My Not So Perfect Life(33)

This party is also very much not “norm-Christmas.” There’s a photo booth in the corner, and black and white balloons reading Naughty and Nice float everywhere. The snacks are themed after the brands on our client list, and the DJ is firmly un-Christmassy—Slade hasn’t been played once. And there’d been no sign of Alex all evening. I thought I’d got away with it. I was actually quite enjoying myself.

But now, suddenly, here he is, looking gorgeous in a black-and-white geometric-print shirt. There’s a little grin playing at his mouth as he looks around, a glass in his hand. Before he can spot me, I turn around and head to the dance floor. Not that I’m planning to dance, but it’s a safe place to hide.

After Portobello, the rest of the weekend passed in a dispiriting nothingness. I watched telly, went on Instagram. Then I came into the office this morning, finally finished my surveys, answered Flora’s concerned questions about my sudden bug, and wondered whether to pull out of the Christmas party.

But no. That would be pathetic. Anyway, it’s a free evening out, and I have been having a good time. I keep remembering Flora’s invitation to join the pub gang and feeling a glow of warmth. These guys are my friends. At least…they will be my friends. Maybe I’ll work here for five years, ten years, rise up through the ranks….

My eyes have swiveled back to the bar. I can see Alex talking intently to Demeter and feel a fresh pang at my own stupidity. Look at the pair of them. Their eyes are about five inches apart. They’re unaware of anyone else. Of course they’re sleeping together.



“Hey, Cat!” Flora comes dancing up to me, all glittery in her sequins. “I’m going to go and fess up to my Secret Santa.” Her words are slurred and I realize she’s got quite pissed. Actually, I think everyone’s quite pissed. Free drink will do that to you.

“You can’t!” I say. “It’s Secret Santa. That’s the point.”

“But I want to get credit for it!” She pouts. “I found such a cool present. I spent much more than the limit,” she adds in loud, drunken, confidential tones. “I spent fifty quid.”

“Flora!” I laugh in shock. “You’re not supposed to do that. And you’re not supposed to tell the person who you are either.”

“Don’t care. Come on!” She grabs my arm, tottering on her heels. “Shit. I should not have had those mojitos….” She drags me across the room, and before I can blink, or think, or escape, we’re standing in front of Alex Astalis.

My face floods with color and I glance at Demeter, who has briefly turned away to talk to Adrian.

“Hi, Katie-Cat,” says Alex easily, and my face gets even hotter. But thankfully Flora doesn’t seem to have noticed. She really is very drunk.

“I’m your Secret Santa!” she says in blurred tones. “Did you like it?”

“The Paul Smith hat.” He looks a bit taken aback. “That was you?”

“Cool, huh?” Flora sways a little, and I grab her.

“Very cool.” He shakes his head with mock disapproval. “But was it under a tenner?”

“A tenner? Are you kidding?” Flora lurches again, and this time Alex grabs her.



“I’m sorry,” I say apologetically. “I think she’s a bit…”

“I’m not drunk!” says Flora emphatically. “I’m not—” She topples and clutches Alex’s sleeve. As she does so, it rides up, and his tattoo becomes visible. “Hey!” she says in surprise. “You’ve got a tat-tat—” She’s so drunk she can’t say the word. “A tat-tat—”

“I am not losing control!” Demeter’s voice suddenly fires up in fury, and I start with shock. Is Demeter having a row with Adrian? At the Christmas party? Alex’s eyes are tense, and I can tell he’s listening to that conversation, not paying attention to us.

“Demeter, that’s not what I’m saying.” Adrian’s voice is calm and soothing. “But you must admit…quite concerned…” I can’t exactly hear what he’s saying over the hubbub.

“You’ve got a tat-too!” Finally Flora manages to articulate the word.

“Yes.” Alex nods, looking amused. “I’ve got a tattoo. Well done.”

“But…” Her eyes swivel to me. I can see her alcohol-addled mind working. “Hang on.” She looks back at Alex. “Dark hair, tattoo…and you were asking about him.”

My heart starts to thud along with the beat of the music. “Flora, let’s go,” I say quickly, and pull at her arm, but she doesn’t move.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Stop!” I feel a white-hot horror. “Let’s go.” But Flora can’t be shifted.

“This is your man, isn’t it?” She looks delighted. “I knew it was someone at work. She’s in love with you,” she tells Alex, poking me drunkenly for emphasis. “You know. Secretly.” She puts a finger to her lips.



My insides have collapsed. This can’t be happening. Can’t I just teleport out of this situation, out of this party, out of my life?

Alex meets my eyes and I can see it all in his expression. Shock…pity…more pity. And then even more pity.