by C J Baty
Damien glanced at Peter, who stood by the minister. He had this goofy grin on his face. The touch of Robert's hand, sliding into his, sent a tingle all over Damien's body. Standing here with their best friends, celebrating Peter and Sally's wedding, was a triumph for all of them. They had all come through so much to get to this point. Damien didn't do tears, at least not in front of people, but he didn't know what to do with all this happiness.
The old Damien didn't do happiness or relationships, but Robert had not let go. He had stayed right beside him through the visits to the psychiatrist.
When the nightmares threatened, Robert calmed him with soft words and
loving embraces. He didn't give up when Damien was impossible to live with, and, yes, he could be a bitch. Robert encouraged him when he had a setback and loved Damien through it all. It would not be easy, but Damien knew Robert was in this for the long haul. He had no doubts about it. That made every day, every step they took together, worth it. Robert's middle name should have been Patience, because he had been more than patient waiting to hear the words Damien could not say out loud.
"I do," Peter said, his voice calm and sure.
"I guess so." Sally chuckled when it was her turn. The guests erupted into laughter. Peter huffed and wagged a finger at her.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the minister said. "You may kiss the—"
A tiny voice disrupted the proceedings, screaming out.
All eyes turned to look at little Lily Warfield as she sat on her grandma's lap in the front row. She screeched again and then laughed.
"That's my daughter!" Peter said as he and Sally walked to the front row.
Peter scooped Lily up in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. Sally joined in and kissed her on the other cheek.
At the reception, after all the toasts and Peter shoving cake into Sally's face, and her returning the favor, soft music filled the hotel's restaurant. Damien looked across the room to see Robert, looking so handsome in his tux, twirl Krystal. A man Damien had only just met, Bentley, tapped Robert's shoulder and danced Krystal away. She was laughing and smiling as they went. Peter and Sally only had eyes for each other as they swayed to and fro. He also spotted Marcus and Justin among the crowd on the dance floor. Whispering to each other, they danced as close as they could possibly get. In public, that is.
Love was in the air.
Robert crossed the room to take Damien's hand. "Shall we?"
The two of them fell into step to the sound of a bluesy tune. It was surprising how light on his feet Robert was. The music and Robert's smile touched Damien's soul, and for just a moment, he forgot where they were. No one else in the room or on the dance floor mattered. Just him and Robert and the way Robert was looking at him. He could feel it, and Damien knew, without a doubt, now was the time.
Looking into Robert's eyes, he let go of the past, his insecurities, everything he had let stand in his way. He whispered to Robert what he had longed to say for some time now, and what he knew Robert had waited too long to hear.
"I love you."
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C.J. Baty lives in southwest Ohio. Her heart, however, lives in the mountains of Tennessee where she hopes to retire someday. The mountains have always provided her with inspiration and a soothing balm to the stresses of everyday life.
The dream of writing her own stories stated in high school but was left on the back burner of life until her son introduced her to fan fiction and encouraged her to give it a try. She found that her passion for telling a story was still there and writing them down to share with others was much more thrilling than she had ever expected.
She has a loving and supportive family who don’t mind fixing their own meals when she is in the middle of a story, and a network of friends who have encouraged and cheered her on in her quest of being an author.
One thing she has learned from life and she is often heard to say is: “You are never too old to follow your dream!”
Find C.J. Baty at:
www.cjbaty.blogspot.com
ALSO FROM C. J. BATY
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The Warfield Hotel Mysteries
Drifting Sands
Crashing Waves
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The Pinkerton Man Series
The Pinkerton Man (Book #1-2)
Stand-alone books:
A New Dream
Whispers, Rumors & Lies
Island Paradise
A Buggy Ride for Christmas
Coming Christmas 2017
Christmas at the Warfield Hotel
DRIFTING SANDS
Book 1 – The Warfield Hotel Mysteries
As he approaches his fortieth birthday, Justin Warfield feels alone, drifting like the sand that blows along the beach near his family’s hotel. He has done exactly as his father wanted. Married the right girl and carried on the family tradition of running the Warfield Hotel. On paper things seem perfect, but happiness hasn’t been a part of his life for a very long time.
Marcus Drummond once spent a summer with his best friend Peter at the Warfield Hotel and fell hard for Peter’s much older brother. Five years late he’s back, and this time hopes that Justin will see him as more than his kid brother’s friend.
Sparks fly when the two meet again, but there are a few things standing in their way. The closet that Justin has himself buried in and someone on a killing spree, dumping bodies on the Warfield beach . . . victims that indicate Justin may be involved in some way.
CRASHING WAVES
Book 2 – The Warfield Hotel Mysteries
Justin Warfield ran away to Italy to put the events of last summer and a certain dark haired private eye behind him, to no avail. If anything, he can’t help but rehash what happened over and over. When he finally returns to South Carolina, the hotel he runs with his brother has suffered a series of incidents that are starting to look less accidental after a death threat is received.
