‘Only a hundred times,’ Hugo said with a laugh, securing his cufflinks. ‘But all I can think of right now is how excited I am for a night out with my beautiful girlfriend. Oh, and to hear Toni Morrison speak!’

‘Toni Morrison’s speaking?’

‘Yes! I know you love her. I thought I’d keep it a surprise.’

My god. I’m about to hear a dead woman speak, Evie thought, pinching herself.

The elevator doors opened like curtains being drawn at a play, revealing a room abuzz with excited chatter and creative energy. Evie squeezed Hugo’s hand as they walked into the open space, which was cast in the shadows of candles and soft hanging light installations. Evie scanned the room, taking in all the important-looking people mingling in groups. She was starting to become less starstruck at these big events, but tonight she couldn’t help but feel somewhat out of place. No matter how hard she tried, Evie couldn’t seem to kick the sense of anxious disappointment she carried. She felt foolish for having put herself out there for the competition; for daring to believe even for a moment that she possessed some kind of unique talent. Not wanting to spoil his evening (especially when his mood was already so tense), Evie still hadn’t shared the news with Hugo—not that he’d asked.

So instead, she focused on the good fortune of being in the same room as one of her idols and favourite writers, Toni Morrison. A truly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, because, well, she was dead.

‘I’ll grab us some drinks,’ Hugo whispered into her ear. He tapped the nearest waiter on the shoulder, who turned around with a dramatic swish of his man bun.

Evie inhaled sharply, her hand falling from Hugo’s grasp.

Oh my god.

She couldn’t believe he was here: Maximilian, the man almost certainly responsible for her very existence in this grand hall. No, shit. No. Not now! It suddenly dawned on Evie that she wasn’t ready for all this, her time-travelling escapade, to be over. There was so much she still wanted to redo in her twenties.

‘Enjoying your evening?’ Maximilian asked.

‘Two champagnes, please,’ Hugo said, dispensing with pleasantries.

Numbly, Evie took the offered glass, terrified of what might happen.

‘Cheers, babe,’ Hugo said, clinking his champagne flute against hers.

Evie forced a smile and took a long drink, all the while aware of Maximilian still looking at them.

Just as Hugo went to lead Evie away, a woman wearing a figure-hugging dress cut in front of Maximilian.

‘Hugo Hearst! The man of the moment. I’m Penelope Oldfield from Auklet New York. I’m so glad you’re here. There are a few people I’d like you to meet,’ she gushed and, without waiting for a response, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

‘Good looking chap,’ Maximilian said to Evie, nodding towards a retreating Hugo.