the corner of his eye, trying his best to be strong. The worst of his mourning had occurred privately, on the rooftop of his store. It hadn’t been pretty. He definitely didn’t want Alfred to witness his pain, adding another thing for the poor old soul to worry about.
    Although equally quiet in his grief, tears streaked Alfred’s weathered face, occasionally wiped away with a handkerchief, only to be replaced by more. Paul gently squeezed his arm, fully believing no comfort would be offered from the man on Alfred’s other side.
    Chancing a quick peek, Paul’s mouth dropped open as Alex divided rapt attention between the minister’s words and comforting Alfred. Paul’s surprise turned to shock when he noticed the tears staining the man’s face. My God! If he hadn’t known better, he’d swear Alex Martin had miraculously grown a heart!
    Teary blue eyes roved upward and locked with Paul’s. No words were spoken. He and Alex reached a silent agreement, at least temporarily, for the sake of the occasion. Throughout the service and at the graveside, they dealt politely with each other, even if the interaction was noticeably devoid of warmth.
    After the final prayer, Douglas approached and hugged Alfred. “If you ever need anything….”
    Alfred managed a weak smile. “I know, Douglas, I know.”
    Prayers said and mourners departing, Paul, Alfred, and Alex rode in a long black limousine back to the house. The day had taken its toll, and Alfred’s head bobbed. Paul gently pulled Alfred onto his shoulder, earning a raised eyebrow from Alex. What was with him? If Paul didn’t know better, he’d swear the guy was jealous. He quickly shook the notion off as ridiculous. He’d been around Alfred since birth and considered him a father, especially after the death of his own.
    Alex couldn’t possibly think…. Nah, no way. Regardless of what he’d said in the kitchen the first day, he’d soon learned Paul was Byron’s nephew. No, he was simply being Alex: aloof and untouchable. Then again, he’d shed genuine tears at the funeral.
    Paul stood no hope of ever figuring the man out, and hopefully, Alex would soon be on his way back to wherever he went to ignore his family. Paul knew those thoughts were hard-hearted and uncharitable, but in truth Alex hadn’t made himself available to offer comfort or attend matters as he should have.
    When they arrived back at the house, Paul, out of long habit, moved to help Alfred to his room. A hasty “I can take care of it” from Alex had him stepping back, ready for battle.
    Bernard averted the conflict by assuming control. “It’s time for his medicine and a nap,” he informed them, effectively ending the fight before it started.
    All eyes turned to Alfred, who shook his head and chuckled. “I believe I must do as Bernard says. I’m a little tired and some rest might do me good. In fact, if you two don’t mind, I think I’ll have dinner in my room tonight and turn in early.”
    Of Paul, he asked, “Could I trouble you with showing Alex around a bit? I daresay he’s not nearly as familiar with the area as you