Logically, Ben knew that it shouldn't bother him.

But it did.

It really did.

He stared blankly at the computer screen. The cursor blinked back at him accusingly. Words floated off the page — acquisition, income, and joint venture — but his mind wasn't absorbing them. The office coffee machine hummed. Chairs scraped back. Life went on as usual, and Ben ought to crack on, too.

"What is it?" Aman asked.

His secretary was arranging a bouquet, chewing a wad of bubblegum. His top — a yellow mesh vest under a blazer — was ragingly inappropriate for the office, but nobody had commented. Everybody loved Aman; he could have worn a bin bag and gotten away with it.

"Nothing," Ben grunted.

"Mate," Aman said. "Do you think I was born yesterday?" He said the words 'do you' like d'ya, two lovers that couldn't bear to be separated. "You look terrible."

"Cheers," Ben muttered.

Aman popped his gum. "You'll feel better if you let it out."

"There's nothing to let out."

"Denial," Aman said sagely. "The refuge of the meek and frightened."

Ben turned back to his computer screen. He read the same paragraph. Re-read it. Across the room, Aman started humming something that sounded suspiciously like "Let It Go" from Frozen.

Ben sighed. "Can you stop that? I'm trying to work."

"Mmmhmmm."

There was another pause. Aman went back to fluffing the floral bouquet. Once again, Ben wondered why he'd become a tax lawyer; he'd much rather be buying flowers and watching Love Is Blind on corporate time.

He typed a word.

Deleted it.

"This," Aman said, "is painful to watch."

"Fine!" Ben leaned back, holding up his hands. "Fine. But it's stupid. I can't believe I'm about to admit this to you."

Aman laced his hands together. "Go on."

"So in bed last night, Louise said—"

"Hang on." Aman made a choking sound. "You're sharing a bed with her?"

Heat rushed to his face. "It's temporary."

"Right." Aman waved a ringed hand at him. "Continue."

"So Louise is having a dream last night." Ben had thought it was a nightmare at first, actually, given how heavily she was breathing. "And halfway through, she says the word Sebastian." He paused. "Sebastian is the name of her boss."

"Ah," Aman said. "You're jealous."

Ben frowned. "I'm not jealous." Aman lifted an eyebrow, and a surge of irritation filled him. "I'm not! I'm concerned. That's her boss." He crossed his arms. "Aren't there laws against that sort of thing?"

Aman shrugged. "You're the lawyer. You tell me."

Ben refrained from pointing out that he worked in tax law. Aman had the idea that all lawyers knew everything, when in reality, Ben had spent most of law school perfecting his latte art and playing Resident Evil on his Xbox.

"I just think it's worrying," Ben said. "That's all."

Aman went back to fixing his bouquet. "So you're shagging her, right?"

"What?" Ben's voice rose. "No! Jesus." He glanced around the office. "Keep your voice down. There are clients here."

"But you're sharing a bed," Aman said.

Ben frowned. "Yes."

"Platonically."

"Yeah."

Aman snorted. "Okay, mate."

"What?" Ben demanded.

"Nothing." Aman dropped his hand, scanning his desk; it was an explosion of little paper moons today, and something that may or may not have been a fang. "D'ya have a pen?"

"Seriously, Aman," Ben said. "What?"

"It needs to be a black pen," Aman continued, ignoring this. "I'm drawing a cat for tomorrow. It's National Black Cat Day."

Ben blinked. "You've just made that up."

Aman pressed his hand to his chest. "I assure you, I have not; it's a very real holiday. Cats everywhere are offended by your ignorance."

Ben sighed, tossing him a pen. Aman yelped, ducked, and let it collide with the wall. Ben turned back to the laptop. The time on the screen read 2:58pm, which was good enough for him; he'd have to leave to pick up the kids soon.

He shut the laptop. "So you think I shouldn't worry? About Louise and her boss?"

Aman picked up the pen. Assessed him.

"Here," Aman said.

He slid a slip of white cardstock across the desk, in the same way that a drug-dealer might slide a packet of cocaine across a table. Ben looked at it warily.

"What is it?"

"The passcode," Aman explained. "For that new speakeasy opening in Soho." He pulled out a piece of paper. "Take Louise. Make a proper night of it."

He frowned. "That's a terrible idea."

"Why not?" Aman asked. "I can watch the kiddos."

This, Ben thought, did nothing to alleviate his fears; he had a sudden vision of Aman and the kids throwing pumpkins at the wall because it was "National-Smash-Squashes" Day. There wouldn't be a house to come back to.

"She'll never agree," Ben said.

This was also true; Bentley would laugh in his face. Ben thought of the look on her face at that wedding five years ago, the casual way she threw around those words. I hate him. I wouldn't date Ben Langford if he were the last man alive on earth. Or in the galaxy.

No.

He'd have to be masochistic to try asking her out. And he didn't want to ask her out, Ben assured himself quickly; he had no interest in Louise Bentley. Other than as a concerned co-parent, of course.

"Thanks," Ben said, pushing the cardstock back, "but no thanks."

Aman — who had been in the process of sketching a cat — looked up. "Muppet."

Ben stiffened. "What?"

"You're a muppet," Aman repeated. "If you fancy her, then ask her out. Simple."

Ben shoved his laptop into his bag. "I don't fancy her."

"Then why are you so scared to ask her out?"

"I'm not scared." Exasperation made his voice tight. "I could text her right now and ask her out if I wanted to."

Aman smirked. "Prove it."

"Jesus," Ben said. "Fine."

Ben pulled out his phone. He was aware of Aman watching him closely as he typed out a message, pausing occasionally to consider his words.

Bentley — fancy a night out in Soho? I've got the passcode to Bar Citizen through work. We could ask Andrew and Ophelia to watch the kids. X

Ben hesitated.

Deleted the 'x', then hit send.

"You see?" He made to pocket the phone. "That wasn't so—"

His phone vibrated. A WhatsApp from Louise.

I think you texted the wrong number.

Ben stared at the screen. Savage. Absolutely savage. Was she joking? It was so hard to read someone's tone in real life, let alone over text.

Hilarious, he wrote.

Louise's response was immediate.

You seriously want to go out just the two of us? Are you feeling okay?

Ben glanced at Aman, who raised his eyebrows. Well. There was no backing down now; he turned back to his phone, his palms slightly clammy.

I can ask Aman instead, he wrote. No sweat off my back.

He sent it. One minute passed. Two. Aman chewed his gum, the pop like a gunshot in the silence. Ben packed more items into his bag: pencils, earbuds, an empty coffee cup... He was just about to give up and head to the tube station when his phone buzzed.

No, I'm in, Louise wrote. Let's get drunk.