Not satisfied that Moses Lee and his local police will find the culprit, Peter Warfield calls in the services of his good friend Marcus Drummond to help.
Marcus is torn. He wants to help his friend, but he also knows that if Justin has moved on after their failed flirtation last summer, he will be devastated.
Tensions mount as danger seems to follow them at every turn, stalking them as they get closer to solving the mystery of who is behind the sabotage of the hotel.
COMING DECEMBER 2017
A WARFIELD HOTEL CHRISTMAS
NOVELLA
All Peter Warfield wants is an old fashioned Southern Christmas with his family and close friends. So, why is his brother Justin and his best friend Marcus making it so difficult. Something is going on and neither one is talking about it.
Come join Peter, Sally and their daughter, Lily for a Christmas they’ll never forget. Find out what happened to Richard Brooks, Daisy Lee and their son,
Alexander. Catch up with Damien Fitzgerald and Robert Wyler. See what Winnie’s cooking up for Christmas dinner.
Secrets and surprises all wrapped up in a pretty gold box with a huge red ribbon on top!
THE PINKERTON MAN
THE PINKERTON MAN SERIES
BK 1 & 2
Chapter One
Stiles Langberry had thought his world was perfect. He was considered handsome by most women and men. His father had graciously left him a very tidy sum upon his death, to do with as he pleased. His position of constable at Scotland Yard was one he enjoyed, mostly because he didn’t have to work for a living. And most importantly of all, he had the perfect discreet lover in the winsome Viscount Harold Crosby. Life was good, until...
Several months ago, the first letter had come. A blackmailer’s letter. It was descriptive, citing times and places he and Harry had enjoyed each other’s company. He ignored it. He told Harry to ignore the one he received as well.
But Viscount Crosby turned out to be a coward wrapped up in a beautifu
l package.
Harry paid the requested amount and, by doing so, admitted his relationship with Stiles and opened the door to more letters. They came more frequently, demanding larger and larger sums of money.
Stiles refused to pay the demands and, since Harry was filling the filthy blackmailer’s pockets, the fiend had left him somewhat alone. That is, until poor Harry offed himself and the vile beast’s money stream dried up.
He still refused to pay, and shortly the letters stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Stiles hoped that whoever the blackmailer was, he’d given up or, more than likely, switched to some other poor sod for his pennies. He soon found out that wasn’t the case.
Upon entering the doors to Scotland Yard one morning, he received a note requesting his presence in front of his superior, Sergeant Dale O’Conner. It was exactly three months to the day since Stiles had received the first blackmail letter.
Sergeant O’Conner was a large man. He had clearly been behind a desk for some time, because anyone who walked the streets the way a constable did would not be that large. He wore a mustache that was large as well. Stiles had often wondered what one might find in such a huge amount of hair on one’s face. O’Conner was generally a jovial chap, but today that was not forthcoming.
“Sit down, Stiles.” O’Conner’s use of his Christian name was not customary and made Stiles uneasy. He sat.
“We have a problem,” O’Conner said, sliding a folded note across the desk.
Stiles recognized the stationery but didn’t reach for it. He was sure he already knew who the note was from. What he didn’t know was why he wasn’t already under arrest or locked away.
“I see you recognize it.” Stiles had no words for a response.
The older man sat quietly watching Stiles; then he reached for the note. He tore it into several small pieces, dropping them into the ashtray on his desk.
A cigar that had gone out was also in the bowl. O’Conner relit the cigar, puffed on it slowly, and when the tip glowed red, he used it to set the pieces of the note ablaze.
Amazed, Stiles watched as his superior leaned back in his chair. Taking a deep drag on the cigar and puffing out the strong-smelling smoke, he regarded Stiles for long moments before he spoke again.
“I don’t care a horse’s arse what you do when you aren’t on duty. You’re a good constable, and you could have had a great career here.”
Stiles didn’t miss the words could have , and shivered at what he was sure was coming.
“I like you, Stiles. I always have. So I’m going to give you a free piece of advice. What you do with it is entirely up to you, son.”
The endearment the big, burly man used made Stiles smile and eased his fears.
“Resign your post today. Say you’re tired of playing at coppers. Take the snooty high road. You certainly have the funds, and no one would think anything other than what you say. Travel. Don’t go to Spain, though, Spaniards are a bunch of heathens. Go to France. Go anywhere, but don't stay in England. Change your name. Start over someplace new.”
To say Stiles was stunned would have been misleading. He was damn well floored. He wasn’t being arrested, and O’Conner wasn’t judging him for what he knew him to be. What did he really have here in England that meant so much to him? Travel? See the world? He’d never thought of it until his superior’s suggestion. And now it seemed like the most wonderful idea imaginable. He rose from his chair and offered his hand across the desk to Sergeant O’Conner.
“You have my resignation, sir, and I believe I will be traveling in the very near future.”
O’Conner shook his hand vigorously and smiled behind the whiskers of that huge mustache.
“The very best to you, Stiles, and safe travels in your adventures.”
