Personal Challenges

by K. C. Wells

  Colin nodded, the first hint of a smile playing about his lips. “Thank you.”

  Ed gestured to Colin’s plate. “An’ now I’ll heat this up. You’re not goin’ without yer dinner.” When he reached for it, Colin grabbed his hand.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  Ed smiled. “That’s the one thing I’m bleedin’ certain of.” He bent down and kissed Colin on the lips, and then headed for the kitchen. While he waited for the microwave to do its stuff, he did his utmost not to think about that e-mail.

  He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

  Ed could wait until then. He hoped.

  * * * * * *

  Ed stared at the ceiling. They’d been in bed for over half an hour, and he knew by the sound of Colin’s breathing that he wasn’t asleep. Ed rolled onto his side and shifted across the mattress to curl up around Colin.

  As soon as his chest came into contact with Colin’s broad back, Colin became rigid. “Not tonight, Ed, all right?”

  For some reason, the assumption cut him to the quick. “I wanted to cuddle ya. I thought maybe you needed a cuddle right now.” Ed rolled away onto his side, facing away from him, his stomach churning. This wasn’t like Colin.

  The sheets rustled behind him, and then Colin’s warm arms came around him. “I’m sorry,” Colin whispered. “I had no right to speak to you like that.”

  Ed reached over to click on the lamp, and then turned to look him in the eye. “For Gawd’s sake, Col, what is it? Can’t I ’elp ya?” He knew what was really eating away at him, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Why can’t you tell me what Ray wrote? Was it something personal? Because if that’s the case, I don’t know what to say to ya. I didn’t think we kept secrets from each other.” Every fibre of him hoped to God that wasn’t the case. The thought that Colin felt he couldn’t share something with Ed made him feel sick.

  Please, Col…. Just talk to me.

  Colin groaned. “God, I swear, it’s not like that, it’s just…” He sighed. “I know this will sound crazy, but… it felt as though just saying it out loud somehow made it real, and fuck, I don’t want it to be. I want to wake up tomorrow and find it was all a bad dream, that Ray really isn’t dying…” He gulped.

  Ed gaped. “What?” His head was spinning. Ray, dyin’? What the fuck?

  Colin sighed again. “See? I told you it didn’t make sense.” He regarded Ed in silence for a moment, before stretching out his hand toward the bedside cabinet for his phone. He scrolled through and then handed it to Ed. “Here,” he said simply. “Read it for yourself.”

  Ed scanned the e-mail, his heart plummeting. It took two attempts for the words to sink in, and when they did, his throat tightened and his chest ached to realize what Colin had been going through. “Oh wow.” He raised his eyes and stared at Colin. “Aw, love, I’m so sorry. I know you two were close.”

  “I still can’t believe it, to be honest.” Colin seemed so tired. “And I can’t get past the feeling that I need to do something.”

  “Such as what?”

  Colin hesitated before replying. “I want to see him. Not yet, maybe, but at some point.”

  Ed handed him the phone. “Unfinished business?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What did he mean, about leavin’ the way he did?”

  Colin sat up and stuffed pillows behind him. “You know I said he got a job offer in Edinburgh? Well, I found that out when I came home from work one night—I’d been working in a restaurant during the summer—and received a text telling me about the job, and that he’d already left for Scotland. I messaged him back, asking why he hadn’t told me. I got what you see here: he hates goodbyes.”

  “That must’ve ’urt.” Ed could only imagine the pain Colin had gone through. To spend three years of your life with someone, only to have them discard you so quickly.

  “It stung, all right. So when I got the Christmas card that year, I was surprised. I thought he’d wanted to break off all contact. Apparently not. And the cards kept on coming, giving little away about his life in Edinburgh.” Colin swallowed. “Seems like he kept a great deal from me.”

  “An’ you want to see ’im, to get some answers. I understand that.” Ed reached out to stroke Colin’s thigh, covered by the soft sheets. “Take yer time before you make plans to go dashin’ off, okay? It’s like you said—you need time to process it all. An’ for all you know, he might not want visitors.”

  “Fair point.”

