Tejinder drives into the carpark of the off license, and he sighs. "You're drunk, mate. Absolutely blotto. You sure about this?"

"I am, on all counts." It's true that I'm drunk, but things are only a little blurry. In the past, I've been much worse. Not sure that's the bar I should be setting, but that's where I'm at. Comfortably drunk. "Paige needs to have a birthday drink with me when I get home, and I know she'll drink cold white wine." I open the car door and practically fall out. They'll never serve me like this. "On second thought," I say, holding up my finger. "Here's some dosh." I dig my wallet out of my pocket. "You get it."

Tejinder chuckles and gets out of the car. Through the open window, he leans in. "Flavour? Vintage? I know nothing about wine."

"Cold," I say with conviction. "Only thing that matters."

Within two blinks of my eyes, it feels like Tejinder is gone and back, and we're cruising along the narrow roads back to Paige.

"Are you going to tell her you've got a thing for her?" Tejinder teases.

"I have not got a thing for her," I say, but I'm sure the stupid grin on my face says otherwise. Before tonight I was worried about how I was starting to feel about Paige, but throwing me a surprise party definitely nudged me over a line I've been toeing. "Do you reckon she's thrown a surprise party for all her nannies?"

Tejinder snorts. "Diya says Paige changed nannies like she changed her knickers in America. New ones all the time. You're the longest one she's ever had."

That gives me a moment of pause. While Paige has indicated several times that she can be picky and particular, she's also been remarkably understanding about all my missteps. The only time I thought her head might pop off and rotate around her shoulders was when I burnt three of her skirts in one week. Wrong setting. Got distracted. Left the iron on the skirt for a bit too long (and by a bit, I mean I was lucky there wasn't a fire).

Since she started sending her clothes to the service, and I'm only responsible for the littles and me, that part of the job has been much better for both of us.

"Didn't expect that," I admit.

"You two must talk."

"Not about the past. Her work. My day. The kids. I don't even know who Joey's father is."

"I reckon she used a sperm bank."

"No!" The thought had never occurred to me.

"Someone who likes control that much? Yeeess!" Tejinder laughs, likely at my expression. "She's fit, but I bet she's still a boss in bed."

Fucking sexy as far as I'm concerned. No use fumbling around when someone's willing to give you exact instructions. There. More. Bit harder. Faster. Oh, yes, Ash.

Fuck. I'm turning myself on in Tejinder's car by imagining Paige saying things she'll never say. A bloke can dream.

Part of the reason I haven't been with anyone since Imogen left isn't just a lack of time because of my job or Chloe. For ten years I was with the same person, and I'm not sure I'll be any good with anyone else. Some nights I wasn't even sure I was getting Imogen off or if she pretended so I'd hurry up. Been too ashamed to admit that to anyone, but I'm drunk enough that if this drive was longer, Tejinder might hear more than he wants.

"Probably better for you not to be talking about Immy," Tejinder says. "Any time you think about her, you go a bit funny."

By funny, he means that I long to have her back. Lately, though, I haven't been wishing for her nearly as much. I go days without having her cross my mind, and the crushing sadness that once dominated my thoughts doesn't drag me down at the mere mention of her name.

Tejinder turns into my laneway, and I search the floor for the bottle of wine.

"Mate, it's in your lap." Tejinder laughs when I glance down and realize the annoying coldness on my leg was actually from the wine.

"Might be a bit drunker than I thought."

He puts the car in neutral outside the front door, and he turns to me. "I was teasing you earlier, but don't do anything to cock up your job. Yeah? Paige is fit, and I reckon you do like her, but you love working here. This place suits you down to the ground, and I'm not sure how forgiving Paige would be if you made this mistake."

He's right. I know he's right. If I say or do something and she's not interested, at best, work will get awkward, and at worst, Paige might feel she needs to sack me. I stare at the bottle in my hands and release a deep sigh. What I need to do is clear—shove down this crush and not let it see the light. Be happy and satisfied that I'm able to feel something for someone other than Imogen. That's progress in itself.

"Yeah, course. I would never." I glance at him. "This year has to set me up for whatever comes after."

"Exactly," he says. "Exactly."

I open the car door, and I tumble out, one hand gripping the bottle of wine, and my other palm landing in the gravel laneway to prevent myself from faceplanting.

"Need me to hold your hand?" Tejinder calls from the driver's seat. "Walk you in?"

His tone is teasing, but I know he would if I asked. The best kind of friend—where you can ask them to do anything—no matter how far-fetched—and they'd do it in a heartbeat.

I straighten and dust off my clothes. Tejinder passes me my football kit, and I sling it over my shoulder before weaving my way to the front door. Likely smell like a pub, and now that I'm home, I'm slightly concerned Paige didn't expect me to get this drunk.

Blimey. This could be bad.

"You'd better wait," I say to Tejinder.

At the door, I knock, and my heart is fluttering in my chest.

"What are you doin'?" Tejinder yells out the window. "Forget your keys?"

The door opens, and Paige cocks her head at me, with a slight crease in her brow.

"It was unlocked," she says.

The desire to slide my hand along her cheek, press my lips to hers, and have her bend into me is a physical ache.

But Chloe.

