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Alex picked at the peeling wallpaper and slumped against the doorjamb. Ignoring his texts and voicemails was hard enough but this? What to do? Her bruised heart screamed, Go to him, but how could she live with herself if she gave in so easily? She pulled away, but Mark’s sweatshirt kept her tethered to the wall. A loose thread had snagged on a sneaky nail and wouldn’t let go.

“Mark, she’s not interested.” Lucy shoved the door closed.

“Wait! Lucy! FUCK!” Mark threw his arms into the air and turned to Freddie, lowering his voice. “Any chance you still have a spare key?”

“Lucy, at least let me in. I’m dying for a wee—”

Mark gave his friend a double take. “Mate, really?”

Freddie shrugged. “Too much tea.”

Alex fought with the sweatshirt, but the more she struggled, the more the stitching unraveled.

“Better hurry, Freds,” Lucy hollered. “The kebab shop closes at eleven. You’ve got five minutes.”

“Lucy, come on, please.” Mark pounded his fist on the door.

Outside, a sudden brightness lit up the right side of the front window. Alex froze.

“Nice one, Keegs. You’ve woken up the widow next door. Go. HOME. Before she calls 999.” Lucy stared through the peephole. “Do you want a New Year’s mug shot? The press will love that.”

Mark slumped. “Lucy, I’m not giving up. As long as Lex is here, I’m staying.” He clamped his mouth shut, tugged his cap over his eyes, and plunged downwards, revealing a blurry blob of Freddie standing in his shadow.

“Mate, what the hell?” Freddie’s voice rose. “You can’t stay here. You’ve already got the hangover from hell. You…You’ll catch the lurgy.”

Lucy stomped past Alex to the window, yanking the curtains aside. “Mark, stop being a knob!” She turned to Alex. “I think that daft boyfriend of yours is having a sit-in on the doorstep.”

Freddie shivered, drenched from the unrelenting rain. “Great! You’ve totally lost the plot, and I’m bursting for a piss…” He turned towards the road, keeping his back against the driving wind and rain. “I’m off! Give me a bell if you’re coming back to ours.”

Lucy banged on the window. “Don’t even think of leaving him here, Freds.”

“It’s okay, you go,” said Mark, nestled into the alcove. “You don’t need to stay.”

A bolt of lightning lit up the skies. With a violent clap of thunder, the dark sky doubled its efforts to drown the streets of London.

“Ah, fuck it! Shift your arse…” Freddie sunk into the alcove where Mark had hunkered down, disappearing from Lucy’s view.

With a sharp tug, Alex finally freed herself from the wall. Fuck! A huge tear now separated the bottom hem from the shirt. She retreated to the stairs, torn between running to or running from Mark.

Before, that had never been a decision to make. Being reunited with Mark had always been the answer, but the previous night, the morning after—they had changed everything. Fallon’s damning Instagram photos, Mark’s lying about knowing her, his almost tangible guilt—he had betrayed her trust, completely.

Alex no longer knew what to believe or what to do. Had she been duped all along? Was Mark just pretending to be serious about her? All those times he couldn’t say no to Wink, the broken dates and cancelled holidays—was it his cowardly way of putting space between them? Had he been pining after his first love all this time?

Or maybe he was telling the truth—maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people, fueled by a stupid, misguided bender then exploited for sex by an unscrupulous ex? He had come to her, after all. Would he have done so if she didn’t matter at all? Mark had always been the answer, always, but…their universe had shifted.

Sat near the top of the stairs, Alex stared down at the front door. Mark was only a dozen yards away, but in reality, there had never been a greater distance between them.

Lucy returned to the front door. “Better cuddle up, then, boys,” she hollered through the wood, switching off the front light. “You’re in for a bloody long wait—and Freddie, don’t even think of weeing in my wheelie bin.”

• • •

Bundled up in Charlie’s duvet, Alex splayed one hand on the bedroom window as she clasped her Vespa charm in the other. She angled to look straight down, squishing her forehead against the glass. The iciness jolted her skin, but the chilly ache couldn’t compare to the heaviness in her chest. The rain had stopped a half-hour ago and a thick fog now cloaked the street. An eerie glow from the streetlights set off the reflective orange, yellow, and blue striped markings on the side of the police vehicle that had just arrived. Two Metropolitan police officers made their way towards the house.

Alex shivered, desperate for a glimpse of Mark or Freddie, but they were still tucked away.

The female constable adjusted her cap. “Good evening.” Her voice echoed in the damp street. “We’re from Borough High Street station. There’s been a complaint about two men loitering and exhibiting antisocial behaviour—causing a disturbance and public urination. Could you tell us your names and addresses, please?”

Down in the alcove, Mark and Freddie’s responses were a mumble.