  Colin’s pained stare was too much for Ed. “Listen, why don’t I switch off the light, an’ then hold yer until you fall asleep? I know you probably don’t believe you can fall asleep right now, but it can’t ’urt.” He caressed the firm thigh. “I just want to ’old ya.”

  Colin smiled. “Right now, being held is exactly what I need.”

  Ed swiftly turned out the light and lay down, snuggling around Colin’s body, his arm draped over Colin’s waist, hand lying protectively over his heart. Not that it’ll stop ’im from ’urting. He lay in the dark, listening to Colin breathe.

  Ed had never felt so useless in his entire life.

  Chapter Seven

  Rick gave the apartment a last glance to make sure everything was neat and tidy before Franco arrived.

  Angelo chuckled as he came up behind him and put his arms around Rick’s waist, his chin resting on Rick’s shoulder. “Yes, it looks lovely.”

  “Ha!” Rick turned his head and kissed Angelo soundly on the cheek. “If I left things up to you, we’d be knee deep in crap.”

  Angelo released him and took a step back, eyes wide in an affectation of innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Rick let out a loud snort. “Pull the other one. I always marvel how you keep the studio so spick and span, with a place for everything, and everything in its place, and—”

  “Hey, that’s common sense. We’re talking chisels, hammers, saws…”

  Rick nodded, grinning. “So what is so wrong with extending the same courtesy to our apartment? I mean, what about your piles of magazines that you leave everywhere, the folders with your sketches for pieces, shoes—my God, I counted ten pairs of your shoes around this place. Ten! I don’t think I even own ten pairs.”

  Angelo narrowed his gaze. “So basically, you’re implying I’m a slob.”

  “Implying? Who’s implying?”

  Angelo let out a long sigh. “Oh well, looks like the honeymoon is over.”

  Rick chuckled. “I believe it’s customary for the honeymoon not to start until after the wedding?” He moved closer to wrap his arms around Angelo. “I’m feeling pretty confident that I can get you to change your slobbish ways. I might need the rest of our lives together to do it, but I’ll do it. I can be pretty tenacious. It might take me until you’re in your eighties, but I’ll get there.”

  “Tenacity is a good quality in a husband,” Angelo said softly, rubbing his thumb along Rick’s jawline. “The ability to hold onto something is always good.”

  Rick knew that tone. It was the one that was usually a prelude to sex. “Is there something I should be holding onto?” he asked with a smile.

  Angelo nodded deliberately, his eyes gleaming. “My shoulders, while I lift you up and fuck you against the bedroom wall.”

  Rick groaned and let go of Angelo to adjust his hard on. “This is not fair. Not when we have a visitor arriving at any second. Especially one who’s a priest.” He gestured to the bulge in his jeans. “I mean, what am I supposed to do about this now?”

  The intercom buzzed, and they both jumped.

  “Might I suggest,” Angelo said as he headed toward the door to the apartment, “a strategically placed cushion?” Rick could hear him laughing all the way down the stairs into the studio.

  He shook his head. Angelo’s libido was truly amazing. Rick glanced down to his visible erection and groaned silently. Bloody Angelo. He just had time to sit on the couch and yank a cushion into his lap before the
door opened and Angelo walked in, followed by a guy in maybe his late forties, bearded, with glasses, and wearing a black leather biker’s jacket over a tight black T-shirt, jeans and heavy boots.

  Rick blinked.

  Franco laughed. “You must be Rick. Let me guess—I look nothing like a priest.”

  Beside him, Angelo snickered. “See? It’s not just me. No one expects a leather-clad priest with muscles.”

  Rick started to rise, but Franco waved his hand and sat next to him. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

  “Yeah, it’s only been, what, ten years?” Angelo observed with a chuckle.

  “I send Christmas cards, what more do you want?” Franco grinned. “And seeing as I might be here for a while, is there anything to drink around here? Non-alcoholic—I’m on the Harley.”

  “You ride a Harley?” Rick shook his head again. “Nope. Definitely not what I expected. And we have to introduce you to Ed at the wedding.”

  “Ed?”

