She nodded, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. She hadn’t realised how much she needed to hear him say it.

‘Nina?’

‘I’m nodding,’ she said and emitted a short, strained laugh. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m glad you’re with your friends.’

‘I haven’t told them. It’s complicated. Jules has been trying for so long and I’ve not had the chance to tell Alice and… I don’t know. It might be weird to. Or to tell her and not tell Jules.’ She was talking herself into knots. How could she explain it all to Flynn?

She thanked him again, clicked off the call and held her phone to her chest.

You have options, she thought. They’d only recently started sleeping together but she’d known Flynn for three years. They were friends. She knew his sister, Luna, a photographer who took photos of La City Pâtisserie for her sometimes; she respected – and mostly agreed with – his political views. He was reliable and trustworthy and kind. He would make a good parent. One day. Or today?

She hadn’t long been back at the apartment when Alice awoke, bouncing into the kitchen suggesting they do something touristy. Alice seemed revitalised after just one night away from the kids. Nina hoped her enthusiasm might be infectious and was happy to be swept along as a tourist for the day. At least it would give her some time to think and they were unlikely to encounter shellfish and champagne at the usual tourist hotspots.

‘I’m in,’ she said. And she thought of Flynn and smiled.

*

Jules

Earlier that morning, Jules had heard Nina and Alice in the kitchen and wondered how long she had until she had to go out and speak to them. She didn’t like to think or feel this way about her friends; she knew the whole purpose of this weekend was for her benefit, but what she would really like to do is remain alone in her room, time stretched as her focus intensified. The thing you had to understand was: she was desperate.

She hadn’t slept. With Paul and her friends asleep, she had had full control of the charger and both her phones. She was £47,000 up after a night of online poker on her ‘extra’ phone (with no chance of Paul seeing her online and trying to call again), and betting on football matches across the world with her ‘work’ phone. It was carefully orchestrated; she’d set alarms to remind her which games were about to start, and she couldn’t afford to stop. She was doing it. She was winning it all back.

She took breaks, of course, just like if she were in the office. That’s what often lets people down, not taking a break, not seeing the bigger picture. She thought again of Paul: this was all part of the bigger picture. Their future together. If she could make enough to clear her debts – £80,000 spread across multiple credit cards and accounts – and recoup the bonus she’d lost on Thursday, another £70,000, she’d be squared up before she got back to London tomorrow. She’d tell Paul everything, even about the debt, and they could start again.