Chapter 10

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Chapter 10: Explanations

I stared at the picture for a long time without really seeing it. I was numb with shock. I didn't think that anyone could hurt me more than H. did, but seeing Kinkaid kissing another man, his partner no less, felt like an even bigger betrayal. Emotions ricocheted inside me, tearing my heart into shreds, though I still couldn't feel it. I sat without moving, stunned, at a complete loss as to what to do next. There was nowhere for me to go, no one to speak to. Once again, I was completely alone.

Ordinarily, at a time like this I would have turned to Greg, but Dré's dire prediction about Viktor and his reaction stopped me cold. I simply could not put my best mate in that position. If I never asked for his help, he'd never have to choose between me and Viktor, and I wouldn't be reminded that once again I was on a losing side.

Eventually I realized that I needed to call work to tell them I wasn't coming in. When I turned on my phone, I saw dozens of messages. Against my better judgment I retrieved them, listening to several messages from Dré and Greg, then, surprisingly, Vince, and finally Kinkaid. The latter I couldn't listen to at all, deleting them as soon as I heard a hint of his voice. My friends' messages were laced with increasing concern, enough that I knew it was only a matter of time before they showed upon my doorstep looking for explanations. I wasn't up to seeing them, so after calling work and using the excuse of a vague family emergency to secure a week's leave, I dialed a familiar number, almost sighing with relief when I heard my father's greeting.

"Dad," I said, nearly choking up. "I know this is going to sound strange, but I need to get out of London for a few days. Would it be okay if I crashed at the cottage?"

I could almost see his concerned frown. "Son, you know you're welcome to use the cottage any time. It's your home as much as it is ours. Is everything okay, though? Are you in some kind of trouble? My schedule is fairly light this week. We could come back if you needed us. Or you could come stay with us here."

I took a deep breath and actually considered each option. I'd always had a good relationship with my parents, and there had been many occasions when I took comfort in their company. But if I saw them, they'd want to know what happened, and I wasn't yet ready to discuss the Kinkaid situation with anyone. It would be better for me to spend some time at the cottage alone, where I'd be able to think, rather than my parents flying back from Turkey, where my father was the Ambassador, or me traveling to see them.

"Thanks, Dad. I swear, I'm not in any trouble and I appreciate the offer, but I think this time I just need to be by myself, yeah?"

I heard my father sigh in the background and felt badly about not being more forthcoming. My parents were already in their mid-thirties when they met, both having careers with the Foreign Office, neither giving much through to marriage and family until literally running into their soul mate at a diplomatic function in Paris. My mother stumbled over a loose rug, spilling red wine over my father's shirt. Fortunately, they were able to laugh it off and retired to an out of the way corner where father would not be seen with the unsightly stain and the two of them had plenty of time to get to know each other. It took them three more years of separate postings to determine that they couldn't live without one another, and then another two years before mum got pregnant. I was their one and only child and the three of us had always been close, which meant their feelings were always hurt when they sensed I was holding back. But as much as I loved them, there were things a son just didn't share with his parents, and this was one of them. Fortunately, they never pried or pushed, trusting me enough to let me come to them on my terms.

"All right, Cedric. When are you going? I'll call the Hawkinses to let them know you're coming and get the car to the station."

John and Mathilda Hawkins were a local couple hired by my parents to keep an eye on the cottage and maintain the grounds. They also usually dropped off my parents' car at the Moreton-in-Marsh railway station, so that we could easily get to the cottage upon our arrival.

"Three or four, I'm not sure yet. It's just a short holiday to clear my head."

"I'll pass that along. And Son, you know you can always talk to us, about anything," he reiterated.

"I know, Dad," I assured him. "Thanks! Give Mum my love, yeah?"

I packed hastily and haphazardly, worried that I might not make it out of the flat before one of my mates arrived, knowing that the cottage would likely have anything I forgot to bring along. I made a point, however, of throwing in the newspaper. I wasn't yet ready to read the article that accompanied the picture, but I wanted to have it with me for when I finally could.

