‘Ah well, some of us don’t get the choice now, do they!’ Evie said, forgetting herself for a moment.

‘Get it together, Evie. Your boyfriend is in one of his moods.’

Evie followed Liam into the flat, thinking sobering thoughts—grandmas pulling tartan shopping trolleys, world hunger, drinking water that is older than the solar system, sea otters wearing bowler hats.

‘Hey Evie,’ Hugo said, barely looking up from his laptop.

‘What’s gotten into you?’ Evie plopped herself down beside him, pulling him towards her.

‘Pre-release jitters,’ Liam answered on behalf of Hugo, like any good literary agent would. ‘Perfectly normal! Perfectly acceptable! Everybody gets them. Even Jane Austen wasn’t immune to them, and her novels were published anonymously back in the day.’

Hugo let out a frustrated puff of air. ‘Well, I’m hardly Jane Austen.’

‘Hugo, you’re going to be the next big thing! Your book, it’s brilliant,’ Evie told him earnestly.

Hugo turned to face Evie, looking desperately into her eyes. ‘I don’t feel good about this book. I feel like a fraud! It’s … it’s not ready yet.’

Liam tutted. ‘Again, perfectly normal. Creatives never feel done with their craft. Which is just exhausting to have to deal with time after time after time.’

‘Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt ready to share my work! Maybe it is good after all, and I’m just your standard creative, never feeling done,’ Evie said dreamily.

Liam looked Evie up and down, mumbled something about artistic neurosis, then grabbed his coat and went to leave.

‘Liam, please, I want to pull the book. I’m serious.’ Hugo looked pale, almost ashen. His hair was rumpled and Evie noticed his shirt was buttoned incorrectly. Nervous energy was pouring off him. In the past few months, Hugo had been on such a mission to get the book done, but at no point had he seemed worried or as if he resented it.

‘Mate, you’re burnt out,’ Liam said, sitting on the shoulder of the couch. ‘You’re not seeing clearly. Trust me when I say this, your book is a stroke of genius. You need to give this gift to the world. It’s all you.’

Hugo sighed, closing his eyes, and nodded. ‘You’re right. Sorry for the theatrics.’

‘Brill. Now get to bed. And you,’ Liam pointed at Evie, ‘for heaven’s sake, take a shower.’

After Liam left, Evie and Hugo curled up together on the couch, leaning into each other. Evie could feel the weight of Hugo’s despair. The anticipation of next month’s launch was bearing down on him. So she rubbed his back, told him she was so proud of him, and that readers were going to fall in love with his words, as she had already done. He nodded, and Evie convinced herself she didn’t need a giant bowl of crisps to soak up all the booze.