He laughs. “Come on, why haven’t you found anyone for him? He’s spectacularly good-looking, funny, very clever, and the kindest person I know. This should be a piece of cake, which incidentally he can also make.”

“It’s not that easy. I have been trying.”

“Well, what about Paul?”

I look disdainfully at him. “He has a unibrow.”

He blinks. “Martin, then. He’s lovely and single.”

“He’s single because he’s married to his mother, and she repels all newcomers.”

“Edward Sampson?”

“Are you serious? He’s boring as hell and so pompous.”

“Okay,” he says triumphantly. “What about Luke? He’s lovely. Bloody hell, if I were gay, I’d date him.”

I scoff. “No. He’s got those… those teeth.”

There’s a long pause as Rupert stares at me and I try not to wriggle. “Hmm, teeth. Tell me, Misha, is having teeth a deal-breaker for Charlie?”

“Take the piss all you like, but when Luke gets close, it looks like he’s going to eat you.”

He watches me, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. His expression is placid, and my attention sharpens. It’s never a reassuring sign with Rupert. For all his affability, he’s very astute.

“Well, how about Misha?” he says.

“Misha, who? We don’t know any other Mishas, and I’m sure that—” I pause. “Oh, very funny.”

He leans forward and taps the desk. “Think about it. He likes old reruns of Blackadder, and so does Charlie. He loves Thai food, and so does Charlie. Misha and Charlie love dancing in clubs and going to the cinema. They’re both laidback and funny. In fact, I pretty much think they share one mind between two bodies because they’re so alike.”

“We are nothing alike. He’s got the shininess of a new two-pound coin. I’m far more cynical.”

“You’re alike enough to fill in the gaps with each other. The best partnerships are like that.”

“I don’t think–” I start to say loftily.

He blows a raspberry. “Don’t even go there, Misha Lebedinsky.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was in the same room with you the other day, and I saw the way you were looking at Charlie.”

“Like a great friend,” I say primly.

“No, like a dog eyeing a steak.”

I throw my hands up. “I can’t talk to you when you’re chatting shit.”

“You mean when I’m telling the truth?” He looks at me levelly, unaffected by my slight temper tantrum. I blow out a huge sigh, scrubbing my hands down my face.