“Are you bringing someone? Ben, maybe?”
Ben? I put the small glass back and grab a coffee mug instead.
This conversation is going to need a lot more alcohol than anticipated.
“Ben, as in my ex from uni?” I sit down and take a long sip. “Ben, as in the guy who broke up with me four years ago and is now married, Ben?”
“Oh, don’t start with that tone. What do I know? You never tell meanything.”
And this is exactly why.
I grab the pile of mail and rip open the first envelope.
My eyes land on a black-and-white headshot, and I grimace.
“Mum, why is Aunt Marie sending me headshots of cousin Bianca?”
“Well, because you work in the industry.”
I sigh and let my forehead drop onto the wooden table.
“Mum, I’m an accountant for Pinewood Studios. That’s hardly working ‘in the industry.’” I lift my head just enoughto glare at my phone. “And I’m not even involved with the financial side of anything glamorous—I manage suppliers’ accounts. You’ve got to stop saying that.”
“Is it wrong that I’m proud of you?”
“You’re proud of the version of me you’ve made up in your head.” I let out a sigh. “Look, I have to go. Just say yes for the plus-one.”
“Oh, so you are seeing someone!”
Her voice reaches a frequency so high only whales can hear it.
“Goodnight, M?—”
“Just give me his name, and I’ll leave you alone.” She pauses. “The whole weekend.”
That’s the best trade-off I’ve ever heard.
“Anlon.”
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the wise men, why on earth did I say that?
“Anlon? Is he Christian?”
“Goodnight, Mum,” I say firmly before hanging up.
I look up to find Pea staring at me from his perch on the cabinet.
“Don’t judge me. I panicked, okay?”
Pea meows before turning tail and leaving, his disapproval loud and clear.
Betrayed by my own cat.
I finish my food, change into the fluffiest pajamas I own, and curl up on the sofa with another mug of wine—the one that’ll officially send me from buzzed to tipsy.
Then I grab my laptop and open it up.
I always write the best sex scenes when I’m a little tipsy.
