Amy and Hugh were attracted to one another. They were compatible, and together they enjoyed a highly Instagrammable relationship that didn’t involve any drama. If Amy was honest, one of Hugh’s key advantages was that– like every other boyfriend she’d ever had– he seemed slightly more attached to her than she was to him. It was probably dysfunctional, but she might as well face it: she’d always avoided being the more emotionally vulnerable partner. Hugh’s insistence on knowing Amy was safe was irritating, but not a deal-breaker– rather an outward sign of a dynamic she was very used to.
‘Don’t be daft, Kit,’ Amy said briskly. ‘Hugh isn’t going to dump me because I’m back a bit later than planned.’
This was true, but her dismissiveness was also deliberately misleading. Amy knew she’d probably get the silent treatment for a while if she stressed Hugh out by going dark on him this evening, and she suspected she was no more than half an hour away from receiving an anxious WhatsApp with a terse request for her ETA. She found herself pricing in his inevitable annoyance: it was the cost of staying out a bit longer, and worth paying to spend extra time with Kit.
‘Hugh has some big mystery day out planned,’ she said, in an attempt to take the conversation elsewhere. ‘He’s point-blank refused to give me any details about it but I’m sure it’s going to be exciting.’
Amy did her best tosoundexcited, but in all honesty she was nervous. She hated surprises and (although she’d asked alotof leading questions) had totally failed to get a read on what was in store.
Kit sniffed out her apprehension immediately. ‘Sounds like your worst nightmare,’ he stated baldly.
Not for the first time, Amy found herself wishing that her boyfriend of six months knew her as well as her friend did.
When she neither confirmed nor denied his accusation, Kit changed tack. ‘How’s it going with him, anyway?’ he asked. ‘Now you’re living together, I mean.’
‘We’re notliving together,’ Amy said. ‘Not really. You know that.’
‘Ames,’ Kit protested, draining his martini. ‘Do you or do you not currently reside in Hugh Howard’s South Bank flat?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘And have you, or have you not, had your post redirected to his address?’ Kit pressed on.
‘Yes, but that’s for security reasons,’ Amy cried. ‘Bank statements and—’
Kit held up his palms, signalling for her to stop. ‘The prosecution rests.’
‘I do notlivewith Hugh,’ Amy said, exasperated. ‘It’s way too soon for that. I’m just staying with him for a while. It isn’tmyfault my landlord decided to sell up, then asked me to leave within four weeks. It was good of Hugh to suggest I crash with him– especially when you consider the size of my shoe collection.’
Come on,she thought.Laugh at my crap joke so we can lighten the mood and move on.
‘Mmm,’ Kit murmured, annoyingly non-committal. ‘So you’re looking for a place of your own, still? How’s that going?’
His Yorkshire accent had bounced back to full strength after a few drinks, Amy noticed. She liked it: broad, warm and unapologetically Sheffield, without the edges shorn off by the need to sound ‘more professional’ in an office soundtracked by Received Pronunciation.
Like Kit’s, Amy’s was one of only a handful of ‘regional voices’ at Howard-Knight. A shared determination never to pronounce Bath with an ‘r’ in the middle had bonded them on a work trip to the city during Amy’s first week at the firm.
‘It’s going verrry slowly,’ Amy admitted, grateful for the change of subject. ‘We’ve seen a few places, but none of them have been right so far.’
Kit’s black eyebrows pulled together. ‘Why is Hugh involved in helping you flat-hunt? Does he get a say in where you live now– or, perhaps more accurately, where youdon’t?’
Amy squirmed, realising she’d somehow managed to make things worse. ‘He’s just trying to be helpful! He wants me to find somewhere nice– somewhere decent– not rush to spaff half my earnings on the nearest available hellhole.’
Kit snorted. ‘Something tells me you could find an apartment in Kensington Palace for fifty quid a week and he’d still say it wasn’t good enough for you.’
Although trying to avoid his gaze, Amy accidentally caught his eye in one of the many mirrored tiles that surrounded them. His face was soft with concern, despite his derisive tone.
‘Seriously … Be careful, Amy. Please. I know I take the piss, but you need to make sure his overprotective behaviour doesn’t become something more … sinister.’
‘Sinister?!’ Amy forced a laugh. ‘I think you’ve overdosed on erotic fiction– or maybe been on too many dodgy Tinder dates. I’ve seen every corner of Hugh’s flat, and I can tell you with complete confidence that there’s no red room of pain.’
Kit wrinkled his nose and shuddered theatrically. ‘I wasn’t implying he’s some sort of closet Christian Grey.’
‘Hedefinitelyisn’t,’ Amy said, slurping what little was left of her cocktail.
‘Oh dear,’ Kit said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. ‘Is he boring in bed? That’s a blow. I mean, Hugh’s not really my cup of tea, but shagging the CEO’s posh nephew should at least bekindof hot …?’
Amy felt herself flush. ‘He’s perfectly fine in bed!’ she cried, desperate to shut Kit up. ‘Hugh and I have a very straightforward, fuss-free relationship. It’s exactly what I need, and we both know where we stand.’