‘You’re really good at this, you know?’ Ben said suddenly.

‘Oh, thanks, Benny. I think I’m just my best self around you,’ Evie replied, then froze, feeling weirdly guilty for paying him—instead of Hugo—such an intimate compliment.

‘Please, Berry, if there’s anybody who doesn’t need a man to bring out the best in them, it’s you,’ said Ben, looking at her with a respectful earnestness.

A flurry of panicked thoughts rushed through Evie’s mind. She and Ben had a deeply collaborative relationship and bounced off each other so well. They got each other, took the piss out of one another, and their strengths and weaknesses complemented the other’s. There was no doubt Ben was creative and had amazing ideas, but he was also logical, organised and saw things through to their conclusion. He’d make a great producer. Evie was a good writer, but she could be scatterbrained and prone to abandoning projects halfway through.

Her thoughts turned to Hugo. Naturally, he had to be focused on his own work given the pressure of expectations and deadlines he was under. But rather than working collaboratively today, Hugo’s panic had taken over. Instead of working in tandem with her, Evie had found herself revising things separately and even writing huge slabs of material. Then again, she thought, people just had different styles of relationships.

‘Well, if there’s one thing I need a man to do for me, it’s to cook me a delicious dinner,’ she said finally. ‘Are you going to finish that cheesecake or do you think it’s better I get a fresh piece?’

Holding her eye with a steady gaze, Ben said, ‘What’s mine is yours, Evie. You know that.’

Evie felt flustered for a second before regaining her composure. ‘You’re too bloody good to me, Ben.’

Ben smiled warmly, making everything feel right again.

After Evie’s train jerked to a stop at her platform, she stepped onto the escalator and re-joined the world above. The walk from the station to her Notting Hill home wasn’t far, but it was her favourite part of the journey.

Pausing to rummage around in her bag for her headphones, she was suddenly jolted forward by a woman with dusty blonde hair, who stopped and turned around, apologising profusely.

‘No worries,’ Evie told the woman, who looked slightly older than her.

The woman hurried on, looking distracted. Evie dived back into her handbag, finally finding her headset and vowing to clean out her disgusting bag. She put her favourite playlist on shuffle, smiling as Rihanna’s ‘Love the Way You Lie’ came on.

Rounding the corner, she spotted the same blonde woman standing by the road, her head buried in her phone.

‘No wonder you barged into me,’ Evie whispered under her breath, tutting like her mother used to do when Evie walked her muddy shoes through the house.