If I fuck this up, I lose my year of stability. All sorts of blog posts and mummy groups have told me the first two years are so vital as a foundation, and I already cocked up the first seven months on my own.

Instead of kissing her, I lean against the doorframe, and I pass her the bottle of wine. "I'm really drunk," I say. "I reckon you should have a drink with me for my birthday."

The frown clears and is replaced by a delighted grin. I'm suddenly calling on every Watford striker I've ever loved to help me keep myself in line. She's gorgeous, and I'm in fucking trouble.

"Did you like your party?"

"I loved my party. No one's ever done that for me before."

Tejinder must decide I'm okay because I hear the crackle of the tires on the laneway as he leaves. Paige is searching my face, and I sense the same longing in her that I have. It's palpable, but I'm not sure if that's just because I'm drunk. Could be I'm imagining the whole thing. Wishful thinking. Magical thinking. A woman like Paige would never truly be interested in someone like me—I've got nothing to offer. Dependent on her for everything.

"I'll have a drink," she says, breaking our eye contact to peer at the bottle. "Though I'm not sure you need another." She heads for the kitchen.

"Always room for another," I say as I shut the front door and follow her.

In the kitchen on the table is a little pyramid of beer cans with a card on top. Each of the beers is one I've favored in the past—when I used to drink a lot more, before Chloe, before Imogen left.

"What's this?" I ask, and I'm surprised to find my voice is husky.

"Oh, I just—" Paige turns a lovely shade of pink and then shrugs. "I'm not trying to turn you into an alcoholic, but I wanted to get you something. Diya said these were good."

"How'd you even know?" Tejinder said she never asked him my birthdate, and Diya said she already knew when she called her to plan something.

"About your birthday?"

I nod.

"Your record check. I put the information into my phone."

Seems on point. As she was typing it in, she was likely congratulating herself for leaving an organized corpse in case I was the murdering type. Still surprises me that she believed I was meant to be a woman and she let me in the door. I take the bottle of wine from her, and I search for the corkscrew stashed in one of these drawers.

After opening the bottle, I pour her a rather sloppy glass of wine, and I pass it to her before taking a cloth and mopping up the excess off the counter. She's taught me well. Things I never used to even consider are now second nature. Don't leave a mess when I've got the brain and the tools to fix it.

"It's good," she says after taking a sip. Then she plucks the card off the top of the beer pyramid and hands it to me. "This is sort of your real present." She gives me a nervous smile.

I take the card from her and turn it around in my hands. Best not be money. The last few weeks, I've started to feel guilty that she's paying me for six days of work when Saturday doesn't seem like work at all. The four of us go for a swim and then either watch some footie or play footie in the front garden and then we get a takeaway. Nothing hard about any of that.

"Paige..."

"Just open it," she says. "Please."

I rip the end and tug the card out of the opening. There's something sliding around inside the card, and I'm worried I won't be appropriately grateful. It's not that I don't need the money—the more I can make the better position Chloe and I will be in when this is over—but I don't want it to feel like charity.

I read the front, and then I flip open the card, and there are two tickets to Watford Football Club's match in two weeks' time. My heart does funny things in my chest. I've never been to a Watford fixture before. Never able to afford it, either in time or money.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve this." My voice is croaky with emotion.

"Kindness doesn't have to be earned, Ash." She sets her wine on the table. "But if it did, you'd have earned it a thousand times over."

On impulse, I grab her and drag her against my chest. She freezes for a brief second, and I loosen my grip, but then she wraps her arms around my middle and rests her head against my chest. It's the first time we've embraced like friends...or something more, and I run my hand along her back drawing her closer, trying to memorize the feel of her pressed against me.

Bloody hell, I'm drunk.

"Come with me," I say.

"Where?" She lets out a little laugh.

"To the match. You got me two tickets. Come with me."

"No!" She draws back, and I regret saying anything that makes her put distance between us. "Take one of your friends. I barely understand anything. You'd spend the whole game telling me what's happening."

Now that I've touched her, it's like my body has detached from my brain. My palm is gliding up and down her arm as though we're old friends.

"If you don't want to go, that's alright. You can say that. But I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't want you there."

She bites her lip and stares at me. The air around us hums, and I'm almost praying the electrical current zaps one of us into doing something dangerous.

"Give you the full British experience," I say, and I lace my fingers with hers.

"My sister arrives the next day for a visit," she says.

"Oh, right. Yeah. I forgot. Doesn't matter—"

"But if Diya or Tejinder can watch the kids, I'd love to go with you."

"Yeah?" I can't keep the hopeful note out of my voice.

"Yeah. And if you wake up sober tomorrow and decide you want to take one of your friends instead, I won't be the least bit offended."

That's not going to happen, but I don't say a word. Instead, I go to the counter and pour myself a glass of wine. Then I raise my glass to her in a toast, and she picks up hers to follow suit.

"To the best employer a bloke ever had." Because whatever is going on in my chest needs a reminder that we're nothing more than employee and employer. Chances are, she's this kind to all her friends and people who work for her, and I shouldn't be reading anything more into it.

"To the best nanny I've ever had," she says, and her smile doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Turns out we both got lucky."

When I take a sip of the wine, the bitter and the sweet mix in me.

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