‘According to his Twitter he was in Soho last night. There’s a photo of him at some homelessness charity event.’
‘So, if they’re not dating, why did she want rid of me so quickly?’ I ask, walking into the living room. I’ve never been so glad to get into my dressing gown in my life.
‘Maybe she wants to date him but thought if he saw you there it would scupper her chances.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘Why do you care?’ Matt asks, handing me a plate of slightly singed French toast. ‘You don’t want her back, do you?’
I throw my towel over the back of the chair and sit. ‘Hell no. I think she’s just given my ego a kicking for the second time. I’m more annoyed with myself than with her.’
‘She needs attention,’ Matt says, pouring some maple syrup on to the side of his plate. ‘She doesn’t care where it comes from. She’s also a gold-digger. No offence, but to someone like her, without your salary, you’re not worth the fake tan.’
‘God, that’s depressing. I hope Dale sees through her quicker than I did.’
Matt continues scrolling through Twitter as we eat, making sure he gets even amounts of syrup on each piece of French toast. Then he suddenly stops, mid-bite.
‘Mate. You’re going to want to see this.’
‘What?’
Matt hands me the phone to reveal a photo of Angela and me kissing outside the club.
‘If Angela was looking to keep this quiet from Dale, she’s fucked up big time.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time Sarah and Alfie return from her parents’ house, Angela has called me forty-seven times and left me over twenty voicemails. The picture of us has been feverishly retweeted by people who give a shit about that kind of thing and I’m mortified. I didn’t like being pictured with her when we were dating, and I hate it even more now.
‘She’s attractive,’ Sarah remarks, looking at her photos. She’s brought Alfie over so she and Matt can have their first cinema date of the new year. ‘Good hair. . . strong eyebrow game.’
Matt laughs as she hands him back his phone. ‘She’s desperate to get Nick to publicly announce that they’re not back together and that it was just a friendly, platonic kiss.’
‘I’m not getting involved,’ I interject. ‘She can sort out her own mess.’
‘Dale’s already been seen hanging out with some woman who was onThe Voice,’ Matt continues. ‘I think she’s flogging a dead horse now.’
Sarah and I glance at each other before laughing. ‘Is celebrity gossip just a hobby or a real passion, Matt?’ she asks. ‘What’s Harry Styles up to these days? Or Adele?’
‘No idea,’ he replies, grinning. ‘I’m only interested in Z-listers who bother my friends. Speaking of Nick’s exes, before I forget, I can’t go to Greta’s wedding anymore. Work are sending me to Washington for four days. Some acquisition bullshit. In fact, I’ll be on the flight home while you’re all getting drunk.’
‘Oh bugger,’ Sarah says, not quite managing to hide her disappointment. ‘That’s a pity.’
‘You’re joking? Wait. . . Washington DC or Washington Newcastle?’ I ask.
‘There’s a Washington in Newcastle?’
‘So, DC then,’ I reply. ‘That sucks. You know that Harriet isn’t going either, but she has her pregnancy as an excuse. Greta will murder you, you realise that.’
‘Yeah. I feel bad. I’m actually pretty gutted to be missing it, but there’s nothing I can do.’
‘You should feel bad,’ I insist. ‘Now I’m going to have to hang out with people I hardly know, and Sarah here won’t get to steal something from Claridge’s.’
Sarah laughs, but I can tell she’s disappointed.
‘So, take Sarah as your plus-one,’ Matt suggests. ‘Everyone’s a winner.’
Sarah and I look at each other and then back at Matt.
