“Ack no. It’s vodka all the way. I’m starving too. Your sister never serves food in human portions. I’d only be full if I were a leprechaun.”

I laugh. “She’s terrible. Especially as she didn’t even cook the fucking meal.”

“A fact I’m very relieved about. I once ate a bite of a cake she’d made. I had to hide the rest of the piece in a plant pot.”

“Poor plant,” I say with feeling.

“It looked like a survivor of Chernobyl after an hour. I don’t want to think what she did while baking.” He smiles at me. “I’ve got a bottle of Absolut Crystal vodka in the freezer. Coming in?”

I whistle. “That costs a fortune.”

“It was a present. I’ve got some caviar to go with it.”

“Oh my God, really? I’m starving.”

He laughs. “It’s like you’re Hansel or Gretel.”

“I’d never have gone for chocolate or sweets.”

“No?”

“I’m a rare man,” I say flippantly as he watches me with those clear brown eyes.

“I think that’s probably more true than you know,” he says before vanishing into his flat, leaving the door open behind him.

I eye the door. I should run away. Back to my flat and the solitude that I’d told myself I needed in order to make some difficult decisions. What is between Mags and me is not anything I recognise, but I can feel that it’s getting stronger even if I can’t put a name to it. I’ve thought about him all week despite not talking to him, and I’ve found myself thinking of things I want to tell him. I sigh loudly before following him in and shutting the door behind me.

Chapter Six

Laurie

I haven’t had a chance to nose around Mags’s flat yet, so when he rushes off to the kitchen, I take my time to walk through the space. The open-plan layout is the same as Luke’s, but that’s where the similarity ends. Mags’s place is scrupulously clean. A huge dining table that could easily seat twelve people sits in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the sparkling lights of London and the River Thames. The whole place screams modern and minimalistic.

Banging comes from behind the counter in the kitchen, so I make my way over to the enormous central island. Shiny cabinets and stainless steel counters gleam elegantly under glowing lights. I peek over to find Mags crouched in front of a cupboard.

“No Aquavit, Mags? I haven’t had that since I was last in Copenhagen.”

He looks up at me, his ash-brown hair falling over those clear, beautiful eyes. Beautiful? Ugh. I want to slap myself.