Chapter One

Heath had no inkling his life was about to go downhill fast when he walked into the pub. He was meeting his boyfriend, Diego, for a meal and although Heath would have rather not come to this particular pub because it was a pie and mash place, and he liked neither pies nor mash, he’d swallowed his objection and agreed because he really didn’t need to be moaned at for saying no yet again.

He glanced around inside, looking for Diego, blinking at the ferocious amount of tinsel that appeared to be draped over anything that wasn’t moving. It was enough to set his teeth on edge. The memory of a time he’d had it stuffed into his mouth as a child still caused nightmares. As he looked around the room, his gaze locked in on two men staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. It might have been an aaahh, that’s so cute moment. But one of the men was Heath’s boyfriend and the other was Heath’s boss. So not an aaahh moment at all, but a heart-crushing, stomach-churning, fucking-annoying one.

I’m not mistaken, am I? Heath really wished he was, but to think that would be delusional. Those shared smiles, the way they were leaning into each other… Oh, and the gentle caress of Diego’s face. Not a mistake.

Neither man had yet spotted him, which gave Heath the opportunity to move to a position where he couldn’t be seen. He needed a second or two to take a breath and consider his response. Tears were pointless, though he could feel them filling his eyes. Anger, distress, shock…all battled to be top dog. Though one thing was clear: the reason Diego had asked to meet him here was to dump him in a location where Heath wouldn’t make a fuss, wouldn’t stamp his foot, have a hissy fit and demand to know why. Except Heath wouldn’t have done any of those things. Diego didn’t know him at all.

Oh God, he really doesn’t.

Oh God. He really does. Damn it.

But Heath was determined not to react like a spoiled brat. He’d show him! Or rather he wouldn’t show him because Heath’s first inclination was to slink out of the pub without being seen, even though all he’d be doing was delaying the inevitable. The end of their relationship had been revealed in the touching tableau he’d just witnessed and why didn’t matter.

Did it?

No, because he knew why.

Probably.

They were over.

As was his job.

Because… He just couldn’t face a smug Benny every day.

If Heath was being honest with himself, he was more pissed off about the job than he was about Diego. Didn’t that tell him something? Worries about a hissy fit faded. I’m not broken-hearted. That was a good thing. Except he’d have to move out of Diego’s flat and that was annoying. More than annoying. Anger was coming to a bubbling simmer in his chest, drowning shock and distress.

Did he even need to walk over there and be told he was no longer wanted? Whatever was said was only going to bring an even larger lump to his throat because rejection hurt, no matter what. He could just go home—okay, so no longer home—pack up his stuff and find a cheap hotel for the night.

Was there any chance of him pretending to dump Diego? Tempting, but no one would believe that. Though the only one he needed to believe that was Diego himself. So maybe…

“Heath!” Diego moved in front of him.

Shit! I’m not even any good at hiding. It reminded him of hide and seek when he was a child. When he wasn’t the one who’d been forced to be the seeker, he was always found first by the others. It was as if they ganged up on him. Well, they had.

“Come and sit down. We need to talk.”

No, Heath wasn’t going to do that. Well, not sit down anyway. He looked into Diego’s face and took some comfort in the fact that Diego wouldn’t look directly at him. Coward.

“We’ve been over for a long while,” Diego said. “You must have seen this coming.”

Er, no. Not really.

“You’re too negative. You never want to do anything. You’re no fun anymore.”

Which implied he had been fun once upon a time. Rather pathetically, Heath took some comfort in that. And what about Heath’s suggestion last week that they went ice-skating at Somerset House? Didn’t that count as fun? He opened his mouth to point that out, then shut it again. Diego’s mind was made up. What was said now didn’t really matter.

“Say something!”

What was the point? What did Diego want him to say? As if in response, All I Want for Christmas is You blared through the pub’s speakers.

“You never want to go anywhere. You always say no to everything I suggest.”

