‘Jesse.’ I reluctantly turned away from the kitten-soft jumper and gave him a quick hug and an air kiss. I was turning into such a twat. ‘I’m busted.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said with a laugh, grabbing the blue sweater from behind me and holding it up against himself for approval. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up. ‘I saw you were out today. Getting your Christmas on?’
‘What on earth makes you think I’m excited about Christmas?’ I asked, altogether too aware of how awful I looked. Jesse was one of those men who always looked perfectly put together, even when he was super casual. I assumed it was something to do with being six feet something and having a perfect beard.
‘I don’t know. The light-up reindeer in your office are kind of a hint,’ he said, tossing the blue jumper over his arm. ‘Looking for something for the party on Friday night?’
‘The Christmas party?’ I was so beyond excited about my first ever proper honest-to-the-son-of-God-whose-birthday-we-were-celebrating office Christmas party.
‘Holiday party,’ he said. ‘We’re not allowed to call it a Christmas party because there are lots of different religions represented at Spencer Media, Angela.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ I would never be politically correct enough for America. ‘Are you Jewish?’
‘Catholic,’ he replied. ‘Mostly. I’m yanking your chain.’
‘Right.’ I raised my eyebrows and forced myself not to sigh. Sometimes, America … ‘Am I still allowed to be Christmas shopping?’
‘As long as you don’t say the “C” word in front of HR,’ he confirmed. ‘Who’s the sweater for?’
‘My husband,’ I said, holding up the jumper again and frowning. ‘Alex. Alex Reid. I didn’t change my name. But I’m married. To Alex.’
There was a good chance I was over-explaining but for one, I felt bad that I’d been caught Christmas shopping when the rest of the office was slaving away and two, not to put too fine a point on it, Jesse was hot. And hot men made me nervous.
‘Aah, the mysterious Mr Angela.’ Jesse stroked his chin through the stubble and smiled. His eyes were very blue. His hair was very black, a little bit like Alex’s, only shorter. Of course he wasn’t as handsome as Alex, I reminded myself quickly, and as sexy as that beard might look, it would almost certainly give a girl a rash. ‘He’s a sweater guy?’
‘Against his will, on special occasions,’ I said, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt. ‘He’s a perennial jeans and T-shirt kind of a man.’
Why was it always so weird to see someone you worked with outside work? I spent between eight and twelve hours a day with Jesse, five days a week, and had never so much as coloured up when he tipped me the wink in the office but three minutes of casual conversation in the Bloomingdales basement and I felt like a complete slag.
‘I feel him,’ Jesse said, clearly not awkward at all. ‘I only dress up for you.’
‘Huh?’
‘In the office?’ he gave me a huge grin. ‘I figured jeans and tees every day would be pushing my luck. With Mary mostly.’
‘Oh, of course,’ I agreed quickly, nodding so hard I thought my head might fall off. ‘Yeah, she can be a bit strict. Although I’m a bit more casual off duty, as you can see.’
Better to bring up my bag lady ensemble than have him say nothing then run back to the office and tell them all what a tramp I was. Not that there was a single person in that office that hadn’t walked in on me trying to get some sort of stain out of some sort of clothing in the last year.
‘I like it.’ Jesse flicked some presumably very real dust from my shoulder. ‘Totally punk.’
‘Totally what I was going for,’ I said, relaxing a little. ‘You’re Christmas shopping too?’
‘Yeah.’ He waved the blue sweater in the air and rolled his blue eyes. ‘I’m doing so well. We both know I’m gonna end up wearing this before I give it to my brother. I can’t cope with going out to do laundry in this weather.’
I nodded in agreement, bathing silently in the glow of the brand new washer and dryer in our new apartment. Soon, my precious, soon.
‘You’re in Williamsburg, right?’ he asked, digging around in his Manhattan Portage messenger bag. ‘You should come to my band’s show Thursday night. You haven’t seen us play before, right?’
‘I have not,’ I said, taking the flyer and scanning it quickly. Music Hall, Thursday at eleven. So past my bedtime, but super close to my apartment.
‘Yeah, we’re R5-D4.’ He pointed to the band at the top of the list. ‘It’s a dumb name.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ I said reflexively. I had no idea if it was dumb or not. ‘Ooh, you’re headlining.’
‘Yeah, it’s our friend’s night,’ he shrugged. Bless him for being so blasé about it. I’d once heard someone say there were a hundred blogs on the internet for every one that had a reader. If that was true, there had to be a thousand bands in Williamsburg for every one that only ever played in their friend’s basement. Thursday night at Music Hall was nothing to be sniffed at. ‘It should be fun, though. You should come. I’ll put you on the list.’
