“I know, Sarah. I know just what you mean.”

And there it was, James making me feel understood without me having to explain.

I snuffled and looked around for a tissue. James reached for the box next to his side of the bed and handed it to me. Then we each took a handful and cleaned ourselves up.

“James.”

“Sarah.”

“I have one more question.”

“Uh oh,” he teased.

“Whose bathrobe is that?” I pointed to the item in question, which was lying on the floor where James had flung it earlier.

He laughed—heartily this time.

“Why, darling, that would be yours.” I looked at him and my confusion had to be obvious. “Just think of it like the toothbrush you popped into your evening bag.” He was teasing me. “There was a brand new one under the sink for you, by the way.” Make that, seriously teasing me. Not that I minded, not really.

“Right,” I said. “Well then, as it’s mine, where do I hang it up?”

*

“He actually bought you a bathrobe?” Cat really did home in on the most bizarre details.

James had driven me back to Cat’s mid-morning, holding my hand as much as it was possible while navigating the narrow, winding streets of London. When we pulled up, he came around to my side of the car to open the door and to kiss me goodbye properly—that’s what he’d said, “properly”.

Swoon.

I’ll admit, though, even after having the most amazing time with James, I’d been looking forward to talking it through with Cat so I could get her take on things. But after the bathrobe quip, I was beginning to question her ability to debrief properly. I needed my best girlfriend, not an annoying little sister.

“Everything I just told you, and that’s what you get hung up on?”

“I’m not hung up. I’m intrigued. It’s very Pretty Woman.”

“Except the part about me not being a prostitute.”

“Well, yes, obvs. So, are you falling in love with him?” I spat out half a mouthful of tea. So far, this conversation was not going as planned. I was glad it was too early for us to have cracked a bottle of red—much harder to get out of the carpet. Cat jumped up to grab a dishcloth.

“Well, are you?” she persisted.

Was I falling in love with James? The truth was, I didn’t know. I had certainly fallen in lust with him—he was gorgeous by anyone’s standards. I’d thoroughly enjoyed all the sex, and we’d had some interesting conversations, but love? Surely, it was way too soon to be thinking along those lines, especially as half the time I was with him, I felt like an unrefined pretender.

Cat finished cleaning up the tea I’d spat out, then brought a packet of chocolate digestives from the kitchen. She knew me so well. Without thinking, I took a biscuit out of the packet and ate half of it in one bite, chewing pensively as I considered Cat’s question.