Page 2 of His Until Christmas

I tidy him up as the cab pulls off with us inside it. I also make another mental note for my replacement. They’ll need to keep a comb and extra-firm hair gel on hand as well as the number for an on-call barber. “Look at the state of your hair. It’s like you’vebeen dragged through a hedge backwards. Honestly, why are you a nightmare? Why?”

Rex unbuttons his coat and makes himself comfortable in the seat opposite, completely unflustered. “Huffy, huffy, huffy, Jack.” He also digs in a pocket, dog treats scattering as he drags out a Santa hat that must have a bell hidden by its red and white fur. It tinkles as Rex is a nightmare for the third time in as many minutes, this time by turning down my resignation.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this. I can’t accept it.” He slides out his phone and opens his email to show the notice I sent him. “My answer is no.”

“Your answer? You do know that you don’t get to decide whether I stay or go, don’t you? I’ve already had offers from other partners at the bank.” I should be particularly proud of what I next share with him. Instead, I squeak, “And an interview soon for a spot at the New York office.”

Rex squints. “New York can be a dangerous place. There’s no need for you to relocate or move on to one of the other partners here in London. I know my work focus has shifted lately, but I’ll still have plenty of admin to keep you busy. How about you stay working for me, and I’ll try to be less boring?”

“How about no?”

Truthfully, Rex is far from boring. Working for him has stretched me, and, nightmare boss to keep track of or not, my heart sinks at the thought of not solving his future admin problems. Maybe that’s why this sounds grittier than usual. “I’m not the same PA you hired, Rex.” I bet we both remember the interview I stumbled through after my first job ended in disaster. “I’m not scared of my own shadow these days.” This slips out next. “And working for you has never been dull.”

“So why leave me at all?” Rex isn’t only a banker. He is also an earl who will inherit an island dukedom one day, complete with castle. That must be how he can arch an aristocraticeyebrow at the same time as asking, “And why is New York even on your short list? I thought you always said London was life.”

I did. In fact, I said exactly that first thing this morning, only not to Rex.

I actually typedlifeafter finding the wordLondonwaiting on my phone when I woke up.

Don’t ask me why I still play a silly game of word association that used to involve three people but now only has two players. My response still holds true—London reallyislife, especially with Christmas just around the corner.

The crowds of shoppers our cab passes are proof. They’re all here to hunt for perfect presents. Or maybe they’re here to skate at one of the ice rinks that pop up each winter to do brisk, ankle-breaking business. Whatever the reason, these visitors really have come at the best time of year to see the city glitter, like Gran promised.

That’s what the streetlights do against a late afternoon grey sky when the cab reaches Regent Street. They sparkle, and Rex must notice me tilting my phone to sneak a quick photo to send her. He opens the window, not caring that sleet spatters him as I frame a shot I know will make her day.

Rex’s cut-glass tone softens with a hint of Cornish. “Okay, okay. I know I can’t actually stop you from leaving me, but look at you still taking photos like a tourist. Forget New York. Why not stay under London’s spell for longer and see what next year will bring?”

I shake my head.

I already know the problem the next year has in store for me, which is why I’m leaving Rex’s employment.

Besides, I also know that most of this city’s magic is superficial—these glittering lights are temporary, as are those holiday-season ice rinks which are too cramped to really skate in. My housemate Patrick’s middle brother told me so, andCalum straps on skates for his living, so he’d know. But the past version of me who grew up on a diet of Gran’s stories always wanted to spin in a costume as sparkly as this city was the night she found a hero to fall in love with.

Maybe Rex picks up on that. “Hold on. Is this sudden urge to move on because you’ve banged half of London but still haven’t found your Prince Charming?”

“I havenotbanged half of London.” I kissed a whole lot of frogs instead, although I’m not about to admit to never dipping a repeat toe into anyone’s pond water—to dating once, then hopping to the next lily pad all on my own. Rex is such a knight in shining armour, he’d dedicate his life to securing a happily ever after for me, only I don’t need saving from my single status. “Some of us are career-focussed, Rex. Kissing even more frogs across an even bigger pond isn’t my driver for considering New York over London.”

The only man I ever wanted to kiss twice doesn’t work in either city.

Rex tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Now that I think about it, you haven’t mentioned being wined and dined in ages. What’s up with that?”

“What’s up with you minding your own beeswax?” I sniff. “Maybe I’m leaving because of your very unprofessional interest in my love life.”

Rex tilts his head the other way as the cab swings by Piccadilly Circus, and that bell on his hat tinkles, seeming to laugh at me. So does his next teasing question. “Who mentioned love, Jack? All I’m saying is that you might be more relaxed if you had a lunch-break assignation or two.” Now those aristocratic eyebrows waggle. “Let me find someone who shares your stationery obsession.” He straightens up, suddenly a man on a mission. “Yes, leave it to me. Forget New York or moving onto a new job here. Stay on my payroll, and I’ll find someone with a lovely big hole punch for you.”

“I’m not obsessed with stationery.”

That’s a lie.

This isn’t.

“And I’m not obsessed with the size of anyone’s hole punch, thank you.” I fix him with a prim look and channel my other housemate, who loves to rage against unfairness. “That’s actually very sizeist. And as for you hooking me up, you do knowthisis why I keep HR on speed dial, don’t you?”

This back-and-forth banter will either surprise whoever takes over from me or have Rex up before an employment tribunal, but I’m used to his recently increased interest in my love life. It’s one that comes from a good place.A kind one. Since Rex got married, he’s all about happy endings.

As for me, my first boss in this city taught me how quickly unwanted interest can make a workplace hostile, but here’s the true beauty of London—she’s big enough that I haven’t crossed paths with Lito Dixon even once since I quit working for him. My second boss is entirely different, always willing to go into battle for me, like now.

“Wait a bloody minute.” Rex squints across the space between us. “That’s yourI’m thinking about a syphilitic dickface. Is that the real reason why you’re leaving me? Because that slimy photographer you used to work for is sniffing around again?”

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