I’m here for pie and mash, aren’t I? Whether he’d have eaten anything was another matter. Heath curled his toes in his shoes. He’d just have to keep waiting under the mistletoe, Mariah Carey! Diego wasn’t the one but someone else would be. See! He could be positive.

“Life was dull,” Diego blurted. “You’re boring. Your clothes are boring. Even your hairstyle is boring.”

Oh God. Heath had tuned back in for that. He felt as if he was being stabbed. How many strikes before he fell? He’d tried! He wasn’t even any good at ice-skating but if he fell down, he got up. He loved the forty-foot Christmas tree and the historic surroundings of Somerset House and the lights and it was romantic and…

“You make no bloody effort,” Diego said. “You’re really hard to live with.”

He couldn’t even hear Mariah singing anymore. Heath did all the cleaning and the shopping, much of the cooking. He thought he was easy going. Clearly not.

“Anyway, I’ve had enough. We’re done.” Diego glanced back at Benny and shot him a smile.

Heath wondered how long the two had been together.

“Me and your boss have been seeing each other for three months.”

Did I fucking ask you to tell me? Do you think I needed reminding that Benny is my boss? Just because he’d thought how long in his head did not mean he wanted to know. Now he was all too aware of what had made Benny so fucking cheerful for the last three months and why Diego had spent so many evenings working late. Not toiling in his hair salon, clearly. Now Heath had the truth about those phone calls Diego felt obliged to leave the room to answer. Not his mum at all. Heath felt a fool for not having registered what was happening. Not that he’d have ever imagined his forty-something balding, but rich boss in a relationship with fashion-and-hair-obsessed, money-driven Diego.

“Say something,” Diego whispered.

What the hell did Diego want him to say? Have a nice life? He probably wanted Heath to ask him not to leave him. That wasn’t going to happen. I thought I loved you. I thought you loved me. I thought that you were mine. Heath wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’d managed not to stamp his foot or demand to know why. Pat yourself on the back.

“I’ll pack up my stuff.” He was pleased he’d managed to say that without his voice cracking.

He headed over to Benny, who stood as Heath approached. Heath almost enjoyed the wary look on Benny’s face. No, I’m not going to hit you. As if!

“I quit,” Heath said. “Under the circumstances, I won’t be working my notice. I have plenty of holiday time remaining so we’re done.”

Benny’s eyes widened. “Come on, Heath. There’s no need to be hasty. You do a great job and I don’t want to lose you.”

You should have thought of that before you fucked my boyfriend, you…arsehole. He probably should have said that, not just thought it.

“Please reconsider, Heath.” Benny glanced at Diego. “We can all be sensible about this.”

Diego glared at his new love and Heath felt a brief moment of satisfaction that maybe Benny wasn’t quite as much into Diego as Diego might like. Or am I falling into the well of wishful thinking?

Heath turned and walked out. He was feeling quite proud of himself until he realised tears were trickling down his cheeks. He really hoped that hadn’t started until he had his back to them.

It was most unlike him not to take in the Christmas decorations he passed on his way back to the flat. He loved Christmas but his heart was still struggling. All his plans for the holidays had disintegrated. He was going to be on his own and it hurt.

Packing his things didn’t take long, though he had to overfill his on-its-last-legs suitcase to make sure he took everything. His name wasn’t on any of the bills. He paid his share of costs to Diego by bank transfer, so he put a stop to that right away. He took just one item of Diego’s with him and forced it into the case with no small amount of pleasure. Diego would probably miss it more than he did Heath.

Back out on the street, Heath had second thoughts about a hotel. This close to Christmas, prices would be sky high. Maybe he could stay with a friend. Not that he had many who weren’t shared with Diego. But Stef, who was his friend, didn’t answer his call. Heath didn’t bother leaving a message. He needed somewhere to stay right now.

He tried his aunt. She might not have wanted him when he was a young boy, but it was different now he was in his twenties. Wasn’t it? She occasionally asked him for dinner which showed she cared…a bit. Though not enough to ever have something he liked to eat on the menu.