With my briefcase and overnight bag in hand, I locked up my flat and headed to Paddington station. I lucked out, having less than an hour's wait until the train's departure. My phone's periodic vibrations alerting me to incoming calls were annoying, but I didn't want to turn it off completely in case my parents or one of the Hawkinses needed to reach me. I was therefore stuck looking at the display, seeing Kinkaid's number come up again and again. Eventually, frustrated, I accepted a call and barked two words into the receiver in greeting.

"Stop calling!"

I had every intention of terminating the connection immediately, but his "Cedric, please don't hang up," was so pitiful it gave me pause.

"I can't talk to you right now, Kinkaid," I told him.

"Just let me explain," he begged.

"Is that man in the photo your partner?" I asked point blank.

He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Is he your partner?" I persisted.

"Technically, but..." I cut off his attempt to offer justifications.

"Technically? What the fuck does that mean, technically? Oh, wait, I think I know. My mates all think now that I'm a habitual cheater, and I guess technically they're right."

"Cedric, I'm so sorry..."

"That's not good enough. If you have any respect for me at all, you'll leave me alone. Good bye."

I ended the call and replaced the phone in my pocket angrily. I tensed, half expecting it to start ringing again, but it stayed silent and, eventually, I relaxed. By the time I boarded and the train left the station, the anger had worn off and I was left with my melancholy. Try as I might, I couldn't stop feeling sorry for myself. I didn't understand what I'd done in life bad enough to merit this kind of repeated suffering. I obviously fucked up with Jasper, but otherwise I'd been a pretty good guy. I didn't feel I deserved all the crap life was throwing my way.

Ninety minutes later I got off the train at Moreton-in-Marsh. Exiting the station, I immediately spotted my parents Bentley Mulsanne. I placed my bag in the boot and left the car in the car park while I walked over to the Tesco Express to stock up on the food and beer I'd need during my stay. When I got done I added the groceries to the boot and drove to my parents' cottage on the southern edge of Bourton on the Water.

When they were contemplating this purchase, with eventual retirement in mind, my parents deliberately chose a location further away from the center of the village, which afforded more privacy and a true country feel. I hadn't appreciated it before, but as I pulled into the long driveway, I was grateful for the lack of prying neighbors who, were they located closer, might be tempted to stop in for tea and a chat. I was definitely not in the mood to entertain anyone, least of all people I barely knew who happened to live in the same town as my parents. It only now occurred to me that when my parents chose this home, they must have felt exactly the same way.

Unsurprisingly, Mathilda had aired out the home, leaving me a small basket of fresh produce from her garden on the kitchen table along with a note not to forget to stop in to see her and John during my stay. My parents had only owned the cottage for about 8 years, so the relationship with the Hawkinses was not a lifelong one, but they were a sweet couple and I knew I could not refuse. The visit would have to wait a while, though, until I was better emotionally equipped for contact with other people.

My first evening at the cottage I just moped, trying unsuccessfully to distract myself with bad TV. As if to thwart me, there was precious little on but bad comedies and sappy romances, the former doing nothing to make me laugh and the latter threatening to send me into an even deeper depression. I called my parents to let them know I'd arrived and that the house was exactly as they left it. Mum tried her hand at getting me to talk, but backed off just as Dad had when I resisted.

Kinkaid had stopped trying to call me, and I didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, I was grateful that the phone was no longer buzzing annoyingly every five minutes. On the other, it was rather demoralizing that he'd given up so easily. Then again, I imagined he'd had his hands full handling his partner, and repeated phone calls to me might be difficult to explain as they were lying side by side in bed, doing God only knew what to each other. The thought of Kinkaid with another man made my stomach churn, and since could not stop thinking about it, I spent the evening in a rather queasy state.

Vince and Dré stopped trying to reach me as well, but Greg hadn't, calling about once an hour. Instead of picking up, I listened to the messages. At first he cajoled, but eventually threatened that unless I rang him back he would call my parents first and go to the police second. It was probably an empty threat, but it was enough to make me call him back.

"About bloody time, Rick!" he yell-growled into the phone. "We've been fucking frantic worrying about you. Where is your head, just disappearing on us like that?'