‘I’ll try.’ It was as committal as I could be. ‘As long as you don’t quit and leave me in the lurch looking for a new managing editor while I’m looking after things for Mary.’
‘We’re a long way from quitting our day jobs,’ he promised. ‘As you’ll see if you come to the show.’
‘Maybe Alex’ll come,’ I said, more wondering to myself than to Jesse. ‘My husband. He’s a musician, he’s in a band.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ he said with another shy smile. Bloody Americans and their perfect teeth. If I weren’t dead against it, I’d have been pitching Jenny’s empty womb for rent at that exact second. Smart, handsome and brilliant gnashers. She could do worse. ‘I love Stills. They were like my favourite band when I was in college.’
College? How old was he? How old was I?
‘I should go,’ Jesse said, looking at his watch. ‘I ran out as soon as Mary wasn’t looking but I had better get back before the staff meeting.’
‘You’re making me feel so guilty.’ I pushed my dirty hair out of my face and held my head. ‘Tomorrow is going to be hard work, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe I won’t mention I saw you.’ Jesse tapped his nose and tossed the sweater over his shoulder. ‘Secret Shoppers Anonymous.’
‘I wouldn’t hate you if you didn’t.’ I dug my hands deep in my jeans pockets, feeling a bit odd again. ‘I’d better get back upstairs. See you tomorrow?’
‘At work or in Macy’s?’ he asked as I walked away.
‘Make it Barneys and you’ve got yourself a date,’ I laughed before immediately blushing from head to toe. ‘A shopping date. Obviously.’
‘Too late,’ he deadpanned, turning to the cash desk. ‘I’m going straight to HR when I get back to the office.’
And even though I was smiling as I walked away, I still felt a little unsettled. The Americans were a litigious people.
When I got back up to the second floor, I had a sneaking suspicion that Jenny wouldn’t have been able to keep clear of the changing room and give Louisa the space she so clearly needed. After a quick scout around the shoe section proved fruitless, I ran back to the changing room.
‘Jenny, I’m just not sure,’ I heard Louisa protest inside. ‘I don’t think it’s really me.’
‘Don’t be dumb,’ Jenny replied. ‘It’s all wipe clean, baby sick proof. It’s totally practical.’
When I threw open the door, I was treated to the sight of Louisa clad in a backless leather bustier and leather trousers so tight I could more or less see exactly where Grace had come into the world.
‘Help?’ she said, afraid to move in her towering high heels.
‘Doesn’t she look awesome?’ Jenny stood beside her masterpiece and gave me a double thumbs up. ‘Hell of a makeover.’
‘Hell seems about right,’ I said, fighting a smile that would not be welcomed by either of my friends. ‘I reckon we probably ought to get back home soon, relieve Alex of his Grace-sitting duties?’
‘Oh, yes please,’ Louisa nodded, immediately bending down to take off the ridiculous stripper heels Jenny had chosen for her. ‘I’m sure she’ll be missing her mummy.’
‘You two suck,’ Jenny announced, hands on hips. ‘I hope you know that.’
‘We do,’ I said, throwing an arm around Louisa’s shoulders and squeezing them in a half-hug. ‘And we’re fine with it.’
‘They’re totally unconscious,’ I announced, quietly closing the bedroom door on Grace and Louisa, both completely sparked out on my bed at three in the afternoon. Alex nodded from his cross-legged position in front of his record racks. Someone had had a very busy morning pretending to start packing up the apartment. He was surrounded by record sleeves, some I recognised, some I didn’t, all showing the careful wear and tear of being played often but with love.
‘Jet lag’s a bitch,’ Alex said, sliding a Nirvana album into the slots of a special packing crate. ‘They must be exhausted.’
We’d been out of the house for nearly five hours and Alex had filled one box. But he had been on babysitting duty and I couldn’t imagine he’d allowed Grace anywhere near his precious vinyl collection. I was only allowed to touch the records if I washed my hands and even then I was forbidden to drop the needle on the record player, following an unfortunate scratching incident with my dad’s Police record when I was five. I still couldn’t believe my dad remembered that. Or that he had told Alex within fifteen minutes of meeting him.
‘Can you believe all this Tim stuff, though?’ I had filled him in on the basics with a series of exclamation mark-filled texts on our way back in the cab. ‘I just can’t get my head around it.’
