As texts went, it was fairly innocuous, but I was sitting next to James. On my way to his house. Where we were about to have sex.

“Everything all right?” said the handsome man next to me.

“Absolutely,” I said, flashing a completely fake million-watt smile. I put my phone on silent and tucked it away at the bottom of the enormous clutch. I knew Cat would be fine with my sleepover plans, and I certainly wasn’t going to reply to Josh while I was with James.

Having two suitors was hard.

I wished I had Gerry to talk to, or one of my other girlfriends from the boat, Marie or Hannah. They’d all met Josh and James, so I knew they’d understand I was torn in two—except that Marie was definitely “Team Josh”.

I had no idea what team I was on, or if I was on either team. Was there a “Team Sarah”?

James took my hand again and lifted it to his mouth to kiss it. “Good, because we’re here.”

I looked out my window to see an immaculate white terraced house with black trim surrounding two bay windows on each floor and steps up to a glossy black door with tall topiary trees standing sentry either side. It was very “London”. It was also magnificent.

The driver came around to my side of the car and opened the door for me while James got out on his side. By the time I had gathered my wits, there were two men standing on the footpath waiting for me to exit the car. James reached past the driver and like he did at the gallery, took my hand.

I nodded my thanks to the driver and James thanked him by his name, Fergus, which explained the slight brogue of his accent.

James escorted me up the steps and took his keys from his pocket, then opened the front door. It led to a warmly lit entryway with wooden floorboards and a hallstand along one wall. On the opposite wall were two sets of stairs, one going up and one going down. I looked upstairs, but it was dark.

“The bedroom,” he said as he placed his keys on a hook next to the hallstand.

“Oh, lovely,” I replied. Really, Sarah? Buy that thesaurus already.

“This way,” he said, leading the way into the most beautiful, most grown-up living room I had ever seen. A black Eames chair and ottoman took pride of place against one wall and opposite was a long, white couch with just enough throw cushions in various neutral shades to look comfortable, but not too “showroomy”.

“Have a seat. I’ll get us something to drink,” he said, motioning to the couch. Did I mention it was white? Me on a white couch with a beverage was a recipe for disaster. “What would you like?”

“Um …” I hoped I didn’t look as stricken as I felt. My nervousness about the lovemaking had taken a backseat—I’d probably make a clumsy fool of myself and we wouldn’t even get that far. Thankfully, James either didn’t sense my panic or was gentlemanly enough to ignore it.