A Christmas Wedding(25)

‘I know what you mean,’ I say wryly.

‘You not happy?’

‘My new boss is a bit of a nightmare.’

‘I’ve heard that about her,’ he comments.

‘If her reputation precedes her, why do management promote people who can’t cut it?’ This annoys me immensely.

‘Who knows? Politics of a big company. Can’t say I miss it, even if I did like it while I was there.’

His new office is small but stylish, with big windows and far-reaching views across Camden to central London beyond. A slightly dishevelled-looking Neal jumps up to say hi, giving my hand a firm shake and taking his coffee from Alex with the enthusiasm of a caffeine addict. I find out that their business consists of just the two of them right now, but they’re hoping to employ more staff. They’ve got more work than they can manage, but they know all too well that things could slow down again.

‘How long have you got?’ Alex asks me when Neal takes a call on his mobile.

‘I’ve got to be at Rachel’s at seven,’ I say.

‘In Golders Green?’

‘Yeah.’

I shouldn’t be surprised he remembers where Rachel lives – he always was good at stuff like that.

‘That’s hours away. Do you want to get a drink?’ he asks.

I nod at the coffee he still hasn’t touched. ‘You’ve got one.’

‘No, I mean a proper drink.’

‘You can just leave?’

‘It’s Friday,’ he says with a grin. ‘And I’m the boss. One of them, anyway.’ He pats Neal on his back. ‘See you Monday,’ he whispers, grabbing the denim shirt hanging on the back of his chair.

Neal nods and gives him the thumbs-up, his eyes growing round and his mouth stretching into a goofy grin when Alex places his untouched coffee in front of him. Neal waves a manic little bye at me as we leave. I like him immensely.

‘Is there anything else you need to do in Camden while you’re here?’ Alex asks on the way back down in the lift.

‘No. What are you thinking?’ I cast him a look.

‘Shall we go to Hampstead?’

‘Hampstead?’ Random.

‘Yeah, it’s not far from Rachel’s. Less hectic than Camden. I brought my car in today and I live that way, so I could drop you to Rachel’s front door.’

Not random at all, as it turns out.

‘Are you sure? You really are finishing up for the day?’

‘I can work from home over the weekend.’

Something that feels a lot like pride bubbles up inside me. He’s so clever and talented.

Don’t get carried away, Bronte… I need to keep my feelings in check.

Alex’s car smells overwhelmingly like Alex. It’s almost too much, being so enveloped by him.

‘Where do you live?’ I ask.

‘West Hampstead,’ he replies. ‘I’ve been there for about three years now.’

‘Are your parents still in Crouch End?’

He glances at me. ‘Yeah, and Jo and Brian are in East Finchley, so we’re all pretty close by.’

I remember that Jo is his sister, of course, but I’ve never met her. I have met Brian, however. It was at his stag do that I first came across Alex.

‘They have a couple of kids now,’ he reveals, making casual conversation.

‘Do they? Boys? Girls?’

‘One of each. It’s my niece’s first birthday tomorrow, actually.’

‘Are you going?’

‘Yeah. My whole family will be there.’

I steal a glance at his tanned, toned forearms, his hands resting on the steering wheel. His denim shirt is, typically, rolled up past his elbows.

I always did think he had sexy forearms.

Steady on, I warn myself.

But there’s no ignoring my jitters.

He scratches his head and glances at me. ‘How’s Lachie?’

I turn to stare out of my side window. ‘We broke up.’

The car jolts and I shoot my head around to look at the road, but can’t see why he had to brake. Was it accidental?

‘When?’ he asks with disbelief.

‘Just before I came away.’

The silence stretches out before us, but his mind is ticking over.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says eventually. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Getting there.’ I look out of my window again and clear my throat. ‘How about you?’ I ask. ‘Any of those blind dates come to fruition?’

‘No,’ he replies, and, as I turn to glance at him, he catches my eye.

The jitters in my stomach intensify.

He takes me to the Holly Bush in Hampstead, a cosy pub tucked away up the hill and slightly off the beaten track. Luckily, a booth comes free, right by the window, as we walk into the room off the entrance.

‘What are you having?’ he asks as I slide onto the bench seat.

‘Cider, maybe?’

He nods and heads off to the bar in the next room along. I look around, taking in the dark-wooden interior. There’s a fireplace against the opposite wall, but it’s not lit. It is July, after all. There aren’t many people in here, but then again, I realise, as I check my phone, it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.