“Hello?” Her high-pitched, cultured voice grated like nails on a blackboard and a shudder went through Heath’s body.

“It’s Heath. I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve nowhere to stay tonight and I wondered if I could use one of your spare rooms.” He crossed his fingers.

“Why on earth do you have nowhere to stay?”

“Diego broke up with me.”

“But he’s so lovely! What did you do to upset him?”

Heath ignored the question. She’d met Diego once. ONCE! Of course, Diego had behaved impeccably and smothered her with flattering comments. What a beautiful dress. The colour is perfect for you. You have a great sense of style. I love your hair. What a charming house.

“Can’t you apologise?”

Heath clenched his teeth, then had to unclench them. “He’s with someone else. Can I come and stay? Please?”

She gave a long sigh that sounded as if all the troubles of the world had landed on her shoulders, rather than her distressed only nephew.

“It’s my bridge night tomorrow.”

So what? “I won’t be any trouble,” Heath whispered. The same thing he’d said when as an eight-year-old, he’d been taken to his aunt’s by social workers trying to persuade her to look after him. Epic fail. He still remembered the look of horror on her face at the thought of caring full time for her sister’s son.

“I suppose a few days will be acceptable,” she said.

“Thank you.” Though he was hoping for longer really, until he found a place of his own.

The more money he saved while he looked the better. He’d need more than a month’s deposit for any flat he wanted to rent. London prices were ridiculous.

Heath struggled on and off three buses to get across the city to Belgravia. The only plus about the journey was being able to see the Christmas lights in each of the districts he travelled through. Now he had a free bed for the night, he’d cheered up. He gazed at angels strung across the streets, penguins and reindeer on the lampposts, stencils in shop windows, the twinkling trees… He might currently be miserable but he felt relieved he could find pleasure in the decorations and admire all the work that went into them. Belgravia looked very classy with huge blue bows everywhere, pedestrianised streets lit up underneath a canopy of twinkling Christmas lights. Almost enough to revive his damaged heart.

At least Diego hadn’t dumped him on Christmas Eve. Heath had time to get over this and cheer the fuck up. An excellent plan.

A magnificent wreath hung on his aunt’s door. Not artificial. Only real foliage would do. Heath took a picture before he knocked. Not that he had anyone to share it with but if he found a place before Christmas, maybe he could make a wreath of his own. He’d wanted to make one for the place he and Diego had shared, but Diego had said no.

Heath knocked again.

Cooper, his aunt’s resident long-term butler-cum-chauffeur, who lived in the basement with his wife who was both cook and housekeeper, greeted Heath with a sneer on his face that made Heath feel about two inches tall, as usual. No Christmas cheer from him, so Heath smiled as broadly as he could.

“Hello, Cooper.”

“Good evening, sir. Your aunt has requested I show you directly to your room.”

Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred pounds or a cup of tea or a mince pie. Definitely don’t count on inheriting anything in his Aunt Lavinia’s will, despite the fact that she had no children and was Heath’s only blood-relative. Not that he wanted any of her money. He really didn’t. Just a little kindness would do. She tolerated him better now he was older, but the relationship between them wasn’t what he’d hoped for. Sit. Stand. Fetch. She really did treat him like a dog.

The Christmas tree brightened up the wood-panelled hall. A real one, smothered in expensive crystal ornaments he’d never been allowed to touch. Actually, he’d never been allowed within three feet of them. While he’d been in care, he’d been brought for visits at Christmas, given a present by his aunt—never one that was suitable for a child of his age, followed by tea in the kitchen—salmon paste sandwiches—what child eats those?—a bed for the night with the instruction not to wet it, which, of course, made him panic about doing exactly that, then sent away again to be forgotten until it was his birthday or the following Christmas, when the same thing was repeated.

