She waits for him to do whatever it is he has to do – presumably he’s already at work, and doesn’t want to talk at his desk. She frowns as she listens to him stand up, the creak of an office chair being rolled from underneath him, the squeak of a door opening and closing. Her gut is an unsettled gurgle, a twisty feeling like everything is pushing upwards and making it harder to breathe.

‘Sorry about that,’ he says. ‘Wanted to slip into a meeting room.’

‘Say what you have to say, Carl,’ Evie instructs, because she needs to get this over with. They aren’t together, so they aren’t officially breaking up, but her cheeks burn hot at the imminent rejection.

‘Eves,’ Carl says, and it’s obvious this is a pre-planned speech. Evie stands at the window to her hotel in stocking feet, watching couples hold hands and families laugh at each other’s jokes down below. ‘You’re amazing. Spending time with you is amazing. And I am very, very fond of you.’

Evie cringes at the word fond, but doesn’t speak. She daren’t.

‘But … I’ve met someone. And she wants what I want. Something more than …’

‘I get it,’ Evie interrupts. ‘Don’t worry.’

I hate this, she thinks. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. This is why she doesn’t do commitment. Because even when she’s only half in, it stings. Imagine the pain if she played to win? Urgh. Not worth it. Not worth it at all.

‘Well,’ Carl says. ‘Just let me—’

‘No, no,’ insists Evie. She’s not going to cry on the line with him. She’s not actually going to let herself cry at all. That’s the whole point of having an arrangement. Precisely because you can’t cry over a thing that wasn’t ever something. ‘You’re fine.’ She makes it come out bright, sing-songy. ‘I appreciate you telling me. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you too.’

‘I wanted to tell you before you left, but then we didn’t get to see each other and—’

‘You’re fine,’ Evie repeats. ‘Honestly. Godspeed. No hard feelings.’

‘Really?’ says Carl, sounding unsure.

‘Really,’ says Evie, forcing herself to smile so the words sound more genuine than she feels. ‘All the best.’

She hangs up, puts her boots back on, and heads down to the staff meeting, the festive Christmas bubble she had not ten minutes ago well and truly burst. Not that she’s going to admit that to anyone, of course. Not even to herself.

4

Duke

The drive from Frankfurt to Würzburg takes just over ninety minutes, the dramatic sky lit up in swirling shades of fuchsia against impending darkness, like ink bleeding out on a party dress.