“Uh, Sez?” I blinked at her, feeling the crease between my eyebrows deepening. “What’s wrong?”

I pointed at the phone and she came over and read James’s message. “The silver fox?” she asked. I nodded and started chewing on my thumbnail, something I’d never done before in my entire life.

“Well, great. You get to see him today.” I nodded again. “So, what’s going on? Are you all right?” She looked really concerned, which made me even more freaked out. “Sarah, you’re going out with him, right? You said you wanted to see him again.”

I re-read the message, and it dawned on me why I was so rattled.

“Cat, what if he realises I’m just a silly schoolteacher from Australia, that I’m—” I stopped.

I’m what? Nothing special? No, worse. What if he realises that I’m not the kind of woman who dates the handsome silver fox she met while sailing around the Greek Islands?

Cat was obviously waiting for me to finish my thought. “What if he realises, I’m just me?” I steeled myself for the inevitable sisterly dig. Instead, she put her little arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze.

“If he realises that, then he is a very lucky man, because you are wonderful.” She let go of me and rooted around in the catch-all on the counter for her keys. “Go on the date. Let him spoil you. Have fun.”

“But …” I trailed off.

“But what?” I saw her glance at the clock. She needed to go.

“Nothing. You’re right. I’ll text him back.” She looked relieved.

“All right, I’m off. Have a fantastic time with your billionaire boyfriend.” She kissed my cheek as I started to protest that he was neither a billionaire—just a millionaire—nor my boyfriend, but she ignored me and called out, “Bye-eee,” over her shoulder as she walked down the hall and out the door.

I was on my own once more with my wretched, worrisome thoughts. What I was going to say was, “But, what about Josh?” And what about Josh? Sure, I had plans to see him in December, but I could still meet up with James, right?

Right?

I chewed on my thumbnail again. I was really going to have to stop that. I picked up my phone— now up to a whopping 20% battery—and typed out my response, asking him to pick me up at eleven. That would give me plenty of time to wash my boat-filthy clothes and do something about my zombie face. I added Cat’s address and sent the text.

Moments later, he replied.

Perfect. I know a lovely spot for lunch and afterwards I’ll take you to one of my favourite places in London. See you soon! Jx

So, it was happening, a date with the silver fox. Then it occurred to me—what do you wear to have lunch with a millionaire?

I did a mental inventory of my backpack, but boating clothes and bikinis would hardly do, and eleven o’clock was only three hours away. What on earth had I been thinking? I wasn’t going to have time to wash clothes, fix my face, and find something suitable to wear!