Evie smiled and folded the note in half, holding it to her chest. Over the last few weeks, Evie couldn’t help but feel she was in her own romantic movie, and she never wanted the credits to roll.

Looking through the sheer curtain separating the bed from the rest of the flat, Evie could just see the outline of Hugo sitting at the little corner desk.

Peeling herself from beneath the covers, she tiptoed over to her bag and slid Hugo’s note inside. She slipped on Hugo’s discarded linen shirt, letting it envelop her. It made her feel dainty and secure: the same way Hugo’s embrace had made her feel just hours earlier.

Evie pushed the curtain aside and made her way over to Hugo. He seemed to be reading back over his work, cutting and pasting bits and pieces and then rereading. Savouring this quiet moment, she let herself imagine which part of the book he might be up to. She hoped it was one of the more romantic scenes, so that she could claim to be his muse.

‘Morning Hugo,’ she whispered in his ear, hugging him from behind.

Startled, Hugo jumped out of her arms, frantically clicking at his mousepad before turning to face her.

He put his hand on his chest. ‘I was deep in thought, I didn’t hear you coming,’ he said.

Evie tried to peer behind Hugo at the computer screen. ‘Can I see?’ she asked, smiling.

Hugo leaned awkwardly to the left, trying to block her view. ‘Oh, it’s not quite there yet,’ he said, alt-tabbing back to his home screen and then closing the laptop firmly. He turned on his chair and put his hands on her hips. ‘So, what does my favourite lady feel like for breakfast?’

She thought for a moment, clearing her mind so she could identify what her body might be craving. Hugo went to open his mouth, but Evie shushed him. ‘Hold on, I’m thinking.’

Hugo reclined back in his chair, looking amused.

‘Okay, I’ve got it,’ Evie said finally, checking the time on the book-shaped desk clock next to Hugo’s laptop. ‘And if we leave right now, we’ll have just enough time!’

‘I’m telling you, this is the best börek you’ll ever taste,’ Evie told Hugo as the man behind the stall handed over two steaming paper bags.

They were standing in the heart of Camden Market, Evie looking slightly dishevelled in her dress from the night before and one of Hugo’s trench coats over the top, while Hugo looked tidy and delicious in jeans and a thick cream knit. The distinctive smell of market spices filled the air, and stall vendors called out in loud voices for people to buy their wares. Men and women dressed in suits and ties hastily bought coffees and pastries before heading to work.