Page 105 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

The apartment door hadn’t even closed before it had started.

Who was Ashleigh?

Was she my new girlfriend?

She was pretty.

And funny and creative.

Was I bringing her to the wedding?

So many questions and opinions. I’d had the hardest time getting us all back on safer ground.

Then, when Ashleigh had turned up the following day to clean, I’d got the, “I’m in such a rush today – extra shifts. You carry on with what you’re doing and I’ll whizz round,” speech. Without waiting for me to respond she’d flashed me an overbright smile and put on her earphones. I’d spent the entire time wondering if there was actually any music playing through them.

If I could get up from the table now and go into the kitchen to find her and apologise, I would. Because what the hell had I been thinking? I’m just out of a relationship. Am I really so anxious to prove to myself I can have something deeper with someone?

And more than all this, Ashleigh isn’t just “someone”.

She’s a friend.

I don’t want to hurt her.

Conversation around the dinner table blends into the background as I feel the wave of anticipation build again, waiting for Ashleigh to come back out of the kitchen dressed in her sexy white shirt and black skirt, carrying dinner plates.

Not sexy, I tell myself.

In the same way her fluorescent white uniform isn’t sexy.

What is it with me and Ashleigh in uniforms?

I think about her dressed in jeans and a top.

Yeah … no … still sexy.

Hot.

Hot friend.

We all have one, right? I should consign it to that.

Anya had a “capsule wardrobe” and every piece in it was smart, stylish, elegant, and buttoned up. A uniform of a different kind.

Ashleigh turns practical and efficient casual dress into something soft and lived in.

Approachable.

The very opposite of stand-offish.

‘So, George,’ the dinner guest beside me says loud enough to finally get my attention. ‘I didn’t catch how you’re affiliated to the hospital?’

‘The hospital?’ I hadn’t thought there was a subject guaranteed to take my mind off Ashleigh, but I was wrong. I look across the table to our host, Mrs. Lundy, really hoping it’s a coincidence and that Ashleigh hasn’t told her I have a health issue so she’s stuck me next to a doctor or something.

Had.

Had a health issue.

Strange that I’ve not had one panic attack since I left the Harrison Richards Agency.

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