Humbug by Joanna Chambers Page B

totally love you.”
    Our eyes met then, and, despite my anger, I felt a sudden surge of affection. “Love you too, Fred,” I said lightly.
    She wiped her eyes, smearing her black tears away and gave me a speculative look. “Well, that’s not something I hear often—would this be a good time to ask a favour?”
    “Okay,” I said. “How much do you need?”
    “I wasn’t going to ask for money!” To my surprise, she looked insulted.
    “What then?” I asked.
    “I want you to come out with me tonight. The whole gang’s going to be there.”
    I sighed heavily. “I’ve already said I’ll come if I can. You’re going to be in Space, aren’t you?”
    “I don’t mean you turning up for the last hour at the club when almost everyone’s gone home. Come for the whole thing—we’re meeting in The Dragon at six, then going to that new gourmet burger place for dinner. Then we’ll pub crawl our way up to Space. It’ll be awesome. Come on, Quin. It’ll be just like old times. Ben’s coming too.”
    “Oh well, if my ex is going to be there, then I’ll be sure to make it.” I rolled my eyes to emphasise the absurdity of this.
    I expected her to get pissed off at that, but instead of looking angry, she looked suddenly sad. “You told me that you and Ben would always be friends. You said that you two breaking up wouldn’t change our group. But it has. You’ve only been in the same room twice since the breakup.” She paused. “It’s been almost two years now.”
    I looked away. I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
    When the silence stretched, I sighed. “Look, I’ll text you when I’m done at work. I promise.”
    Silence greeted that grudging concession and when I glanced at Freddy she still looked sad. And now disappointed too.
    “Okay,” she said at last, and I knew she didn’t believe me.
    I couldn’t leave the flat quick enough after that. I left my mug of tea to go cold in the sink and headed out, slipping my headphones over my head on the way out the door. I could walk to the office in about half an hour but the route was uninspiringly urban, so I tended to occupy myself with audiobooks. Today’s was a title about leadership in business: Finding Your Authentic Inner CEO .
    The headphones doubled as ear defenders, keeping out both the chilly December air and the annoying strains of Christmas music leaking out of shops and cafes. I couldn’t wait for the end of the festive season.
    Roll on January and sanity.
    When I reached Sterling House, the tall gleaming edifice that housed not only Quick & Blacks but two law firms and an accountancy practice, I flashed my identity badge at the entry system on the front door. The red eye-level light flashed green, releasing the locked revolving door for my entry and I pushed my way inside, keeping my headphones on, even though I’d switched off the book.
    The security guard at the desk—the same guy who was there every other day—was wearing a Santa hat. He was friendly, this one. Always tried to talk to me.
    Great.
    Keeping my gaze averted, I began walking quickly towards the lifts. The guard didn’t take the hint though.
    “Morning,” he called cheerily as I hurried past the desk. “Aren’t you going to have one of these?”
    And in that moment, I made a fatal mistake. Instead of pretending to be absorbed by whatever was coming through my headphones and ignoring him, as I usually did, I stopped and yanked my headphones down so that they circled the back of my neck.
    “One of what?”
    He gestured at a plate on the desk. “Mince pie,” he said cheerfully. “’S’Christmas, innit?”
    “Mince pie? Um, no, thanks. I—”
    “Go on,” he interrupted with a roguish wink. “You know you want to!”
    “No, honestly, I’m fine.”
    I began turning away, but he wasn’t having it.
    “Oh, go on,” he wheedled, “it’s Christmas. Treat yourself. My missus made ’em. They’re gorgeous.”
    I could see I would be quicker taking one than arguing