“Mmm-hmm.” I nod, smoothing down my shirt and unable to look him in the eye.
“I’m going to be away for a few days,” he adds over his shoulder.
I stare intently at the piles of nearly finished boxes scattered on the floor, resisting a glance up at him. “Cool, good.”
No, not good. Why did I say that?
“Yes,grud,” he says in a slight trance as he swings open the door, the fluorescent light streaming in fromthe outer office. The warmth his gentle tease gives me is immediately dampened by the realization that he thinks I am happy he’ll be gone for a few days.
By the time I get home, it’s nearly 10 p.m. In between having a quick five-minute “power cry” in the toilets after Susie’s flippant dismissal of my Ever After idea, marketing team meetings and running around the city to find a pop-up Lebanese restaurant for Susie’s lunch, my own work didn’t start until 5 p.m. Then, of course, I had to fill the boxes. Thankfully, Alice had a glass of our favorite rosé, the one we refer to as “the chicken wine” because of the drawing on the label and our lack of French pronunciation skills, waiting for me as I walked through the door.
We lounge on the sofa, bitching about our bosses for an hour before I’m tipsy enough to admit I had joined Ignite this morning but am too chicken to start swiping.
“You’ve got to be kidding. You swore on your pink suit trousers that you wouldneverjoin a dating app like Ignite, no matter how dire things got.”
I put my hand over my face, hiding my blushing cheeks.
“I knooowwww,” I drag out, “but I have to find arealdate or I’m going to be so underprepared for my presentation. It’s in three weeks—I need to do fieldwork!” I laugh, realizing how ridiculous it sounds. “But I can’t bring myself to look at the profiles yet.”
Alice gives me a scrupulous look, holding out her palm. “Hand it over.”
I roll my eyes like an inconvenienced teenager and slap my phone into her enthusiastic little hands. I wonder if Bancroft is this reluctant to create a profile on Fate. At least I can hold this over him if he doesn’t hold up his end of our bargain. My mind slips back to that look on his face. The same look he had at the Christmas party.
“Hmmmm, let’s see,” Alice narrates to herself with a singsong voice, pursing her lips as if she’s perusing a restaurant menu. “What about this guy? He’s cute.”
She holds the phone to me like a waiter displaying a bottle of wine, flicking through the photos with a manicured finger.
I wiggle my hand around like a fish out of water. “Would be OK if his first photo wasn’t him with a giant bottle of Grey Goose.”
With a shrug she flicks to the next profile. “Wait.” Alice scrunches her face at the screen. “Is this your ex-boyfriend?”
She rotates the phone and the world turns in slow motion as my eyes land on the very familiar face. The face whose text messages I can’t escape.
The words ring in my mind as a heavy, sticky rage clings to my chest. I flick through the profile; most of the images I’ve seen before on his Instagram. Him at a football game with his mates, at a fancy restaurant, topless on a recent holiday, but one makes me stop in my tracks.
“That’s my dog,” I say to the picture.
“What? You don’t have a dog,” Alice says.
I look up from the screen. “No, sorry. I mean that’s my family’s dog.”
“Awww, cute. What’s his name?”
“His name was Archie, but he died years ago. Why would William be using a photo of him and my dog?”
I remember it so clearly. I took the photo of him and my family’s honey-gold cocker spaniel on a beach holiday when we were celebrating our one-year anniversary. It was freezing cold but we wanted to watch the sunset over the sea. The taste of salty air and Bailey’s hot chocolate dances across my tongue for the briefest moment.
“It’s such a weird picture to dig up and use after getting out of a long-term relationship.” I take a screenshot of it before Alice pulls the phone away from me.
“This is an ex-boyfriend-free zone,” she says sternly, replacing the phone with my glass of chicken wine.
I fake a laugh, my suspicion lingering like a bad smell. Hoping to drown out the intrusive thoughts.
“OK, NEXT!” Alice bellows toward the ceiling. “What about this guy:Active, determined, adventurous, excitable, usually hungry.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s literally just a list of adjectives.”
Alice lets out a breath and rolls her eyes, shouting at his photo, “You’re right, and we’re not here to read!” and swiping left on the profile. “Oooooh, OK, this one is interesting:Jack. Twenty-seven. Aficionado of comfortable bar seats, love hearing what other people are obsessed with and spending more time in pajamas thana suit.” She looks up at me with hopeful eyes. “That’s kind of you, babe. And look, he has a cute dog! Who is probably alive!”
