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He smiled. “Do you really have to ask?”
Alex bit her lip.
“I could get used to playing the hero.” He glanced at his phone. “Shit. My boss will have my balls if I’m not back downstairs. So, the private party starts at two. You’ve got two hours.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Come. There’s a brew downstairs with your name on it. My treat.”
• • •
Mark was right; circulating trays of appetizers was a no-brainer. The party of investment bankers from the City was more interested in Naomi and the continuous flow of booze than Alex’s prawn bundles. She took a breather in a nook at the far end of the venue, checking her phone. Both her dad and Joan had left messages. A power cut and depleted phone batteries, the reasons for their disappearances earlier. She sent two texts back, saying she would call after work.
Naomi ducked into the hideaway. Alex looked up from her phone, swearing under her breath. The beauty had been chatty each time they bumped into each other, but the blonde wasn’t buying it. The images of her fondling Mark were still plastered all over her brain. She felt relieved that she had mended fences with Mark earlier, but could do without this afternoon’s reminder of what Naomi had that she didn’t.
“If that slime pinches my arse one more time, I’m going to lamp him.” Naomi pointed to a lanky fifty-something banker with a greasy comb-over.
“That I’d like to see.” Alex frowned.
“Not in the holiday spirit?” asked Naomi.
“You could say that.”
“I’ve been there. Say no more.” Naomi nudged her with a bony elbow. “But this year, I think Father Christmas is finally bringing me Mr. Right. It’s been a bit stop-start, but I think we’re finally on the right track.” Her face shone brighter than her empty silver tray.
Alex dreaded the name that would spring from Naomi’s pillowy lips.
“We went out for drinks after work and ended up at mine. Neither of us got much sleep that night.” A loud laugh escaped from her throat. “Start as you mean to go on, Naomi.”
She knew it, her suspicions now proven right. It was back on—Mark and Naomi’s bonk-a-thon. It wasn’t any of her business, but a part of her wanted more details, even if they hurt. At least she’d have closure. “You’re lucky. Mark’s lovely.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Alex wished she had a recall button. Whatever Naomi spilled next would only make her feel bad. Too late now.
“Mark?” Naomi’s pencil-thin eyebrows pinched. “No, he’s just a friend. Well, that’s not totally true. We had a little fling last year, so we have history, but it’s ancient. I slip into my old flirty ways with him sometimes, but no, he’s not my type.”
The blonde’s mouth gaped open.
“You should go for him.” Naomi’s elbow jabbed her again. “You look cute together.”
Alex did a double take. Naomi nodded. “I’m serious. He talks about you all the time. If you’re interested, you should definitely let him know. Mind you, he works too much. And he’s got that awful scooter…”
“He talks about me?”
“He was raving about your play the other day—something about a bridge? I feel like I know you, he goes on so much…” She scrunched up her perfect nose. “Actually, I might owe you an apology…that day in Kitchen? I’m such a terrible flirt; it’s my default setting. I didn’t realize you guys were having a moment when I interrupted…I’m sorry.”
Alex nodded, speechless.
Naomi leaned in. “I know he’s really into you, but listen. Fate can be a lazy bitch. Don’t wait around for her. Make it happen with Mark. That’s why I’ve devised a battle plan to hook my new fella. Don’t leave anything to chance, sweetie. Ever!”
She winked and strutted off towards the chef to refill her tray.
Alex briefly closed her eyes, a slow grin winding through her freckles. All the resentment and jealousy she had been feeling towards Naomi slowly fell away with each elated breath.
• • •
In the three days running up to Christmas Eve, the National hummed with back-to-back holiday parties. Alex worked every catering shift available on top of her regular job. Throbbing feet, skipped meals, and zero face time with friends plagued the hectic week, but each pound earned brought her closer to a new year’s purchase of a good secondhand laptop.
Before staff scattered at noon on December 24, Alex met Mark for a quick goodbye in Kitchen. His flight to Dublin was leaving from Gatwick in three hours, and he was headed to the airport straight from work.
He handed over a burgundy laptop bag that had seen better days. “I wish I could give you a proper Christmas present, but this will have to do. I’m in no rush to get it back. Keep it for as long as you need.”
Alex hugged the bag against her geometric-print blue and black sweater dress. “This is the best present anyone could give me. Thank you.”
He grinned mischievously. “Okay, I lied. I do have something for you.”