"I'm an adult, Greg," I said dully. "I don't need to tell you every time I bloody feel like taking a holiday, do I?"

"Oh, is that what happened? Felt like taking a bloody holiday, did you? Just coincidentally felt like doing that on the day your man appears in a newspaper photo kissing another man? I'm not an idiot, Rick. Times like this you talk to your best mate, not run away. Where the hell are you, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter where I am, and I already spoke with Dré this morning, so I knew what my mates thought."

"Dré, that bloody wanker," Greg muttered. "You should know better than to listen to him."

"He only said what everyone's thinking."

"If that's what you think, then you're as dumb as he is," Greg replied heatedly. "When he told me what he'd said to you this morning I just about ripped him a new one. Even Vince was angry."

I considered this. Vince usually tried to moderate Dré's behavior and often soothed hurt feelings on the quiet, but it took a whole lot to make him angry with Dré. Greg's observation explained why Dré himself had called and left a message with a grudging apology earlier. Vince must have been a dragon breathing fire on his neck to 'cause Dré to make that call. I briefly wondered why this, of all things, would provoke such a reaction from our usually dead calm friend, but then decided this was not as important as the other question I needed answered.

"So you don't think I deliberately dated an attached man?" I asked timidly, afraid of his response.

Greg sighed and his voice lost its edge. "No, Rick. Of course I don't think that. Whatever you did with H. while you were still with Jasper, it was because it was H. I know it tore you up and I know you wouldn't knowingly do that to anyone else, even another man's partner. Besides, unless Kinkaid outright told you about this man, there was no way you could have known he existed. I was suspicious when Kinkaid was so reluctant to go public with your relationship, so I did a lot of digging, using all the resources I could think of, and came up empty. I don't know if the newspaper account is right or not, but if it is, Kinkaid kept the relationship very well hidden. There's not a hint of it anywhere in any public resources."

"I haven't read the paper," I confessed, "so I have no idea what they said. But he called me earlier and confirmed that the man is his partner. Technically, he said, whatever the fuck that means. To me a partner is a partner."

"Jesus, Rick, I'm sorry. I had my reservations about him, but he didn't strike me as a liar. I know you really care about him. I wish there was something I could do."

"Cared, Greg. Past tense. It's over. We spoke this morning I told him to stop calling and he has, so it's done. I'm just gonna stay out of town for a few days, clear my head, and then everything will be as it was before I met him."

"Rick, mate, it's not good for you to shut yourself off like that. Tell me where you are. I can meet you and we can spend a few days together, just the two of us."

I snorted. "Oh, I'm sure Viktor would love that. Given how he felt about me before all this came out, do you really think he would let you take off to spend a couple of days alone with me? Not bloody likely."

He didn't reply immediately. "Just tell me where you are, Rick." he finally said.

"Greg, no offense, mate, but I really just want to be alone for a while. I need to resolve this in my head somehow, make peace, and then I'll be back."

"Okay," he conceded. "But call me if you need to talk, yeah? Any time!"

I tried to sleep that night, without much success. Although I had my own bedroom in my parents' house, I didn't spend enough time here for it to feel truly mine, so it wasn't comforting. I felt displaced, fearing that my flat would now too feel tainted somehow, permeated with Kinkaid's smell and presence. The various ways he had ingrained himself into my life meant that thinking of the place I once treasured as my own also brought no comfort. Finally, around four in the morning I got up, flipped on the bedside lamp, and pulled the Times out of my bag. Sitting cross-legged on top of the covers and hunched over, I spread out the newspaper, turned to the business page and began to read.

The article wasn't particularly illuminating. Most of it was about MacGregor Consulting and the company's various international successes. It wasn't until the third paragraph that there was any mention of the other man in the photo. Apparently his name was Colin Creevey, and he'd been with MacGregor Consulting for over three years, the last of which was in the position of director at the company's Sydney branch. With the opening of the Melbourne branch he was being promoted to Vice President and the head of the new office. The article included a standard quote about Creevey's excitement about the new opportunity and his ambitions for the new branch's future. There were no quotes about Kinkaid, or Creevey's relationship with him, except a line indicating Creevey's confirmation that he and Kinkaid had been more than business associates for over 2 years. Furious with myself for being so blindsided by the revelation, I crumpled the entire paper angrily and tossed it to the floor.

