“It wasn’t much of an interview,” I confess. “He asked me to make him coffee. I called him ‘sir’ a lot, and he offered me the job.”
Blake raises his eyebrows. "We'll talk aboutthatlater.”
“What?” Lexi stares between us. “What will you talk about later?’
Blake chuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I want to know.” Lexi folds her arms.
“About Archie calling his new boss ‘sir’.”
I stare at Blake with wide eyes, silently willing him to shut the fuck up.
“I think Uncle Archie was very polite,” Lexi declares.
“Yes,” Blake agrees around a laugh. “He wasverypolite.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I growl under my breath.
“Oh, sure. Hey, we should celebrate. Do you want to get takeaway?”
I narrow my eyes. “Isn’t it your turn to cook?”
“Yes, which is why I’m offering to pay.” He stands and grabs some takeaway menus from one of the kitchen drawers. “You can choose where we order from. Corey should be home soon.”
“Daddy’s always working late.” Lexi sighs dramatically and pouts. It’s ridiculously cute.
“That’s because he works hard,” I say. “Unlike Uncle Blake.” Hopefully, he knows I’m only teasing him.
“Hey, I work hard,” he says in a fake-wounded tone. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a gig tomorrow.”
Blake is a model, so his schedule is all over the place. Sometimes he has lots of work; other times he only has one or two jobs a month. It means he can’t always pay a consistent amount into our shared kitty which covers rent, bills, and food. Instead, he puts more in when he can and less when he can’t. It works out in the end. This month has been a good one for him, which is why he has enough spare cash to splash around on takeaway food despite our fridge-freezer being full of food that needs eating.
“That’s great,” I say. “What will you be modelling?”
Blake opens his mouth and then snaps it shut. “Clothes.” His voice is tight. He glances at Lexi and then at me, widening his eyes slightly.
I know that look. It’s his ‘I’ll tell you later’ look, which means he’ll be wearing something a five-year-old shouldn’t know about.
“Can we have Chinese?” Lexi asks, batting her eyelashes.
“You only eat the rice,” I point out.
“And the prawn crackers. And the fortune cookies. Can we get fortune cookies?Please?”
I sigh and toss all the menus onto the countertop except the one for our local Chinese. We all have our favourite dishes, so it's an easy enough order to place.
“I’m going to get changed,” I say once that job is done. “I’m pretty gross after travelling on the tube.” And sweating due to nerves and having inappropriate thoughts about my future boss.
I leave Blake and Lexi to their tea party and head upstairs to the second floor. I have the bigger of the two bedrooms there. Blake has the other, and Corey and Lexi have the two bedrooms on the first floor. Lexi’s room is pretty small, but she fits into it far better than any of the rest of us would. Corey has the biggest room, simply because we all agreed he should have the room next to hers when we first moved in. Lexi had been about eight months old at the time, so she still woke during the night.
I peel off my shirt, tie, and trousers and wrap a towel around my waist before heading back down to our shared bathroom. Thankfully, the toilet is separate, or mornings in our house would be hell. Well, not for Blake; he sleeps late as often as he can. The rest of us have to be up and out the door by seven thirty. Corey drops Lexi off at breakfast club on the way to the school he teaches at. Luckily, they’re not far apart. I had been going into central London every day for the past year, but now I’ll be heading into London and then back out again to get to Sevenoaks, where Hamish lives. Normally, the thought of a longer commute wouldn’t fill me with glee, but working for my idol every day will make the journey worth it.
I take a shower, get changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and go back downstairs. Corey is home. He has big bags under his eyes. He's obviously shooed Blake and Lexi away from the table because their tea party has relocated to the lounge floor. Corey is surrounded by a pile of A3 paper, with oil pastel drawings of fruit bowls on them. The one he's filling in a mark sheet for is pretty good.
“Food’s on the way,” I tell him.
“I know. I’ll move when it gets here. I’ve got to get all this marked by tomorrow.”
