Page 5 of The Mission

“Nothing. Whatever’s wrong has nothing to do with you or me. Give it a rest. Anyway, he’s in a relationship with a guy on the next floor.”

Maybe he wasn’t anymore. Maybe that was what was wrong.

Arlo opened his mouth and his brother got there first. “No more, Arlo. Not another word. Let him have a moment on his own. He wouldn’t have come into the office if he’d wanted company.”

So not another word, but Arlo could have another thought. Or ten. Or a hundred. When he and his brother made their way to the restaurant, all Arlo could think about was that guy, sitting in his office, all on his own, crying and how much Arlo had wanted to put his arms around him and give him a hug, make his world turn again.

He couldn’t let this go.

2

Three months after seeing Big Arsehole fuck Little Arsehole

I am a changed man.Conrad looked in the mirror before he left his flat and told himself to keep smiling. No matter how aggravated he was with his friends, and he used the wordfriendsloosely, since most of them weren’t the friends he’d like them to be, that smile would stay in place. He was more than aggravated with those whoweresupposed to be his friends, but there was no way he was going to show it. Because if he did, they’d have won and Conrad wouldn’t let that happen. He’d been wearing this mask for the last three months and he wasnotgoing to let it slip even if no one he knew was around to be fooled by it. It was good practice.I am a changed man.

So, he’d given a painful smile after he’d run all the way across the station concourse only for the train doors to shut just as he’d reached them. Smiled through gritted teeth when someone had banged their luggage trolley into his heel as he was walking into the airport. And finally, plastered a beaming smile on his face when he’d seen the group he was travelling with waiting near the check-in desk. It had been a little easier to smile then than it might have been because Ernesto and Mark weren’t there yet. Although no one had noticed a smiling Conrad approach, it still wasn’t a waste because the more he smiled, the more natural it would look. Possibly.Unlikelysaid that horrible sarcastic little voice in his head.

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Conrad felt more uncomfortable than he’d anticipated. He didn’t know five of these guys. They were clients of the firm and theoretically shouldn’t know about his past history with Big Arsehole, but if Mark had said anything, it wouldn’t have been to paint Conrad in a favourable light. He had to face it, the likelihood was that Mark had told them, with a roll of his eyes, that his ex was coming on the ski trip.Conrad knew he wasn’t wanted. One hint after another had been dropped over the last three months, hints that had become more frequent over the last couple of weeks.As if I’m going to cancel now!

The others resumed their conversation and Conrad stood to the side, not really caring that he wasn’t being included. He remembered exactly what had been said to encourage him to cancel and who had said it.

Won’t you feel awkward?

Won’t they feel awkward?

Sure you can cope?

Wouldn’t you rather…?

It would be better for everyone if…

After he and Mark had imploded, everyone from work going on the trip—and people who weren’t going on the trip but liked to stick their noses into other people’s business—had thought Conrad would cancel. At first, it had been sheer pig-headedness that had made him stick to his plans. Later, he’d thought again, and if he’d been able to get all his money back, he might have done. Served him right for not reading every line of the small print.

Apparently,finding your boyfriend with his cock in another guy’s arsedidn’t qualify as a valid reason for getting a refund. Who’d have guessed? So Conrad had to either say goodbye to fourteen hundred pounds and spend a miserable Christmas alone. Again. Or spend a miserable Christmas with people who didn’t want him around, though he did get to ski.Ugh and yippee!

Tough choice. But showing Mark that he didn’tfuckingcare—and he really didn’t—meant more to Conrad than it should have done. And there was the skiing. Conrad really liked skiing.Thatwas the holiday he took every year.Thatwas the holiday he saved for. Though not usually at Christmas because it was too expensive. But there was something about being up in the mountains, breathing in that crisp cold air and feeling as if he was on top of the world, before launching himself down a slope at breakneck speed that made his heart sing. All he needed to do was eat breakfast and dinner in the catered chalet with this lot. There didn’t need to be any other contact.

He was happy to ski on his own.Almosthappy. He usually found someone to join up with when he shared chair lifts. Last year, he’d spent three days with an Austrian in his sixties who was a better skier than him. Conrad learnt a lot and improved his German.

Mark and Ernesto arrived in a swirl of expensive aftershave and a few paparazzi.Oh my God. Really!There was a loud welcome and lots of backslapping for Mr Popular and his famous model-about-to-turn-actor boyfriend. That had been why Conrad recognised him. He’d seen him in theSunday Timesmagazine.New star in Hollywood.More than once.The face of an angel or a devil?Ernesto definitely had the skinny, pouty, slightly anaemic, gormless look of a model—though that might be an unkind thing to say since Conrad had never spoken to any model, let alone to Ernesto with his flawless skin—did he even shave? — eyes that could launch a thousand hot air balloons, and leonine mane of fair hair.Stop looking at him!

Conrad kept smiling. The pair had matching expensive luggage and matching pale blue Patagonia ski jackets.I want to be sick.When the group headed to join the queue at check-in, Mark and Ernesto leading the way, Conrad tagged along at the rear. Mark hadn’t even acknowledged his presence. Conrad was irritated with himself for being irritated. Mark’s arm was around Ernesto’s neck, his fingers twisting in the guy’s hair. Conrad remembered Mark telling him he didn’t like long hair on a guy—a hint that Conrad needed a haircut—but he’d clearly changed his mind. Conrad really was over the wanker. What he hadn’t gotten over was his annoyance about how pathetic he’d been to let it carry on so long.

No more of that. He was a changed man. He really was. The more he told himself that, the more he believed it. He’d never be so stupid again. It was a promise he’d made to himself. Three months of not going out with anyone. Three months of sleeping better. Three months of pulling himself together so that when hedidmeet someone, he’d—

A passport dropped to the floor at Conrad’s side and as he bent to pick it up, he clashed heads with its owner who was also reaching for it.

“Ow, sorry,” Conrad said.

“My fault.” The owner of the British passport was a guy about Conrad’s age—tall and clean-shaven with short dark hair. He had amazing blue eyes, a brilliant smile with lovely white teeth, and Conrad’s heart lurched in a pleasant way for the first time in months. Significantly, the first time in several months.Oh good. I still have a heart then.

“I think I’ve got it now,” the guy said.

“What?” It took a moment to register he was talking about the passport that Conrad was still holding, and Conrad let it go. “Sorry,” he said again.I am always fucking apologising.Still, it was an accident they were both responsible for. Apologising was polite.

“Flying to Salzburg?” the guy asked.

“Uh huh.”Think of something nice to say.And don’t rub your sore head, even though you want to! Shit! What can I say?

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