I turned off the lamp and got back in bed, but my mind could not disengage enough for me to fall asleep. I kept replaying every moment Kinkaid and I had spent together, every conversation, trying to figure out what I'd missed. As I thought about it, really thought about it, I could spot a few clues, but still nothing so obvious that I had to feel like a blind fool. Kinkaid had just been exceptionally good at hiding his relationship. There wasn't even a hint of it at his place, and any suspicious behavior could have been due to his business dealings, as I originally thought. Still pissed off, but satisfied that at least I hadn't been completely gullible, I was finally able to close my eyes and get a few hours of sleep.

But the time I woke up it was nearly lunch time. Weather outside was typically dreary, with a gray sky and drizzle that seemed to hang in the air like a giant spider web. Tired of my own company, I decided to head into town to grab a bite to eat. The town center was just far enough away not to want to walk in the mist, so I drove the few minutes and found parking near the Croft. The restaurant was on the bank of the river Windrush, and its outdoor patio overlooking the water was a great place to eat on sunny days. This day, however, all the tables and chairs were covered by a wet sheen, and the view was dull and dismal. Even the normally vivid green of the grass and trees lining the river seemed faded and obscured. And the many bridges spanning the Windrush, while ordinarily so picturesque, hulked over the water they spanned, the bulk appearing unnecessary given the river's shallow depth.

Inside the restaurant I sat at one of the bare wood tables, doing my best to ignore the cheery yellow walls or the stares from the handful of other diners. I ordered soup and fish and chips, consciously selecting food that offered the comfort I needed. I stared down at the table as I waited for my order, sullen, wishing I had thought to bring something to read during this inevitably awkward time. I could have looked around, but doing so may have led to eye contact with someone, which could lead to conversation, which would definitely have been unwelcome. As it was, even staring at the table to avoid eye contact was not adequate protection.

"Hello," I heard a high pitched voice to my right and was forced to look at the speaker, who turned out to be a little girl, maybe six or seven years old. Her blond hair was plated into two braids and she wore a red and white polka-dot sundress that was cute despite being completely inappropriate for the dreary weather outside. She seemed shy, her eyes lowering when I looked at her, as if the greeting she managed to utter might have been too much for her. I was annoyed at her interruption, but she was too disarming for me to show it.

"Hello," I replied. "May I help you?"

"No," she shook her head, looking back at me for only a second before looking away again. "Do you want to eat lunch with me and my mum?" I followed her gaze to a table where a woman in her mid-thirties was watching our conversation with a small smile. When she saw I was looking she gave me a small wave.

"Katie thought you looked like you could use some company," she said in further explanation.

"Right," I nodded, trying to think of a way to talk myself out of this predicament. Then Katie looked at me with big, hazel eyes.

"You look sad all alone," she observed. "It's better to be with someone."

From the mouths of babes. I knew all too well that it was better to be with someone than to be alone, only it seemed after I messed up what I had with Jasper, I wasn't meant to be with anyone who wanted to be with only me. Even this little girl and her mum were only taking pity on me because I looked all pathetic, not because they actually wanted a lunchtime companion. Still, the girl was looking at me so expectantly, it was impossible to refuse her.

"You're absolutely right, Katie," I told her, and then turned to her mum. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all, as long as we're not disturbing you."

I stood up and followed Katie to their table. Our food arrived shortly thereafter and I spent the next hour learning about the Watson family and explaining about my own connection to Bourton, tenuous though it was.

"Oh, yes," Jennifer Watson nodded upon hearing where my parents lived. "Of course, you're Ambassador Diggory's son. What a pleasure to meet you. I don't know your parents well, but now you mention it, I definitely see the resemblance."

We chatted amiably throughout lunch. When Jennifer asked what brought me to Bourton while my parents were out of the country, I smoothly made up a story about work stress and needing a mini holiday. She clucked disapprovingly about the pace of life in London and accepted the explanation without a blink of an eye. Before I knew it, we were all done eating and it was time to part ways while the Watson ladies went on to a hair appointment and I returned to the cottage in a much better mood than I was in that morning.

