I've got my first match of the season for Shahi today, and I'm flying around the house trying to locate my kit. Likely should have gotten it ready yesterday, but we spent the morning at the pool and the afternoon was parked in front of the telly watching the season opener for Watford.

Paige and Joey now know about half the players' names—between the two of them, they've almost got the full squad. Might have had it all by now if they'd seen more than a handful of games before the end of last season. As it is, they've both got a sense of the rules and can identify a good play, even if they can't explain it. Well, Paige can. Joey does a lot of jumping around and yelling, "Get in there" when we're close to scoring.

After four months in my nanny position, I no longer live in constant fear that Paige will sack me each Friday as we eat fish and chips. We've fallen into a comfortable routine during the week of Paige working long hours and me keeping the kids and house mostly tidy. Not going to claim my housework is ace, but Paige has become easier for me to read.

A lack of comment from her means I've met the bar—whatever it happens to be. She's free with her compliments when I've exceeded her expectations, and if I'm honest, that's mostly been with my cooking. Spag bol is not my only specialty now. And when I miss the mark, she's direct and honest in a way I actually quite appreciate. No guessing. Lays out the faults, nice and simple.

Even though Paige and I aren't in a relationship, it's impossible not to compare my current situation to what I had with Immy for ten years. Had anyone asked me before she left, I would have said we had a good relationship. We never broke up, and we got on pretty well most of the time. From fifteen to twenty-five, she was all I'd ever known. First everything.

But I also would have admitted that women, and Imogen, were a bit of a mystery. Hard to please. Tough to read. Irrational. Bloody high maintenance. Maybe all of those in one day. When Immy was switched on, there was no one I'd rather be around, but her emotions operated on a dimmer, and I wasn't often sure what setting we were on. Talking to my mates, it felt like all women were some version of that. When you love someone, you take the bad with the good and hope it balances out. To me, it did, most of the time.

Paige isn't like Immy; she's exactly as she seems. Foul mood? Obvious. Good mood? Plain as day. The in between moods are also easy enough to navigate, and when she's in a terrible mood or she's bubbling over in excitement, she'll tell me why. The scales with her might not always be balanced, but I can understand how and why they've been tipped. Her communication skills are top notch.

Lately I've been wondering whether sex is the reason living with Paige is so much easier. Or rather, the lack of sex or anything sexual. No entanglements of the body or the heart.

Bit of a complicated realization given that I've found myself thinking a little too much about Paige when I've been in the shower taking matters into my own hands. Having a fit boss would be alright if that was all it was. Something to look at but not touch. The reality is, no matter how much I might be starting to fancy her and this little life we've built in this house, I can't afford to act on my growing attraction.

I've got another eight months of savings and stability for me and Chloe. If I didn't get fired for almost burning down the house, literally burning her clothes, or likely being on the cusp of giving everyone food poisoning more than once, I can't get my dick out and cock it all up. I can't.

Still, I stand in the corridor listening to her hum in the kitchen. A familiar sound when she's content. She's cleaning, and I'm tempted to nip in to say goodbye face-to-face. The fact that urge exists is a problem. We're not a couple, even if the lines might be growing fuzzy on my end.

"I'm off," I call to her as I stuff the last shoe in my bag and head for the front door.

"Good luck!" She appears in the doorway to the kitchen. Both kids are down for a kip, and she has a bottle of spray and a cloth in her hands.

"Don't need luck when I've got skills." I give her a cheeky grin, and my palm grips the door handle.

"You're going to the pub after for a couple drinks with Tejinder?"

"Yeah, if that's alright. Or if you've got work to do, I don't need to." Today is my birthday, and Tejinder offered to take me for a pint. I haven't said a word to Paige because I didn't want it to be awkward. She's got no reason to celebrate my birthday, and I wouldn't want her to feel obligated to get me something. No matter how things might feel sometimes, she's my employer, not my friend or anything else.

"No," she says, and a slow smile spreads across her face. "I'm sure you'll have fun."

There's something about the way she says it that causes me to cock my head and examine her for a beat. I've missed a cue or caught a cue I shouldn't have. Something. A horn sounds in the laneway.

"You'd better get going or you'll be late. You'll never hear the end of it from Tejinder if you're not on time for the first game."

