At airport security, Duke is able to loop around the back of the longer economy queues to get to a shorter one for premium customers, but he feels exposed. He wishes he had a baseball cap or something to cover his eyes – maybe he can get one at the other side. He waits in line, pulling out his phone to have something to do with his face, because he can’t see around the corner to the gate. She must be there – no way will she still be in the security line. She’s probably already in the lounge with Magda. He’ll go straight there. Boarding time is in twenty minutes.

Come on, come on, come on, he thinks, careful to smile at the staff, because even if he doesn’t want to be one of the most famous actors in the world anymore, he still intends to be polite for the rest of his days.

‘Are you …’ a forty-something woman says as he walks through the x-ray when it is his turn.

He nods, and says quietly. ‘I am,’ he tells her, and then with a wink adds, ‘But don’t blow my cover.’

‘I loved you in The Marvellous Mrs Maisel,’ she says, and he thanks her, then is free to go. He makes a mad dash for the departure gates, not quite running, but almost. Right before he gets there he slows down, pats down his hair self-consciously.

Duke pushes through the glass double doors, ready for this moment that has been building and building, his blood thumping and his breath shallow and his heart all but singing at its chance to be given away.

But she isn’t there.

He searches the room with his eyes furiously. It’s busy, and people are starting to stare at him, now, one person snapping a photo drawing more attention to him, until a couple of people are taking pictures and blocking his way, and he’s trying to be cool, polite, say Merry Christmas, but really this is stupid. He just needs to see Evie, say what he needs to say before she leaves, and then he knows he has fully tried to shoot his shot.

‘Excuse me,’ he says, picking through the crowds. ‘Pardon me.’