I was still in a relatively good mood a couple of hours later, mostly because I'd managed to successfully distract myself from thinking about Kinkaid with my computer and television, when my leisurely afternoon was interrupted by the doorbell. I frowned, trying to think of who possibly could have been outside. The only non-strangers who came to mind were John and Mathilda, since they were the only ones who knew I was around and would not use their own key to gain entry. Of course, they were also likely to phone ahead and let me know they were coming, instead of popping in out of the blue. I was tempted to pretend that no one was home in the hopes that whoever was out there might go away, but the first ring was followed by a second, and then a third. Annoyed, I strode to the front door and flipped open the lock before flinging the door open. Words of greeting died on my lips when I saw who it was, and my jaw merely fell, causing me to stand there momentarily in open-mouthed shock. I quickly recovered, however, and snapped my mouth closed with determination, my lips setting into a thin disapproving line. It would have been polite to speak first, but I wasn't feeling particularly polite. Instead of talking, I grabbed the door and pushed it forward to close. His foot and hand simultaneously shot out to stop it before the door could meet the frame and the lock could click into place.

"Cedric," Kinkaid said pleadingly, "we need to talk. Please!"

I was still trying to work out in my head how it was even possible for him to be at my parents' front door when just the previous day he was in Australia, but that could wait until after he was gone.

"I have nothing to say to you. We said everything we needed to say yesterday."

"You don't understand. There's so much more to this than was in that article. Let me explain."

"I understand that you had a partner the entire time we were together, from the day we met, and that you never bothered to tell me about him. I understand that you cheated on him with me and probably on me with him. I understand that at least one of my friends assumed I was aware of your personal circumstances and chose to date you anyway. And I understand that this conversation is now over. Good bye!" I tried to push the door closed, but he was too strong. "Kinkaid, don't make involve the authorities. You're not welcome here. Please leave."

"Cedric, I know you're angry. You have every right to be. I was wrong not to tell you. I made a terrible mistake. But there's more to this than what you saw in that paper. Please, just hear me out. That's all I'm asking. Hear me out and if you still want me to leave afterwards I will, with no argument."

I was at war with myself. On the one hand, I didn't feel he deserved the chance to offer an explanation. On the other, I really wanted to hear what he had to say. Besides, what would it hurt to have more information? I relented and pulled the door open for him to come in.

"Fine," I said grudgingly. "But make it quick."

He stepped into the foyer and I closed the door behind him, then turned to see him still standing there. As large a man as he was, he looked a bit like a lost little boy, unsure of where to go or what to do. I pointed him towards the living room.

"Have a seat. I think I'm going to need a beer. Would you like something to drink?" I cringed internally at my politeness, but my mother's lessons were difficult to forget. A guest in the house ought to be treated with hospitality. I invited him in, so I needed to act the proper host.

"Whatever you're having is fine. I don't want to be a bother."

I nodded curtly.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

When I returned I found him standing by my mother's vignette of family photos. I narrowed my eyes, resenting his intrusion into yet more of my personal life when he had kept so much of his own from me. Reminding myself that there was nothing in those photos worth knowing anyway, I took a deep breath and walked over to him, handing him his glass.

"I'm listening," I said sharply, "But I don't have a lot of patience, so make it quick."

"Can we sit?" he asked, looking over towards the sofa. I shrugged my response, but walked to the sofa and sat down. He followed.

"All right. I know you want me to be brief, but I have to start at the beginning. I first met Colin four years ago. He was part of our intern program. He was young, but very bright and ambitious. He had no qualms about engineering ways to spend time around me. He knew I was gay, that's never been a secret, and he let me know that he was interested. I refused. He was too young and an intern. Although I was interested in him too, I couldn't risk the scandal."

I snorted at the familiar reasoning, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"When he went back to university he kept in touch and continued to pursue me. He made a compelling argument. He wasn't working for me anymore and his grades had been turned in. Other than the age difference, there would be nothing scandalous about us getting together. I admit I was flattered and I also admired his persistence. Eventually, I gave in. We started seeing each other, very quietly of course, out of the spotlight."