"Right. Yeah." I give her one last searching glance before heading to Tejinder's vehicle. He offered to drive so I could celebrate my birthday after the match. Whatever I've missed with Paige, I reckon she'll tell me later.

~ * ~

After the match when I slide into Tejinder's passenger seat to head to the pub, I'm feeling quite chuffed, even if Tejinder was a slowcoach coming out of the changing room. Scored a goal on my birthday—the winning goal, no less. Not bad for an old geezer like me.

"Shame no one else is able to come to the pub," Tejinder says as he shifts the car into first.

"It's a bit rubbish since we mentioned it last week." I stare out the window as we drive toward the local pub. If more of them had come, I'd end up sloshed. Since Paige isn't much of a drinker, I've only had a few beers since I started working for her, and I'm convinced nannying with a hangover isn't an experience I'm after. Joey and Chloe have started fighting like two people about to get divorced, and it's not uncommon for one of them to end up in floods of very loud tears at various points throughout the day. "I hope Paige is getting on alright with the kids."

"One of those kids is hers," Tejinder says dryly. "Why would you be worried?"

"Kids been fightin' a lot lately."

"They are being raised like siblings—you and Paige as the parents." He shrugs before he turns into the carpark out in front of the pub. We're the only vehicle here. "You sure there's nothing going on between you two?"

"Nothin'," I say, and I don't disguise my annoyance. Diya and Tejinder routinely come for Sunday dinner if we don't go to the pub with the football lads. He knows us better than anyone, and he shouldn't need to ask.

"As I've said before, she's fit. Wouldn't blame you. Honestly, anything to get you past the Imogen rut. Paige is maybe a tad uptight—"

"She's not," I say. "She knows what she wants. Nothing wrong with that."

A broad smile blooms across Tejinder's face, and I'm tempted to smack the bugger for luring me into defending her. Whether or not he actually believes Paige is uptight, he bloody well did that on purpose.

"Reckon we should get in there." Tejinder rubs his hands together. "My goal is to get you drunk enough to tell Paige, or really any bird, mind you, that she's fit." He opens his door and climbs out.

"I'm not on the pull," I say as I walk beside him to the door. "A drink or two to celebrate getting older, if not wiser."

"I'm with you on the not wiser part," Tejinder says as he holds open the door for me.

The lights are off inside, and I'm just about to turn around to tell Tejinder the place is shut when everything comes to life.

"Surprise!" The chorus comes from a sea of faces that I recognize, some of whom I haven't seen in ages.

"What is this?" I crow as Tejinder slaps me on the back.

"Happy Birthday, mate. The fit bird back at your house didn't want your birthday celebrated with a just a pint or two. She made some calls to get you a proper celebration."

No one has ever thrown me a surprise party before. In fact, part of the reason I didn't mention my birthday to Paige is because I've been let down too many times before from people who didn't remember or couldn't be arsed.

"Is she here?" I scan the crowd as people start to come toward me in a flock with pints held out. Blimey, I'm in trouble. Hangover will commence now.

"Nah, mate. She's at home with the kids. Tried to convince her I could get her another childminder for the evening, but—" He gives me the side-eye with a barely concealed smile. "Uptight."

I jab him in the side before Patrick, one of the lads from football, passes me a pint. Then I'm surrounded by familiar faces for the rest of the evening. Ever since Chloe was born, it's been impossible to let go enough to enjoy an evening out.

Later, when I'm already a bit blotto, I find Tejinder in the crowd. "She did not ring up all these people."

"She did. Every single one. After I gave her the list, she told me I had two jobs—get you to the pub last and get your drunk arse home safely."

"I can't believe it."

"Me either. I offered to help. Must be fifty people here. She seemed to think making some phone calls and sending some emails was outside my job description." He seems to think about it for a minute. "To be fair, it normally is. Ah, perhaps she was right. I likely would have forgotten."

Diya appears at my side and wraps her arm around my waist, drawing me close. "Happy birthday, Ash."

I squeeze her tight, and as I take in all the people who've come to wish me happy birthday on a Sunday evening, gratitude heats my chest. Paige did this for me. As a gift, it just might be the best one I've ever received. A stress-free night with mates new and old. May not be quite so grateful tomorrow morning when my head is pounding, but I'll face that later.

The only person who'd make tonight even better is at home looking after my daughter, and with any luck, she'll still be awake when I stumble in the door.

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