Page 24 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

George

I pick up the phone to talk to Anya and thank her for the watch.

She answers on the second ring with a ‘You’re welcome.’

Not, ‘Hey, hon’ or ‘Congratulations’, but instead, ‘You’re welcome’ like she hasn’t quite got the time to have a full conversation. I glance at my old watch and realise she’s probably about to go into a meeting.

‘Maybe it’ll be me who is saying “You’re welcome” back to you tonight,’ I tease. ‘How would you like to come over to find me wearing nothing but your gift?’

There is a startled silence from her end, reminding me we have that rule about no flirting at work. But still. It’s a special occasion, right? I hold my breath, forcing her to answer, which isn’t our dynamic but sometimes it’s good to try new things.

‘That sounds like an offer too good to refuse,’ Anya replies and I can hear the smile in her voice.

My heart jumps with surprised pleasure. Maybe I should think outside our dynamic a little more often. Maybe?—

‘Wait. Tonight?’ Anya interrupts my foray into fantasy land. ‘I’m sorry, George. I have the Prender launch.’

Shit.

‘Why don’t you message the gang for drinks?’ she suggests.

The ‘gang’ are the handful of friends we see when we have time. Actually, they’re more her friends. And when I say friends – they’re mostly colleagues. I guess I could go out for a few drinks with them tonight. The fact it will end up being all about work shouldn’t be a turn-off when we’d essentially be celebrating my promotion, and I guess they’re never going to become my friends if I don’t put the effort in.

Out of nowhere, I think of nights out down The Bedraggled Badger pub back in England with my brother and all our mates and my chest gets really tight again.

I try to force a smile into my voice. ‘You’re seriously turning down Naked George of the Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made for a couple of hours standing around awkwardly high tables eating cardboard canapes?’

‘I’m really sorry, George.’

‘Stop by after. Stay over tonight.’ Seize the night.

‘Can we make it tomorrow night, instead?’

‘Sure.’ I try not to let the disappointment show in my voice, being that I am not a petulant child and relationships are all about compromise and, okay, because I am certainly not going to beg, either.

As if she can sense me trying hard, she says, ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘Yeah?’ This perks me right up. I wait for further flirting.

Silence.

Apparently, that was it.

‘Hey, thanks for finishing the crossword off for me the other week,’ I say in a bid to spin the short conversation out as much as I can.

‘Huh?’

‘Gelatinous. Remember? It was doing my head in to have that one clue remaining.’

‘George, you know crosswords aren’t my thing.’

‘Sure, but did you not leave a crossword under my amazing new watch?’

‘Well, I know they’re your thing.’

I can hear the indulgent tone in her voice but I’m confused. Does this mean, then, that my new cleaner took it upon themselves to finish my crossword?

Doesn’t seem quite right.

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