Page 54 of The Work Husband

‘If last night was your A game, I’d hate to see you on a bad day.’ I glared at him.

‘Hey, maybe the execution was a bit lacking, but the strategy was great. Sam didn’t like it, did he?’

‘No, he didn’t. And nor did I. We were going to have a proper talk last night and, thanks to you, we couldn’t. And I don’t know when we will because…’

I faltered, remembering Sam’s closed, angry face and monosyllabic responses when I’d tried to speak to him about even inconsequential things that morning.

Jamie brightened. ‘He’s pissed off with you, is he? That means it worked. He’s jealous.’

‘Jealous? Jamie, if you could have seen the state you were in last night – let me put it this way, the rough sleeper who picked up your bottle of fizz wouldn’t have been jealous of you last night.’

I took a deep breath. My worry about Sam and concern about the role I might have inadvertently played in the trouble Zahra was in had crystallised into annoyance with Jamie – anger, even. Who did he think he was, messing around with my life like I was some kind of puppet whose strings he could pull at will?

‘You acted like a total dickhead,’ I said. ‘Frankly, you embarrassed yourself. And you embarrassed me. Think about it for one second. If I was properly down with your stupid idea of winding Sam up by making him jealous of me and you – and I’m not sure I ever was – how do you think last night would have worked out for me?’

Jamie opened his mouth to say something, but I was in full flood, so he ate another chicken nugget instead.

‘What would Sam have thought?’ I was properly getting into my stride now. ‘I can imagine – can you? If my girlfriend’s stupid enough to fall for this drunken idiot who can’t even stay on his feet long enough to bring her flowers, he’s welcome to her. That’s what he would’ve thought.’

‘He said that to you?’ Jamie looked agog.

‘No, he did not. But that’s because, thanks to you’ – to be fair, it was thanks to me as well, but I wasn’t in the mood to admit that – ‘he’s not talking to me.’

Jamie’s face fell. ‘Look, babe, I’m sorry. I really am. Last night was… like I say, it wasn’t my finest hour. But my intentions were good. My heart is pure. I was only trying to help.’

‘If that’s your idea of helping me, maybe you should try and completely fuck my life up next time, and you might do better.’

I managed to keep up my scolding tone, but the truth was, I was beginning to feel sorry for Jamie. He looked so hangdog and miserable sitting there, a smear of ketchup on his chin. Like a child who was being told off for something that wasn’t his fault or a puppy who’s just chewed your new Jimmy Choos.

‘I really didn’t want to fuck your life up,’ he said. ‘I’ll apologise to Sam. I’ll buy him flowers. Well, maybe not flowers⁠—’

‘Definitely not flowers. And I think it’s best you don’t contact him until I’ve had a chance to speak to him – or at all.’

‘Okay, Georgia. Whatever you say.’

‘And about this whole Sam thing. I know you’ve been trying – in fact, you’ve been extremely trying – to help. But let’s face it, it hasn’t worked, and it’s not going to. It needs to stop, Jamie. Today. Now. I’m done with it. Okay?’ I gave him a final blast of the evil stare, since it seemed to be working so well. ‘And you might want to wipe that ketchup off your beard.’

His hand flew to the pile of napkins on the desk in front him, and he grabbed one, scrubbing at his face furiously. And just in time because as soon as he’d managed to clean himself up, the door of Jasper’s office opened and our boss stalked out.

The look on his face made me realise that I was a mere amateur in the hard stare department.

‘You.’ He stabbed a finger towards Jamie, and my stomach cartwheeled. ‘In here. Now.’

Relief that it wasn’t me being summoned mingled with fresh sympathy for Jamie.

However bad his day had been thus far, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I sat at my desk for almost an hour, resisting the urge to bite my nails, occasionally looking back at the now empty place in my phone’s photo album where the pictures of Zahra had been.

How had that leak happened? Directly before them was a picture of Arthur snuggled in Molly’s arms, which brought a stab of guilt as I remembered it had been a while since I’d heard from her. I wondered if Arthur’s tummy was still bothering him and he was still keeping Molly and Ben up all night.

Directly after was a selfie I’d taken of me and Jamie in Birch Bar, right before he’d insisted I put my phone back in my bag and leave Sam’s messages unread. I was smiling at the screen, Jamie’s face so close to mine our cheeks were touching. I’d thought that if Sam saw it, it would fan the flames of jealousy I’d hoped to make him feel.

I remembered how I’d gone along with the idea with a kind of mischievousness, a sense that this was a bit of fun, a way to shake things up and bring Sam back to my side.

It hadn’t worked. Even before last night, I’d felt increasingly that Jamie’s plan was in danger of spiralling out of control, and that if I didn’t call a definite halt to it, I’d be sucked into a place where I really didn’t want to be.