‘Okay, I need a coffee! You want a basbousa, Jem. On the house,’ Rania said as she headed back to the counter.

‘Yes, please!’ Jemima nodded.

This drama had sent her blood sugars through the floor. Azi stood and kissed Jemima’s forehead. ‘Remember, this is Chance not Miles. Chance – good. Miles – plonker. Got it?’ said Azi.

Jemima nodded. Satisfied, Azi headed through to the back room.

Jemima leaned back into the soft leather cushions. Even Azi could see she had projected Miles’s failings onto Chance. Her history was stuck to her like glue, casting a shadow ahead of her, wherever she went. In some ways, it reminded her of her downstairs neighbour’s toddler, Nia, who’d fallen in love with a local black and white cat. Nia’s mum had named the moggy Sylvester, but unable to pronounce that, Nia always called him Cester. One day, a ginger tom came around and Nia had called out, ‘Cester!’ It wasn’t that Nia had mistaken this cat for her old pal, it was just, to her all cats were Cester. Jemima exhaled. That was what she did with men. Every guy she encountered was Miles, no matter his shape or form, no matter how good a person he was. Could she break out of this self-made trap? Could she disappear that shadow in the cooling shade of a life that included her amazing girlfriends, the career she’d always wanted and maybe, just maybe…

‘Is this seat taken?’

She turned to see Chance. His hair was tussled and that same kind smile was spread across his face just as it had been the day they’d first met. She rose from her seat.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘You looked like you were miles away.’

‘I was but I’m back.’ She smiled, daring to take his hand in hers too.

Wordlessly, he moved closer while she stayed still. The background murmur faded as they looked into each other’s eyes and an electricity crackled around them.

‘So, I’m not sure of the etiquette here but I really want to kiss you. That cool?’ said Chance.

Finally, Jemima moved towards him resting her hand on his face. His stubble was soft, his skin warm. Chance pressed his cheek into her palm and closed his eyes as Jemima leaned in and let her lips meet his. His kiss was like the cool shade she’d been seeking for a long, long time.

A few days later, Jemima watched the sky for ominous clouds, but there were none, just the red and golden shimmers of a beautiful spring sunset. Since the café, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her kiss with Chance. Were kisses meant to be that good? Well, she would soon find out. She smiled, as she arrived nervously at his place for their first official date.

‘Okay, don’t be weirded out, but shut your eyes – and no peeping,’ said Chance, as he opened the door taking her hand in his.