"Of course," I said bitterly under my breath. Kinkaid gave me a pained look but didn't reply. He took a drink of his beer, then continued the story.

"He was talented and we made him a job offer, as did another consulting firm. If he had gone to work for them, he would have been ethically bound to disclose our relationship, and it was possible that his offer would have been withdrawn. We decided, therefore, that he would work for MacGregor Consulting. He took an entry level position, but rose through the ranks quickly, on the merits of his talent and abilities. I did not interfere. It was all by the book."

I arched an eyebrow.

"All except for our personal relationship," he admitted. "After a year he moved into my flat and I wanted to go public, but he wanted to wait. He said he needed to prove himself, to show everyone that he didn't get as far as he did by sleeping with the boss. I didn't try too hard to change his mind. Keeping our relationship secret suited my purposes too."

He cleared his throat and took another swallow of beer.

"In time Colin reached as far as he could within the London office. There simply weren't any openings higher up. He began to get antsy. When the directorship in Sydney became available he told me he wanted to apply for the position. I was shocked, to say the least. We were in a relationship and suddenly he wanted to separate us by thousands of miles. Sure, we could afford to fly back and forth financially, but I couldn't add more time to my schedule. You know how tightly packed my calendar is. Frequent visits simply would not be possible. Not to mention it would look suspicious. I asked him not to apply. He told me he would not sacrifice his career advancement for me. It was either the directorship in Australia or he would go to work for the competition. He was too bright to let go work for the competition, especially given everything he had learned about our clients and our business, so I agreed to let him go."

"But you didn't end the relationship?" I confirmed.

"Not formally, no. But with the distance and time difference, a relationship wasn't feasible. We both knew it. We tried for a while, but it degenerated with time. I began to suspect there was someone else. He denied it, but I hired an investigator who confirmed my suspicions, complete with pictures. I received those the night we met."

I looked at him, startled. "Is that why you came to Molly's that night? Were you hoping to get even?"

"No," he shook his head. "I was hoping to get drunk. And to remind myself that there were other men out there that I could be with, even though I wasn't ready for that yet. I hadn't planned on talking to anyone that night, but there you were, irresistible."

I snorted. "Don't bother with the flattery."

"I'm being honest."

"If you knew he was cheating, why didn't you end it then?"

"I wanted to do it in person. There was no rush, and I felt I could control the fallout better if I was there with him. Colin can be quite...impulsive, volatile."

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"I didn't know how. As you can see, it's complicated. And at first, when we were two men getting to know each other, nothing more than friends, it didn't really matter. Later, when it did make a difference, when you confirmed you were attracted to me...I should have told you then, but I was afraid it would scare you off. I didn't want to lose you."

"Is that why you told me to sleep with other men?" I asked, getting a sudden epiphany. "So that you wouldn't have to feel guilty about cheating yourself?"

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "I understand why you might think that, but that wasn't the reason. It's just...Colin wasn't just unfaithful with one man. He saw several boys on a regular rotating basis. I'll admit that messed with my head. I wondered if it happened even when we were together in London. There were plenty of days when I was traveling and he was here alone, or when either he or I had to work late. When I thought back, I realized there had been clues I'd ignored. I wondered if it was me, the fact I was older. If I just wasn't enough for someone your age."

"I don't understand," I said and rubbing my forehead with my free hand. "If you knew he was cheating on you, why didn't you break it off in Japan? You saw him there, didn't you? That's why you came back so agitated? You could have ended it with him then. Or you could have told me about him before asking me to..."

"I wanted to break it off with him in Japan, but that was when he told me he applied to head the Melbourne office. If I had broken it off, and he didn't get the job, he could have claimed discrimination, harassment. I thought it would be better after the decision was made. And if he did get the job, the distance would be the perfect excuse to end it."

"So what happened? You just fucked him like before? And then you came home and fucked me and asked me to top you? Was that your way of feeling better about lying to me and cheating on me? Is that what it was all about?" I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice.

