PROLOGUE

London, January 2022

Jorge picked up the phone and did not even get a hello out before he heard Calem’s voice.

“I think we broke up!” Calem said.

Jorge sat down in front of the fireplace, lighting a cigarette.

“Whatever happened, cara?”

“We had another argument about me coming to visit you tomorrow without him. Amir stormed out when I said he was being silly. I don’t think he is coming back… in fact, he placed his flat keys on the table when he left.”

“Honestly, when I saw you guys last, I could feel tension between you. I liked him, but I didn’t think he was a good fit for you as your boyfriend.”

Calem dropped Amir’s keys into the open desk drawer.

“I know. You already told me.”

“Are you going to try and patch things up?”

“No. If he wants to leave, he should leave!”

Jorge remained silent for a moment, as he took another drag on his cigarette.

“But you are still coming to Lisbon tomorrow?”

A moment of silence followed.

Calem looked at the keys but felt too tired to do anything.

“Of course, I’m coming! But I might be a little deflated!”

“That’s okay. You were there for me when Matthew and I broke up… every second. So don’t think twice about it. We will have fun when I’m not singing.”

Calem heard the concern in Jorge’s voice, as though Jorge had extended a virtual hand, gently resting it on his shoulder with a touch of warmth and deep understanding.

“Okay, let me finish packing. I’ll see you tomorrow around midday, ciao!”

“Ciao!”

They hung up.

The next morning Calem took the 4 a.m. bus from Paddington to Stansted to arrive in Lisbon a few hours later. To Calem Lisbon always seemed like a smaller, but friendlier, if less glamourous version of Paris… Lisbon’s vibrant and historic city centre, with its diverse architecture ranging from the ancient Moorish remnants in the historic Alfama district to the Manueline-style buildings from the Age of Exploration, and the more contemporary designs in newer areas of the city, made him feel at home. Calem was reasonably acquainted with the city. He loved Belém for its gargantuan Mosteiro dos Jerónimos complex, Bairro Alto for its nightlife and quirky bars, but he loved the downtown Baixa area with its elegant plazas and grand avenues where Jorge was staying the most. It was also in Baixa where Jorge was making his debut in the title role of Gluck’s Paride ed Elena in the São Carlos that season.

As Calem emerged from the metro station into Restauradores Square, the crisp air bit at his cheeks, leaving a tingling sensation. The obelisk outside the metro still stood tall, making a seemingly solitary salute into the pale sky. The city had already woken up, but the atmosphere was filled with serene quietness, broken only by the occasional distant sounds of footsteps and the subtle hum of city life.

The winter sunlight, though muted, painted the square with a soft glow, casting long shadows on the cobblestone pavement. Walking down Avenida da Liberdade, the grandeur of the boulevard seemed to amplify the chill in the air. Tall trees lined the path, their bare branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the occasional gust of wind made them shiver.

The cold air stung Calem’s face, and he felt a subtle warmth against his cheeks - not from the weather, but from the tears welling up again in his eyes. Perhaps it was the brisk wind or the reminder of the end of yet another failed relationship that stirred his emotions, causing tears to form and glisten on his skin. The walk from the metro to the flat was beastly, and it occurred to him that he should have taken a cab from the airport. Ten minutes and a steep hill incline later, he stood in front of Jorge’s apartment building. Calem had barely pressed the doorbell when the door buzzed open.

As Jorge opened the door and observed the faint, dark circles around Calem’s red eyes, he extended his arms for a hug, wearing a smile that masked his concern.

“The flat is gorgeous!”

Jorge giggled with delight as he felt Calem’s cold cheek against his own.

“You look… like hell… sorry, but you do. Please, come in quickly!”

Calem held up his hand dramatically against his head as he entered the flat.

“Well, I haven’t slept. And I have been crying for most of the night, and on the way here.”

Jorge playfully slapped Calem’s backside as he welcomed him into the flat.

“Well, you are here now. Let’s see about cheering you up.”

“Oh God, do I have to do that too!”

Jorge lifted his hand as if he were about to strike Calem.

“Yes. And also let me slap you for ignoring my warning about him!”

“Yes, I know!”

Jorge looked at Calem in disbelief.

“Is it just the one backpack?”

“Jorge, you know I always travel lightly. Even during my six-month sabbatical through North Africa and the Middle East, all I had was this one backpack.”

“Christ, how do you do it? I’m like Adela Quested when I go for a walk to the park! Anyway, settle in, and let’s have a coffee in the kitchen. I got you pastéis de nata from your bakery.”

Jorge wore a naughty smile on his face, fully aware that Calem was once again on a diet. However, he also knew that Calem needed some cheering up, and he could not resist those tempting custard tarts.

Calem pretended to frown.

“Oh God! I’m on a diet!”

Jorge laughed as he walked out of the room.

“I know. That’s why I bought them!”

The kitchen was cosy despite its enormous size. Its most attractive feature was the fireplace in the corner of the kitchen which heated the room very efficiently despite its size. The gentle crackle of dry wood, popped softly as wisps of smoke gave way to a fragrant scent of the logs burning. The flames leapt and swayed in a mesmerising choreography, as it changed colours between orange and yellow that radiated a pulsating, gentle heat into the room. Jorge was already sitting by the fireplace answering messages on his phone and did not notice Calem walking in. When Calem refilled the kettle, Jorge looked up at him for a second before returning his attention to his phone.

Calem settled into a seat and extended his hands toward the crackling fire.

“Another two hundred messages to answer on Grindr?”

“Yes! So many Mr. Right Now’s to devastate! Whatever shall I do?”

Calem laughed as he walked over to the kettle to make coffee for them.

“Tomorrow is the prima, right?”

“Yes.”

Jorge reached for a pastéis and scoffed it down in one bite.

“Do you feel ready?”

“Yes! Thankfully, everything has gone really well. The rehearsal period has been a delight for a change. No diva tantrums and so on…”

When Jorge looked up, Calem checked his phone for a message that Jorge knew would never arrive.

“Come on, you are better off. Time heals everything. You remember what a mess I was last year.”

Jorge got up to empty his astray into the bin and returned with more pastéis.

“You are smoking again?”

Jorge looked guilty initially, but responded with hearty laughter that resembled a cross between Scooby-Doo’s whimsical laughter and an operatic chromatic descending scale.

“Well, you know me. I always have to have something in my mouth!”

Calem’s expression shifted abruptly, becoming unexpectedly serious. He took a deliberate sip of his coffee.

“God, it never gets better!” Calem said.

“Things never get better! But we do!”

Jorge settled back more comfortably into his chair.

“I actually thought at last I found someone similar to Ben.”

“Well, there’s your first mistake.”

Calem raised his cup, as if partaking in a silent toast, bringing the cup to his mouth, but suddenly opting not to drink. He gently set it back down on the small table beside him.

“I know, I know. But he was my first love, my first boyfriend, my first everything, and the memory of him casts a shadow over every man I am with.”

Jorge eyed another pastéis as he took a sip of coffee.

“You always speak cryptically about this man. What exactly happened between the two of you? You always make references without any detail!”

Calem took a sip of coffee, staring into the fireplace.

“Hmm, deliciousness! Just as I like my men: white and weak!”

Jorge laughed loudly as he leaned toward Calem.

“If that were only so, you wouldn’t be in this state!”

“I suppose so.”

“So, are you going to tell me, or not?”

The wood in the fireplace crackled softly, harmonising with the moment as Calem took another sip of his coffee and eased into his chair…