‘Yeah, it’s too bad.’ Alex cleared a spot beside him for me to sit down. I stretched out along the floor, pulling the Ramones T-shirt I’d borrowed in my rush to get dressed that morning over my bare belly. ‘I liked that guy. I hope they can figure it out.’
‘What did you and Grace get up to?’ I said, resting my head in his lap. ‘She went out like a light.’
‘I took her to the park,’ he said, pushing away the rest of his records and stroking my hair away from my face. ‘She’s a maniac. I thought my legs were going to fall off chasing her around the dog run. Word of advice, never let a kid see a puppy if she can’t actually have it. I had to bribe her to stop crying with all the candy on earth.’
I decided to keep that information from Louisa, just in case.
‘So you’re over the baby crazies?’ I asked, bridging my neck to look into his green eyes. ‘One morning with a toddler was enough?’
‘Are you kidding me?’ He leaned down to plant a kiss on my nose before carefully placing my head on the floor and pushing himself up to his feet. ‘I loved it. I was, like, the best dad ever. And seriously, I wish I’d had a kid to drag around when I was single – I’ve never been hit on so many times in my life.’
‘Well, that’s nice to hear,’ I said, giving him the dead eye from my spot on the floor. ‘You massive shit.’
‘I only took one phone number,’ he said with a smirk, kicking me in the hip with love. ‘So are you going to stay down there or help me pack up some of your shit?’
‘I’m going to stay down here,’ I replied. ‘The floor is good. There’s no magazine, or move, or mental friends, or evil assistants, or uninvited parents. There is just the floor.’
‘And what’s going to happen when you have to get off the floor?’ he asked, crouching behind the tree to turn on the still blinking lights. He knew me so well. ‘And all those things are still problems?’
‘Move to Lapland?’
Alex grinned and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He still hadn’t had it cut and I was still happy about it. My mum wouldn’t be impressed, though.
‘Shall we take this one at a time?’ he suggested.
I shrugged and stretched out my arms and legs, making a snow angel in the middle of all the records.
‘So, I really haven’t had a chance to tell you but I am stupid impressed at the fact they made you editor of your magazine.’
‘Interim editor,’ I said with faux modesty. I knew I liked him for a reason.
‘Whatever, I think it’s pretty hot.’ Alex began taking books off the bookcase and carefully stacking them in one of the empty boxes by my feet. ‘My wife, the editor. And you’re going to be awesome at it so let’s stop pretending that’s a problem.’
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ I replied, gazing lovingly at my tree. And then my husband. And then my tree.
‘You don’t have to worry about the move at all. I’ve got that all covered,’ he swore. ‘And Delia has promised that the evil assistant isn’t going to give you any shit, correct?’
‘She has,’ I admitted. ‘But really—’
‘Then you worry about that when you need to.’ Alex cut me off with his wacky common sense. ‘I get why you’re freaking out but if you told Delia you’ll give her a chance, then I say give her a chance. Maybe she’s on some new meds or something. People do change, you know. Occasionally.’
Hmm. This time I just concentrated on the tree.
‘As for the other two, they’re not even problems. Louisa needs a few days to straighten herself out. I bet when she wakes up from her nap, she’ll be ready to get back on the plane.’
I wasn’t so sure about that one but I was too tired to argue. Glancing over at my advent calendar hanging on the kitchen cupboard door, I wondered whether I could sneak tomorrow’s chocolate without Alex noticing.
‘And yeah, your parents coming over could be kind of stressful but it’s Christmas,’ he said. ‘It might be fun to have the folks around. Isn’t that what the holidays are all about?’
‘You’ve never spent Christmas with my folks,’ I reminded him. ‘Imagine my mum the day before the wedding, times a million. Annette gets stressed which means I get stressed which means you, my love, will get stressed.’
Alex blanched slightly and paused in his packing.
‘I just figured they might bring a bunch of those awesome orange cookie cake things,’ he admitted. ‘Can’t they just get drunk and pass out like normal people?’
‘I’ve already got Jaffa Cakes, I was just hiding them so you didn’t eat them all before Christmas,’ I whined. ‘And no, they can’t. Well, my dad can and will but my mum will be a massive pain in the arse. I really wanted it to be just us. I wanted our Christmas.’
Alex put the books in his arms into the box and walked back over to me, stepping over my waist and kneeling down. Pulling me up against his chest, he pressed his lips against mine in a long, tender, quiet kiss before wrapping his arms around me.