scientist for a cancer lab,” he said. “Really interesting stuff. I brought her a sandwich at her flat while she was collating some data, and asked a few questions, and she kicked me out for being ‘too distracting.’” He made the air quotes with a frown. “I thought it was a sexy compliment, but then she ended it because she didn’t think our lifestyles would mesh. She didn’t even give my lifestyle a chance.”
“You at least should’ve gotten points for the sandwich.”
Freddie’s gesture said, I know, right?
“Chin up,” I said. “It’s a cliché, but the right person will turn up eventually. You’ll find your place.”
We paused next to each other in the doorway that led into the living room. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth. Gaz was using a level to check the tiers of the cake for evenness and taking notes in a Moleskine notebook. Across the room, the four ladies were huddled around Lacey’s phone.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Cilla asked. “Well done.”
“I heard that,” Gaz bellowed from across the room.
“He’s objectively handsome,” Cilla called back at him. Gaz huffed in the general direction of the cake.
“Watch out, you’ll blow it over,” Freddie called out.
“I’m not the Big Bad Wolf,” Gaz said.
“It looks precarious,” Freddie insisted. “You need to work on your structural integrity.”
Gaz told Freddie in very strong terms what he could do with his structural integrity, and Freddie turned to me and yanked on my ponytail. “Still glad this is your place, considering this unseemly lot?”
“Damn right,” I said. We exchanged uncomplicated smiles, and impulsively I wrapped my arm around his chest and hugged him. “It feels like home when you’re all here.”
Freddie rested his chin on the top of my head. “It does, rather, doesn’t it?”
“Indeed,” said a voice, and we swiveled around to see Nick, a red mark on half of his face and his hair sticking up on that side.
“Welcome, Sleeping Beauty,” Freddie observed, his arm around my shoulder.
“I hope I’m not crashing the party,” Nick said. The way he was appraising us made me uneasy.
“Don’t be silly,” I said, breaking away as casually as I could. “You passed out so hard that we decided to let you get in a catnap.” I took his hand. “Do you guys want a cocktail? Lacey made some G&Ts.”
Freddie grinned at me. “Just the ticket,” he said, sauntering over to the bar cart. I turned to Nick and put my arm around his waist.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in the daylight in about a week,” I said.
“Yes, well, ‘work-life balance’ hasn’t been on my to-do list,” he said, stretching and yawning hard enough that my arm fell back to my body.
“Oi, Nick,” Gaz’s voice said from behind a tower of dessert. “I saw on Twitter that you lost to an old lady today.”
“Ah, yes, the infamous Lillian Chang of Shoreditch,” Nick said, walking into the room and settling into a large armchair by the fireplace. “I got thrashed in a footrace by an eighty-one-year-old. It was fun, though. So much better than having to plant another tree.”
“The worst,” Freddie said. “I planted three trees last month.”
“I planted seven,” Nick said.
Cilla got up and poured herself another drink. “They’ve really put you to work lately.”
“And rightly,” Bea said, gesturing around the room. “One has to earn the spoils.”
“Okay, you’ve got me beat on trees,” Freddie said. He set his drink on the end table and steepled his hands in concentration. “How many tiny sets of curtains did you open? I did two.”
Nick made a thoughtful face. “Four,” he said. “But the last one had medium-size curtains so it should count for two.”
“I never get to open any,” I said.
“You’re not really in the mix the way Nick and I are,” Freddie said.
“There’s a mix?” Lacey asked.
Bea looked at her as if she’d asked whether teabags were edible. Lacey made an exaggerated okay, then face and went back to cutting the rind off her Brie.
“I also cut three cakes,” Nick said.
Freddie winced. “All I had was the one from the one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary of the Gloucestershire County Cricket Club. Point to you.”
“Again,” Nick said.
“Guest books signed?” Freddie asked.
“Enough. We get it,” I said.
“Are we counting books of condolence?” Nick asked.
“No,” Freddie said. “Unless you need to, of course.”
“I don’t,” Nick said. “I was just clarifying terms.”
“You lot are mad,” Gemma chuckled.
Cilla and Gaz exchanged a look, and then he popped up and rubbed his hands together. “I think I smell those Cornish pasties