Page 82 of The Work Husband

‘Hi.’ And then because I couldn’t think of what else to say, ‘You gave Milton his dinner.’

‘Come on, Georgia. Like I had a choice in the matter. He practically mugged me when I walked in the door.’

I smiled and saw an answering smile on Sam’s face.

‘I was working late,’ I told him apologetically. ‘Last night as well. He’s not been best pleased with me.’

And he’s not the only one, I thought. But I couldn’t help the flicker of hope that lit up my heart like the first glow of a candle on a birthday cake.

‘I came back to get some stuff,’ Sam explained. ‘But I got ambushed. When he saw me, he demanded food and then cuddles, so I had to sit down. I’ll clear off now, if you want?’

He shifted on the sofa, but Milton gave a protesting meow and dug all twelve of his front claws into Sam’s thighs.

‘Looks like he’s not letting you move just yet,’ I said. ‘He’s glad you’re here.’

‘Since I’m stuck here for the foreseeable’ – Sam scratched Milton behind the ears, and I heard his purr rumbling out – ‘any chance of a drink?’

‘Of course. Tea? Coffee? Beer? I’m not sure what there is in the fridge.’

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

In the kitchen, Sam’s bag sat on the worktop next to an empty pouch of cat food. Ambush was right – he hadn’t stood a chance of doing anything else before giving Milton his delayed dinner.

He hadn’t even had time to help himself to a drink from the fridge that was, after all, still half his. I wondered whether he would have done that otherwise – whether he’d have waited for me to come home so he could see me as well as Milton.

I rinsed out the cat food sachet and put it away for recycling, then found a bottle of merlot and two glasses. Then I joined Sam and Milton on the sofa, reaching out to caress the cat’s soft fur but not touching the denim-clad legs that were directly beneath his body.

‘He missed… he misses you,’ I said. ‘He snuffles around on your side of the bed at night for ages, and then he goes to sleep on your pillow.’

‘Doesn’t sound much like missing to me.’ Sam smiled. ‘Sounds like he’s enjoying having a pillow to himself and you haven’t changed the sheets since I lef— since I’ve been staying at Jared’s.’

‘I have too!’ I protested. ‘I did on Sunday. So there.’

‘That’s more than I have,’ Sam admitted. ‘Me and Jared have been fully embracing the bachelor lifestyle. I found a pizza crust down the sofa the other day that was practically fossilised. Won’t be long before I’m watching Andrew Tate videos and wanking into my socks.’

‘Eeeeuw! You wouldn’t wank to Andrew Tate, would you?’

Sam burst out laughing, and I joined him.

‘Seriously, though.’ My laughter ended almost before it had properly got going. ‘Are you… I mean, Jared’s normal flatmate – what’s his name?’

‘Enrico.’

‘Enrico’s been working away, right? But he’s coming back. And he’ll need his room.’

Sam nodded.

Sayitsayitsayit, I willed him. Say you’ll have to move back in…

But instead Sam said, ‘He’s back in about ten days. Eleven, maybe. So I’ll need to get a hustle on and find somewhere else. And then I guess…’

My heart sank.

‘There was a leaflet through the letter box yesterday.’ Normally I’d have chucked it in the recycling, but I hadn’t. ‘From an estate agent. Walkerson’s. I could call them and…’

My voice petered out. The idea of someone coming into our flat, measuring the rooms, scaring Milton, putting a value on the safe home Sam and I had created together was almost unbearable.

‘I can’t afford to rent somewhere and pay the mortgage here,’ Sam said gently. ‘Not long term anyway. Maybe for a couple of months. We don’t need to rush into anything.’