‘C’mon, I’ve been told I’m an excellent advice-giver.’

‘Well, I guess it’s just that I’m, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.’

‘Oh?’ Hugo stopped chopping, stirring and sauteing and gave her his full attention, his brow knotted. ‘Do you know why?’

Because I’ve travelled back in time to try to win your heart.

‘Oh, just silly stuff. Life is a little bit …’ Ten years in the past, she interjected silently. ‘Much, at the moment. I’ve been given this chance to make things perfect, and there’s just so much pressure not to stuff it up. It’s just getting to me, I guess,’ Evie admitted, surprising herself. It was unlike her to be so candid and vulnerable, especially with a relative stranger. In her previous world, Evie preferred to maintain a safe distance between her heart and those she dated.

‘No, that makes complete sense, Evie. I feel the same way sometimes too. Like with my book. There’s a lot of expectation,’ Hugo said, almost embarrassed.

‘I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.’ Your book is a work of art!

‘Maybe,’ said Hugo. ‘But then there’re my parents too. They’re relentless. Their expectations are enormous. It’s clear they’re sceptical I can make it as a writer. And sometimes I think they’re right. That I should just go back to law. But leaving behind acting, and writing, which I think I love even more, well, it would just be a life half-lived.’

Evie nodded. She’d felt the same pressure from her parents when she left film school to write her screenplay all those years ago.

‘I feel like my parents would only be satisfied if I wrote the next Love in the Time of Cholera, but I’m pretty sure I’m just writing mediocrity that no one is going to want to read. Least of all my parents! So yeah, I understand pressure.’

Hugo looked up at Evie and her heart skipped a beat. His face was so open, his eyes serious. At that moment, he didn’t look like the swanky, celebrity Hugo Hearst. He looked like an insecure man in need of affirmation. In fact, he seemed just like her. Not sure if he was doing the right thing with his work; with his life. Maybe they had even more in common with each other than she thought.

‘Hugo. I’m telling you. I’m sure your book will be anything but mediocre.’

Hugo laughed. ‘And how could you possibly know that?’

‘I don’t know you from a can of beans,’ she lied. ‘But I could tell, from the moment I met you, that you were special,’ Evie said intently.

Hugo stared at her for a moment before abandoning the boiling pasta and veggies simmering on the stove.

‘And you, somehow, seem to be my lucky charm,’ he said, taking her in his arms.

‘I am?’