“The tree looks lovely,” Heath said. No doubt the work of Cooper and his wife, directed by his aunt. “Very stylish.”

Cooper didn’t respond. Heath followed him up the stairs, making sure he didn’t bang the case on the wall or against Cooper’s ankles, tempted as he was. He was shown to the room he always stayed in. It hadn’t changed. It even smelt the same. Little about the house had changed since he was a child, apart from its value. Not that it mattered to him. It really didn’t. Oh God, stop saying that.

“You remember her ladyship’s rules.”

How old am I? And she wasn’t nobility . The rules hadn’t changed either, as far as he knew and if they had he didn’t want to know. “Yes.”

“Would you like to remind me, sir?”

Not really, since I’m not a nine-year-old, but… “No eating in the bedroom, no noise including laughing, no baths or showers after eight o’ clock, no snacking, no wetting the bed, no sliding down the banister…” He’d hoped that might raise a smile, but no. “No guests to be brought back to the house. Breakfast at seven. Dinner at seven if I’m invited to eat with my aunt, otherwise, I eat in the kitchen. No drunken behaviour.” No smiling. Don’t speak unless he was spoken to. Don’t breathe too much air. Don’t wear out the carpet. No wanking.

“I presume you’ve eaten, sir,” Cooper said.

Not a question. Heath hadn’t, but he had no appetite. “I’m fine, thank you.” He had a bar of chocolate in his case but he didn’t even want to eat that. I really am depressed.

Cooper inclined his head and left. Heath closed the door and sagged. If his aunt didn’t want to see him that night, he was better off staying in his room rather than risk bumping into her by wandering around the house like a miserable ghost. He hung up a few things in the wardrobe, showered and went to bed.

He hadn’t expected sleep to come easily and it didn’t. The rage that he’d barely managed to contain in the pub came bubbling to the surface. Dumped because Diego the Dickhead said Heath’s first response to anything was always no. Why was it wrong to be cautious? Who says yes without thinking about it? No one who was sensible. Certainly not Heath. Though he couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret that he’d said yes when Diego had first asked him out. The irony! The one time no would have been the right answer.

Had it all been no ever since?

Heath thought about it.

Unfortunately, those occasions when he’d said no filled his mind.

No, he did not want to go glamping because it was still camping, when all was said and done. No proper toilets. Spiders. Mud. What was wrong with wanting to be warm, dry and comfortable? He’d been shocked Diego had even suggested it because there wouldn’t have been any hairdryers.

No, Heath did not want to stay in and watch football. Even if it was Diego’s favourite team. Heath had even got that wrong. Not Man United but Man City. He sighed.

No, he did not want to go halves on a fifty-inch TV. Not to watch football or darts or some scary horror film. Maybe PornHub, but wasn’t the one they had big enough?

No, he did not want to be woken up for a shag when drunken Dickhead rolled in at two in the morning. Now he wondered if he’d come from Benny’s place and found himself grinding his teeth.

No, he did not want to go on holiday to Ibiza. Not to spend his time with Dickhead’s pals who always drank too much, threw up on the street and did stupid things like break a leg jumping onto a car. One trip with them was more than enough.

Was any of that being unreasonable?

No.

Yet Heath had to listen to no from Diego to ice-skating, a trip to the British Museum, a sleepover in the Science Museum and a pottery course.

Ah. We weren’t a good match. The thought eased his pain and he managed to sleep.

Heath behaved perfectly in his aunt’s house, probably why she let him stay longer than a couple of days. He followed all the rules—almost—but he wanked very carefully and quietly. Riding the banister was tempting but he resisted. Sadly, trying to find a flat without a regular income was impossible. He’d fail any credit check. Unfortunately, the job market was particularly slack this close to Christmas. He’d been interviewed twice on Zoom, sitting in his suit jacket on the floor in the bedroom, his back to a white wall because anywhere else in there was too chintzy for a background. But all to no avail. He wasn’t wanted. Tomorrow, he’d look outside London for work.

