No Strings, No Excuses

Bex Okafor has one rule for moving in with strangers: no mess, no drama, no feelings. Then she meets the man in the top bedroom, who is forty-six, a cardiac surgeon, recently divorced, and living with four twenty-somethings because he genuinely could not think of anywhere else to go. She is not interested. He is not interested. They are both lying. So they write it down. No strings. No feelings. No meeting each other's friends. No questions about the ex-wife. Signed by all five flatmates, on the back of a curry menu, in biro. By the time the ex-wife's sister walks into Bex's housewarming party, the rules are basically confetti. And Bex is standing in her own kitchen, in front of everyone, with a spoon in her hand, deciding whether to admit what she wants. She does not do it gracefully. But she does it.