"No. He and I didn't do anything in Japan. I insisted we each stay in our rooms. I made excuses, but he sensed something was wrong. He confronted me, asked if I wanted to end it. I tried to deny it, but he remained suspicious. He grabbed my phone, tried to check my texts, but I had changed the password. He demanded that I unlock it for him. I countered that I would if he unlocked his first. It was a gamble that paid off, but it made the situation very tense."

"You should have told me when you came back," I echoed my earlier statement.

"You're right," he admitted. "I have no excuse. I was a coward."

"Even after I told you about H.?"

"What was I supposed to say? You'd just finished telling me what a bastard you thought H. was for thinking you would be fine with the cheating. How could I tell you I was just like him?"

I shook my head. "If everything you're telling me today is the truth, then your situation was completely different. If you had told me, if you had explained, the way you are doing now..."

"Would you have listened?"

"I don't know," I shook my head. Maybe not at first, but eventually. I'm listening now, aren't I? How the hell did you find me, anyway? And how did you get here so fast?"

"I was already at the airport when you picked up my call. I flew back immediately. When I landed I went to your flat, but obviously you weren't there. The receptionist at your office said you'd be out for a few days. That's when I went to see Greg."

"Greg wouldn't have spoken to you," I scoffed, certain that my best mate would not have betrayed my confidence.

"He didn't want to, at first. But I was desperate, so I told him everything about Colin, about lying to you."

"He still wouldn't have told you," I repeated stubbornly. "Besides, he didn't know himself where I was."

"He told me you were close with your parents, and often went to them if you had a problem. That's all he said. I did the rest. It took quite a bit of digging - the personal information of employees of the foreign service are not easy to obtain."

"Obviously you managed."

"I have a lot of contacts. I came here first because it was closer. I planned to go to Turkey next."

I looked at him sharply, "You would do that?"

"I love you, Rick. I would have gone anywhere to find you."

I shook my head, wanting to ignore his professions, at least until I heard the whole story.

"What happened in Australia?" I asked quietly.

"It was a disaster," Kinkaid stopped to drain the rest of his beer and set his glass aside, burying his head in his hands. "Obviously Colin got the promotion to head up the Melbourne office. I figure we both knew it was over and that it was safe to tell him. But I underestimated him. I'd been underestimating him the entire time. Melbourne is just a stepping stone for him. He wants it all. His plan was that someday I would step down and hand the entire company over to him. I didn't realize that right away. At first, he came at me with an act. He told me he loved me, that he'd missed me. He even told me about the other men and apologized, explained how empty the sex had been, how I was the only one who had ever satisfied him. He begged me for another chance."

"He padded your ego." I pointed out, bile rising in my throat. "And what did you do?"

"We had been together for a long time, Cedric. I thought I loved him..."

"You told me you loved me," I said flatly.

"I know, but he had been first, and I felt I owed it to him..."

"Stop!" I ordered. "If you're about to say what I think you are, you might as well save your breath and save us both the pain. I kept my promise. I heard what you had to say. Now get out."

"No, please hear me out," he begged. I started to get up and he grabbed my shoulders, keeping me on the sofa. "We fucked, it's true. But I swear, Cedric, I didn't enjoy a moment of it. The entire time I thought of you. I hardly even... I mean he did all the..."

"Jesus, Kaid! Can you fucking spare me? I don't want to know."

"It was mechanical, meaningless. He and I both knew it. You have to believe me, it meant nothing, except to reinforce how I felt about you."

"So it's over between you?" I asked, not sure what I would do if he said yes. "You broke it off?"

He looked to the floor.

"I tried," he said, sounding defeated. "I told him it was over, and he seemed to accept it. But then, at the opening, he grabbed me and announced our partnership to the public."

"And you did nothing," I concluded. I moved to stand again and this time he didn't try to stop me. I walked over to the fireplace mantle, deliberately increasing the distance between us.

"Cedric, what could I do? Deny it, right in front of all the reporters? Can you imagine the media frenzy? After he kissed me he whispered in my ear that if I said anything he would tell them that I seduced him when he was working for me as a student and when I got tired of him I shipped him to Australia. I had no doubt that he would do it, too."