Going to an STD clinic had been stressful, but necessary. He was clear. Not that he and Diego had fucked without condoms, though Diego had been pressing him lately. Lucky escape there. At least Heath could now think about Diego without getting a lump in his throat.

Dinner with his aunt was painful. Heath didn’t expect a deluge of sympathy, but he had hoped for copious amounts of alcohol. Instead, each evening, he was offered a tiny dry sherry before dinner and a small glass of wine with the meal.

Heath could feel the guillotine readying to fall on his stay.

This lunchtime, she had that look in her eye.

“Have you found a job yet?” she asked.

“No.”

“A place to live?”

“No.” He’d already told her but he told her again. “Unless I have a job, I’ll fail a credit check. If I had a guarantor, I—”

“Excuses.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if she were swatting a fly.

Not an excuse, a reason. She’d already refused to act as his guarantor. It hurt.

“You should have thought of the consequences when you walked out of your employment. Lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself is not productive. Your stay has come to an end. I’m off to Peru and you have to move out.”

Peru? Heath thought she’d made it up just to get rid of him, but when her friend, Bethesda, came round after lunch to discuss their travel plans, Heath accepted she was telling the truth and was relieved he’d not made a joke about Paddington Bear. Not that she’d have got it.

Then he was the one who had to listen to no.

No, Heath couldn’t stay in her house while she was away.

No, not even until after Christmas.

No, no, no, no, no.

So he called Stef again and this time she answered.

“Hi, Heath! What’s up?”

“I need to couch surf for a while. Can you help?”

“Uh oh. No more Diego?”

“He decided he liked my boss better. So no job either.”

“Shit! What a bastard! Of course you can stay. Come over tonight. I’m back from work at six. We’ll have pizza and wine.”

Heath breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t correct Stef in her assumption that Benny had fired him.

After spending the afternoon searching online for any office work, anywhere, rather than the job he was qualified to do, and still not finding much that tempted, Heath decamped to Stef’s and melted into her hug. That, plus the pizza and two bottles of wine went a long way to making him feel more upbeat. There would be a job. He just had to keep looking.

Stef’s flatmate, Anne-Marie, sat on one side of him on the couch, Stef on the other, all three of them full of food and alcohol.

“You’re better off without him, you know that,” Stef said.

“Yes.”

“Though you could have done with keeping your job, at least until you got a flat,” Anne-Marie added.

Of course, Heath had blurted the truth when pushed. He wondered how she’d feel about working for a woman her boyfriend had left her for. But he said nothing. He slept on the couch in a warm flat and was grateful he wasn’t having to pay for a hotel.

When he found out Stef was going to her parents’ for Christmas, Heath let himself hope he could use her bed until she came back.

But no… Stef had promised her room to Anne-Marie’s sister so Heath was out of luck. Such was his life.

“Except…” Stef said and narrowed her eyes.

“Except what?” Heath asked.

“You have to promise to be good.”

“When am I ever not good?” He even had problems walking the wrong way down a one-way street. Keep off the grass was a rule he never broke. As for dropping litter…never. He almost shuddered at the thought.

“I’m just going to make a call,” Stef said. “Cross your fingers.”

Heath waited impatiently for her to come out of her bedroom, but he was reassured by the smile on her face when she emerged.

She dropped down onto the couch. “Fabian is away for two months in Costa Rica. Well, one month left now before he comes back.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Who else?” She glared.

“Sorry.”

“I’ve been going out with him for a year, Heath!”

“Sorry. Yes.”

“His flat is gorgeous. I have a key. And he said yes you can stay.”

Hope bubbled up like champagne, bubbles bursting in his throat.

Yes, Heath would keep it tidy.

Yes, he’d move the mail which would save Stef the bother of trekking over there.

Yes, he’d pay towards the bills.

Yes, he’d leave the place looking as if he’d never been there. Promise!

Easy yeses.