  Angelo smiled. “Rides a Harley.” He left them to go into the kitchen.

  “Ah, right.” Franco leaned forward and removed his jacket, placing it over the arm of the couch. He sat back and studied Rick, thick arms folded across his chest. “So, you work for a publishing house?”

  Rick nodded. “Trinity.” He met Franco’s thoughtful gaze. “And you work with some bad-ass convicts.”

  “Guilty as charged.” He winked. “Excuse the pun.”

  “So what do you do all day? I mean, once you’ve conducted a service on Sundays, what’s left?”

  Franco chuckled. “You’d be surprised. The Chaplaincy is an important part of the prison. For instance, a new prisoner has to meet with one of the team within twenty-four hours of arriving.”

  “Really?” Rick drew his legs up onto the couch and tucked his feet under him. “What for?”

  “We invite them to register as a specific religion, although they can change it at any time. We do stuff you might not expect, such as lending radios, musical instruments or typewriters.”

  “Listening to you, anyone would think your job is a walk in the park, but I know different,” Angelo said as he came back into the lounge, carrying a tray with three glasses of juice. “Belmarsh takes care of Category A prisoners, isn’t that right? The ones that pose the greatest potential risk?”

  Franco nodded, his expression sobering. “I haven’t been there all that long, but from conversations with my fellow chaplains, it’s clear things have changed a lot.”

  “In what way?” Rick sat up and rubbed his forearms briskly, where goose bumps had formed.

  “About one in every five prisoners is converting to Islam, but we’re talking those who follow Muslim extremism here.”

  “Wasn’t Belmarsh where they detained that famous Muslim cleric, the one who was inciting violence?” Rick asked.

  Franco snorted. “More like infamous. He’s gone, but what he left behind…” He shook his head. “This is where the Muslim chaplains—the Imans—come in. They take part in a daily battle to counter the jihadist interpretation of Islam, running programmes that attack the Islamic justification for terrorism.” Franco’s expression was sad. “We are under no illusions. The task is monumental, but we are determined to show these men that there is another way and that their ideology is wrong.”

  “Is it working?” Angelo asked, handing Franco a glass.

  “If I had a way of reading minds, then I could answer that question. We can but hope that through our efforts, through prayer, we can lead them away from the path they’ve chosen and onto the path that leads to self-improvement.” He took a sip of juice. “But enough about me. Let’s talk weddings. That’s why I’m here, after all.”

  Rick fought the urge to shiver. “Now you sound like a priest.”

  Franco flashed him a smile. “Don’t let the talk of prayer put you off. I’m basically an okay guy.” He winked.

  Rick couldn’t help snorting. He could see why Angelo liked him.

  “You mentioned you might have an idea about the reception venue,” Angelo said.

  Franco’s face lit up. “What if I told you I’d found a venue where you could hold both the reception and the wedding ceremony? One that would please even your mother?”

  Rick stared at him. “Wow. If you can do all that, I’ll believe in miracles.”

  Franco took a longer drink and then set his glass down on the coffee table. “Hever Castle is about thirty-five miles from central London, just north of Tunbridge Wells. It was Anne Boleyn’s childhood home, and it’s stunning, set in beautiful gardens and surrounded by a moat. I’ve visited it several times, and I swear, it gets better every time. It’s run commercially as a tourist attraction, along with offering very high class bed and breakfast facilities.” He paused, smiling. “And… I happen to know the man in charge of the whole operation.”

  “Knowing him is one thing,” Angelo interjected. “It’s late in the day to hope they have a date available.”

  Franco nodded, his face straight. “You’re right, of course. Does that mean you wouldn’t be interested to learn that Friday August 19th is temporarily booked in your names? Including accommodation for the wedding night?” He flashed them a wide grin.

  Rick gaped. “And what did you have to promise the guy in charge to pull that off? That you’d sleep with him?” It was only when Angelo began to cough violently that he remembered Franco’s profession. “Shit. Oops, sorry. I mean, wow, that’s fantastic.”

  “That mouth of yours always gets you into trouble,” Angelo muttered, followed by a rough chuckle.