"So now what, Kaid? Now that your ex-lover is blackmailing you, what are you going to do? And what do you expect me to do? Now that your relationship is public, the media will be more vigilant than ever. What exactly is your plan?"

"We'll have to be more careful," he acknowledged. "But it's not impossible, and it will only be for a while. In a year, maybe less, I'll have enough on him to make sure he keeps his mouth shut for the rest of his life. We'll announce that the distance made the relationship untenable and end it. And a few months later you and I can start seeing each other in public. It's not ideal, I admit, but it can work."

I shook my head. "No, it can't. That absolutely will not work for me."

He stared at me intently, as if willing me telepathically to change my mind. "Don't say that, Cedric," he finally entreated. "You haven't had a chance to think it through."

"I think I have, Kaid. What you're telling me right now is that your business is more important to you than I am. That you are not willing to break off a relationship with a man who you claim not to love, who cheated on you and who is extorting you, because it might cause harm to your reputation and your business. You're also telling me is that publicly you will continue this charade, pretending to be this man's partner. If you're together at an event and he attempts to kiss you or engage in some other public display, are you going to stop him? Of course not, because that would look suspicious. You want me to be the bit on the side, the other man, for your convenience, not considering at all how that will make me feel. Not considering at all how it would make me look if somehow someone found out and exposed this whole set up. Not caring what my friends and family would think, what some of them already think."

He cringed. "Cedric, how can you say that? Of course I care, I love you," he implored. I tilted my head.

"Maybe you do. I don't know. After everything I've heard I don't know what to believe anymore. I can't trust you. You slept with him even after everything you knew about his cheating, after you were with me, because you felt you owed him something? What if after a year of this sneaking around you still feel that way? How do I know you'll ever leave him at all?"

"I will leave him. I swear I will," he promised. I looked into his eyes. He tried to hide it, but underneath the top layer of earnestness there was fear. And suddenly I knew exactly how Jasper felt the night I told him what happened with H. Just like I did back then, Kinkaid wanted to believe he would do the right thing when the time came, but a part of him couldn't be sure. And I realized that, like Jasper, I couldn't live with the uncertainty. I shook my head.

"That's not good enough, Kinkaid. I don't want to spend any more of my life hoping and waiting for the day the man I'm with decides he's finally ready to openly acknowledge our relationship. I did that for years with H. and you know how that turned out. I can't do it again. Maybe if you had been honest from the start things would have been different now. I guess we'll never know. As it is, though...If you leave now you'll be in London before dark."

He opened his mouth, then closed it without uttering a word. Slowly, he stood up, his shoulders slumped. In all the time I knew him I had never seen him like this: dejected and defeated. "I will break it off with him," he said stubbornly. "I'll do it just the way I said, and when I do...I'll come find you." he looked up at me, his eyes filled with sadness.

I shrugged in a deliberate effort to dismiss his statement. "I'm not going to wait for you."

"I understand. I wouldn't expect you to wait. But if you happen to be free?" his voice hung on to a last thread of hope. I shrugged again.

"I suppose we'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

I turned and began walking to the front door, hearing him follow behind me. After I opened the door we stood awkwardly, about a foot apart and facing each other. He looked like he might have wanted to embrace, maybe more, but I held my body stiffly, not even offering a hand shake.

"Good luck, Kinkaid. I hope things work out for you however they're meant to."

"Thank you. I do too. Hope that. For both of us, I mean." He took a deep breath, then walked out to his car. I closed the door immediately, not wanting to watch him drive away. I leaned back against it, remembering our first kiss, the way he came back after leaving. I wondered if history would repeat itself? Did I want it too? I couldn't deny it would have been incredibly romantic to have him return, pounding on the door, yelling that he changed his mind; that he couldn't live without me and would break all contact with Colin immediately. It would have been incredibly romantic, but it didn't happen. Instead, his engine turned over and then I heard tires crunching on the gravel as he reversed out of my parent's drive onto the main road. With a sigh I walked back to the living room, this time heading for my father's liquor cabinet where I didn't find a cure, but a good deal of anaesthesia for my broken heart.