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“I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet,” Luke replied. “I still feel kinda numb.” He turned to Rupert. “Come inside. I’ve got something to show you.”
Rupert followed Luke back into the living room. A large photo album was laid open on the table.
“That’s what was in the parcel,” said Luke. “I guess Christian sent it.”
Rupert thumbed through the album. Happy faces looked back at him from photographs on every page. The album began with the wedding day of Luke’s parents. It told the story of the birth of each of their four children, up until their teens. Rupert turned to Luke.
“Is it triggering memories for you?” he asked.
Luke shook his head. “It doesn’t feel real at the moment. It’s like looking at someone else’s family. They’re not my brothers and sisters. Not my parents.” He turned to Rosalind, who had entered the living room and stood beside them. “Will they ever become my memories?”
She shrugged. “I’m no psychiatrist. All I can say is, I think it’s bloody fortunate you’re alive. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Rupert.”
Luke grinned. “People keep saying that.” He turned to Rupert. “Is it true?”
Before Rupert could answer, the doorbell rang again. And he threw up his hands. “It’s like Piccadilly Circus this morning.” He headed for the front door.
“Mornin’, sweetheart. Did ya miss me?” Sandra reached up, kissed Rupert on both cheeks, and pushed past him into the hallway. “Where’s my sexy American?”
As soon as she spotted him, Sandra ran down the corridor, threw herself at Luke, and wrapped her arms around him.
“You better not go anywhere again soon,” she said. “We need to keep a close eye on you from now on.”
She gave Luke another hug and turned to Rosalind. “I’m Rupert’s picture editor, love. Sandra Giles. Rhymes with piles. Who are you?”
Rosalind stared down at Sandra with a look somewhere between horror and disdain. She glanced at Rupert, who stood at the entrance to the living room. “Is this the one you keep complaining about? I can see why.”
Rupert shook his head and walked over to Sandra. “Sandra, this is the pathologist, Dr. Rosalind Goodman.”
“Oh yeah, I remember,” said Sandra. “You’re the dodgy dyke he used to manage the London Pride parade with. What is it about dead bodies with you?” She shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”
She turned her back on Rosalind, stood between Rupert and Luke, and put her arms around them.
“I’ve got a little request for you two,” she said. “Now that you’re not going to be needin’ the apartment, I was just wonderin’—”
“What do you mean not needing the apartment?” asked Rupert.
“Well, surely you’re not goin’ to be staying down there?” asked Sandra. “Not when you’ve got your gorgeous Yank to sleep with up here. Then again, if you decide to take that job in Atlanta—”
“Oh no,” said Rupert and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m going to Atlanta for the foreseeable future. And there was nothing ever definite about the job with CNN.”
“Oh, it’s definite all right,” said Sandra. “My mate Donna—you remember? The one who was at the Tavern the other night? The one what’s moved to CNN? She said it’s an open secret the job’s definitely yours. With or without Beverley fuckin’ Daniels.”
Rupert shook his head again. “I can’t go to America just now. Not after everything that’s just happened to Luke. Maybe in a couple of years—”
“No,” Luke interrupted. “Of course you should take it. This is the break you’ve been waiting for. Don’t turn it down on my account.”
“But I can’t leave you until all this gets sorted out,” protested Rupert. “What about your therapy sessions with Dr. Ballantyne? You’re going to need a lot of support after all this. I’m certainly not going anywhere just now.”
Sandra tutted loudly and looked up at Luke. “Oh, dear. He really doesn’t get it, does he? They’ve got shrinks in America, haven’t they? I ’eard they ’ad more shrinks than bleedin’ lawyers. Why don’t the pair of you go and leave all this behind? It’s the perfect opportunity for both of you. A new start.”
Rupert looked at Luke, whose eyes were twinkling with mischief.
“She’s right,” said Luke. “You don’t rate Dr. Ballantyne very highly anyway. The question is, will you take this waif and stray with you?”
Rupert put his hands gently on either side of Luke’s head and gazed into his eyes.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” he replied and kissed Luke on the lips.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Sandra. “Get a room, you two.”
DAVID C. DAWSON is an award-winning author, journalist, and documentary maker living near Oxford in the UK. He writes about men in love—facing danger and solving crimes. In 2017, David was an award winner in the President’s Awards for Adult Suspense and Thrillers.
David joined the BBC in London and worked in radio newsrooms for several years before moving to television as a documentary director. During the growing AIDS crisis in the late eighties, he is proud to say that he directed the first demonstration of putting on a condom on British television.
He has lived in London, Geneva, and San Francisco, but now prefers the tranquility of the Oxfordshire countryside. He produced videos for several charities, including Ethiopiaid, which works to end poverty in Ethiopia, and Hestia, a London-based mental health charity.
David has one son, who is also a successful filmmaker. In his spare time, David tours Europe on his aging Triumph motorbike and sings with the London Gay Men’s Chorus. David is most proud of the time they sang at the House of Lords, campaigning for equal marriage to be legalized in the UK.
Website: www.davidcdawson.co.uk
Blog: blog.davidcdawson.co.uk/#home
Twitter: @david_c_dawson
Facebook: www.facebook.com/david.c.dawson.5
LinkedIn: uk.linkedin.com/in/davidcdawson
Email: [email protected]
By David C. Dawson
For the Love of Luke
Love Wins
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For the Love of Luke
© 2018 David C. Dawson.
Cover Art
© 2018 L.C. Chase.
http://www.lcchase.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-780-8
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64080-781-5
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018936990
Digital published October 2018
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
on, For the Love of Luke