Lou nodded slowly, her blush creeping across her neck and face.

“Can we just forget it—please?” she said in a small voice that ached with something Stephanie couldn’t identify.

She longed to wrap Lou in her arms and hold her tight. She clenched her hands at her side. Stop it. Fight it. You are not gay. You are not gay.

Stephanie nodded briskly and pulled up the spare chair.

“So.” Her business persona instantly slotted back in place. “Southampton—did you get the updated figures I sent you after our meeting with Tania?”

* * *

Matt rang her on Wednesday night. He had an uncanny ability to know when she was at her lowest.

“Hey, sweet pea, how’s life?” His voice, chirpy as ever, instantly put a smile on her face.

“How do you always do this?” she asked, laughing ruefully. “Do you have a sixth sense or something?” She picked up her glass of wine and took a deeply satisfying gulp.

“Darling, of course not. I’m just a gorgeous gay man who is so in tune with his BFF that he knows instinctively when she needs a little pick-me-up.”

Stephanie laughed out loud. “Oh, come on, seriously, what’s the secret?”

“You were supposed to call me last night. When you miss a call, that’s when I know you have something heavy on your mind that needs discussion. So,” he continued before Stephanie could even begin to apologise, “Friday night, our place. You bring the wine. Jake will cook.”

* * *

Matt and Jake lived in a stunning former workman’s cottage in Stockport that they had lovingly restored and decorated as only two affluent gay men could do.

Matt Pearce was her best friend from uni. They’d both graduated with honours in their business studies degrees and stayed in Manchester after graduation. By then, Matt and Jake were in a serious relationship. Stephanie stayed because she couldn’t face starting anywhere new again, certainly not without Matt, who had become the closest friend she’d ever had.

Despite Matt’s sexuality, she’d never admitted to him her doubts about her own and her fears for what it would mean for her life. He’d asked her outright once, drunk at a party, and she’d lied. It was the only time she’d ever lied to him, and he never brought it up again.

Stephanie rang the doorbell to the cottage at just after seven. Matt ushered her in from the cold and grabbed at the wine she held out.

“Shiraz, fabulous. Jake’s doing some fancy beef stew, so this will be perfect, thanks.”

She leaned in for the proffered hug and allowed herself to be held tight and rocked ever so slightly. She and Matt were the same height, so she rested her chin on his shoulder as he squeezed her gently. She pulled back before the tears fell. They’d been threatening ever since she left work. Probably since about four o’clock, if she was honest.