It Had to Be You Read Online Free

Christ, the whole thing has turned my head. Why the hell am I thinking of his sodding back. Hopefully he’ll be crippled by the morning. That will teach him.
    ‘ Where in Westbourne Grove do you want me to stop love?’
    I see Muffy ’s street approaching.
    ‘ Here will be fine,’ I say.
    I climb out reluctantly. The last thing I want to do is tell my closest friend that the love of my life has just che ated on me with some huge brown-nippled woman on Christmas Eve. Maybe I won’t. Perhaps I’ll just say I was passing and thought I’d drop in for coffee. I pay the exorbitant fare out of my brown envelope. Blimey, that little bonus didn’t last long did it? He stares at the notes like they’re Scottish currency or something. I’m not giving him a bloody tip if that’s what he’s waiting for.
    ‘ Thanks very much,’ I say, slamming the door. ‘The quickie with Bradley Cooper made all the difference.’
    ‘ And a Merry Christmas to you too,’ he says before shooting off.
    Don ’t you just hate people who wish you a Merry Christmas with attitude? It’s obvious they are really wishing you the worst one possible. He got in a bit late didn’t he? Let’s face it; my Christmas couldn’t get less merry if it tried. I trundle down the steps to Muffy’s basement flat and put on a brave face. She opens the door, takes one look at me and the tell-tale M&Ms in my hand and says,
    ‘ Don’t tell me. You found the bugger in bed with some tart from work.’
     
    * * *
     
    ‘What a bastard thing to do at Christmas,’ says Muffy, crashing about in the kitchen.
    What a bastard thing to do, period. I ’m stretched out on her couch with a cold compress on my head and two aspirin fizzing away in a glass of water. I’ve got a box of tissues in one hand and my mobile in the other, although I’m ignoring every call from Oliver, and there have been seven so far. I can’t even bring myself to listen to his voicemail messages.
    ‘ What is it with bloody men and Christmas?’ She yells. ‘They always seem to end up naked with a bimbo balanced on their balls. Christ, if we did that, can you imagine?’
    I sigh.
    ‘No I can’t imagine balancing a bimbo on my balls,’ I say stupidly.
    ‘ What was she like anyway,’ she asks curiously, popping her head around the kitchen door.
    ‘ Oh, you know, young, with massive nipples, gorgeous hair and a voluptuous body. Everything I don’t have,’ I say miserably. ‘The perfect balls-balancing woman I suppose.’
    ‘ Christ,’ she mumbles, putting a plate of mince pies on the table beside me. ‘Don’t you start feeling bad about yourself? Did you read the Robin Norwood book I gave you?’
    Oh God, not the one about women who love too much. It was so bloody depressing. Muffy is my closest girlfriend and staunch feminist, who thinks all men are dysfunctional little shits and who will finally let you down one way or the other. I ’m slowly coming round to her way of thinking.
    ‘ I tried,’ I mumble.
    ‘ I give up with you,’ she groans.
    It seems everyone gives up on me. I so wish I was like Muffy. She is so comfortable with herself although not so comfortable with men mind you. I think she hates them. Muffy has a brilliant job in public relations and always looks terrific whether she has just stepped out of bed or at the end of a stressful day. Men fall at her feet, seriously, a nd she just walks all over them. If I didn’t love her so much I would have to kill her. I swallow the last M&M and say,
    ‘ I can’t eat a thing.’
    ‘ Don’t let the bugger put you off your food. He’s the one who’s always nagged you about losing weight isn’t he? Well sod him.’
    She ’s quite right of course, and I do feel a bit peckish. I can’t help wondering if it was my fault. Maybe I did give Ben Newman the come on without realising it. I can’t imagine what I did mind you, unless he finds being totally ignored most of the week a sexual turn on. Perhaps I didn’t meet