few weeks. Alex and I spend most of our time at his, weeknights and weekends – it’s almost as if we’re living together. We cook, binge-watch old movies, listen to music – we both love the same nineties bands, especially Oasis – and we regularly step into that big, beautiful shower together.
We still haven’t spent the evening at mine. In fact Alex hasn’t even set foot in my flat, and I know I need to invite him over soon. I just worry he’ll see my shabby old flat and be totally put off. And, besides, I love being at his, it’s a whole house rather than a flat, it’s more comfortable. And he spoils me in a way no one has ever spoiled me in my life. This morning, despite having had a large bowl of his wonderful home-made porridge, at 11.30 Alex dropped off a bag of warm croissants at reception. I was out on a visit and actually rather glad I wasn’t there when he dropped by. I’d have felt obliged to invite him into the office, which would have been awkward as everyone’s always busy, and you never know what they’re dealing with. Anyway, the croissants were waiting at reception when I got back, which filled me with a lovely inner glow that rivalled the warm porridge.
‘He seemed so disappointed that you weren’t here,’ Margaret said. ‘I think he was hoping to catch a glimpse of you.’ She winked.
I walked into the office, holding the bakery bag aloft and announcing that Alex was a sweetie, just as I spotted two large pains au chocolat from the café on my desk.
‘I didn’t realise you had a new supplier,’ Harry joked.
‘Yeah, but you’ll always be my main man,’ I replied.
This morning before work, I’d popped into the Sainsbury’s Local and finally remembered to buy a second box of Father Christmas-shaped Smarties for Harry as a thank-you for the pastries. I’d put them on his desk and said, ‘A fair exchange for all the croissants?’
‘Ahh cheers, Hannah, you didn’t have to do that,’ he’d replied.
I think he was genuinely pleased, and I was glad I’d kept this new tub away from Alex.
‘I’m not sure I can eat dinner tonight after those lovely croissants you sent today,’ I tell Alex this evening, when I arrive at his place. He’s made a casserole, and insists I have some, but I ask for the tiniest portion.
‘So, you enjoyed the croissants?’ he asks a little later as we finish eating.
‘Yes, they were delicious. So delicious I had to go to the gym at lunchtime,’ I say.
‘You went to the gym?’ he sounds horrified.
‘Yeah, it’s near work. It’s nice to get out of the office sometimes and jump on the treadmill. It was busy, though – I reckon everyone’s firming up for their Christmas party dresses.’
‘You don’t need a gym. You can work out with me in the garage,’ he says. ‘I’ve got everything in there – state-of-the-art treadmill and—’
‘Your garage? Isn’t it bloody freezing in there this time of year?’
‘It’s fine, a bit of cold air won’t kill you. We can work out together, it’ll be fun. Much nicer than a gym full of sweaty people. Besides, it’s romantic to work out together.’
I try to resist, but Alex won’t take no for an answer and insists we do a mini workout now, so I can ‘test-drive’ his gym. I have my gear with me, so get changed and reluctantly follow him through the kitchen to the inside door to the garage. He’s taking ages to unlock it, and I’ve never noticed until now, but there’s a padlock above the keyhole too.
‘Why do you have so many locks? The garage door will keep anyone out, it’s electric,’ I say, puzzled.
‘Oh, you know me, I like to be safe, and now you’re here a lot – I want you to be safe.’
‘I can look after myself. I’m a big strong girl, Alex,’ I joke, lifting my arm and flexing my biceps.
‘Yes, but after your weirdo ex sent those flowers with the vicious note, I reckon we need double locks on everything.’
I don’t like to think about it, it’s too disturbing, and as nothing more has happened since I warned Tom off, I reckon it’s over now.
‘Don’t worry about him. He’s moved on,’ I say, not wanting to get into a conversation about it.
‘How do you know?’
‘I spoke to him,’ I say, knowing this isn’t going to go down well.