  To Rick’s surprise Franco didn’t laugh. For one brief moment his face turned ashen and he stared at Rick with wide eyes. Then he regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Is that date okay with you?”

  Rick’s chest tightened. I’ve upset him. He gave himself a mental kick up the backside. Since when do you ask a priest if he’s sleeping with a guy? No wonder Franco had looked shocked. “I… Let us check the diary, okay?” He fired Angelo a look, and his fiancé launched himself up off the armchair and across the room to his phone.

  Franco appeared to have gotten over his shock. “While Angelo is checking the diary, why don’t you have a look online? You can see the gardens and the house, even the accommodation.”

  Rick nodded and grabbed his laptop from the coffee table. “Hever Castle, you said?” It wasn’t long before he pulled up the site and—

  “Oh my God. Angelo. Please tell me that date is free.” He stared at the images in disbelief before turning to Franco. “Seriously? We can have our wedding here?”

  Angelo came across to peer at the screen. “Why? Does it look good? It—” His eyes widened.

  Franco’s chuckle rumbled out of him. “I gather you like what you see.”

  “Like?” Rick shook his head in amazement. “”It’s beautiful.”

  “Mum is going to have kittens when she sees this,” Angelo murmured, apparently unable to tear his gaze away from the screen.

  Rick tugged on his sleeve impatiently. “Well? Does that mean you have no jobs booked for that date?” He knew Ed would be fine about whichever date they chose. Most likely Trinity would close for the day anyway, because all the staff would be at their wedding. But Angelo had a number of projects on his books.

  Angelo’s smile warmed Rick inside. “It’s clear so far.” He turned to Franco. “And we’re definitely booked in for August 19th?”

  Franco held up his hand. “I said temporarily, but all that’s needed is a deposit and it’s a firm booking. Although you’ll have to get a move on, organizing the caterers. Anthony said he could help there too if needed. They have a lot of weddings, and he has contacts in the catering world.”

  “Anthony. He’s the guy in charge?” Rick asked. Angelo sat on the floor in front of the coffee table and clicked through the site.

  Franco nodded. “Actually, he and I go way back. We were friends at university, before I entered the priesthood. We reconnected about
a year ago. When Maria mentioned you needed a venue for the reception, he was the first person I thought of calling. We met for dinner this evening to discuss it. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of holding the wedding there—that was Anthony’s suggestion.”

  “Oh wow.”

  Angelo’s soft cry broke through their conversation. He twisted to stare at Rick over his shoulder, his eyes shining.

  Rick peered at the laptop screen and his jaw dropped. “Is that the accommodation you were telling us about?”

  “Yes. They have several rooms and suites.”

  “Look at that four poster bed.” Angelo’s voice was laced with awe. “And that gorgeous carved ceiling and all that wood panelling. It’s wonderful.”

  Rick kissed the top of his head. “Now that is a perfect room for a wedding night.” He turned back to Franco, grinning. “Where do we sign?”

  Franco reached for his jacket and fished out his phone. A moment later, he smiled. “Hey.” He laughed. “Yes, I know I only just left you. I’m here with Rick and Angelo.” He paused. “Oh, definitely. They love it. In fact, I think they’re busy choosing their room for their wedding night as we speak.” He listened intently. “Sure. I’ll pass that on. Oh, and they’ll need to talk about catering for the reception. Yes, we have to set the ball rolling on that one ASAP.” Another pause. “And thank you again. You really have saved the day for them.” His smile widened. “Yes, let’s do that.” He said goodbye and disconnected. “Anthony says to use the Contact link on the website. When he sees your message, he’ll email you details about the booking. He also suggests that you might want to visit the castle for a look around, to decide on where to hold the ceremony, and to make a firm choice of room.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Rick was buzzing with excitement. “Can we go next weekend?”

  Both Angelo and Franco laughed loudly.

  “You are such a big kid sometimes.” Angelo gazed at him fondly.

  Rick speared him with a look. “Hey, come on, you’re the one who plucked August from out of nowhere. We don’t have time to waste, do we, Franco?”