‘It’s half whisky, you’re welcome,’ she whispered, handing it to me before leaving us alone.

I took a deep drink of her Irish coffee. It was more than half whisky.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘Hi,’ Evan said. ‘I got your text.’ He held up his phone as evidence. ‘And I was going to message you back but I was pretty close by and I thought, it’s Christmas, why not stop in and say hi?’

‘How close?’

‘Paris.’

‘Just down the road then,’ I replied and took another glug of coffee.

He was wearing the same grey coat he’d worn the last time I’d seen him and his brown eyes twinkled with the reflection of our tree’s fairy lights. His dark hair was a little longer and he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. There were dark circles under his eyes, and I couldn’t stop myself wondering if he’d been losing sleep for the same reason as me.

‘Hey, did you know everything in this country is completely closed today?’ he asked with a lopsided smile. ‘Even Starbucks.’

‘Well, yes,’ I replied, catching sight of myself in the mirror above the sofa and immediately wishing I could go and get changed or put on some mascara or jump out of a window. ‘It’s Christmas.’

‘It’s not super convenient.’

‘Not if you’re an American billionaire who wants a coffee,’ I agreed. ‘But we normal folk manage for one day. Here.’

I held out the mug and he took it, drank it dry then handed it back without a word.

‘Sheffield is not New York,’ he said with a choked cough, as though that fact might be news to anyone on earth. ‘And by the way, I’m not a billionaire.’

I raised an eyebrow. My online stalking said otherwise.

‘My dad is,’ he corrected.

‘My mistake. You’re still very rich though?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Evan confirmed with a shrug. ‘But don’t let that put you off.’

‘I’ll try,’ I promised weakly.

‘That’s all anyone can ask.’

He gave me a look that somehow made me forget I was wearing jogging bottoms and my pyjama top underneath my coat, and I had to reach out for the doorframe to steady myself.

‘Sounds like I saved you a trip,’ he said, stood right in front of the tree while I hovered in my own doorway. ‘This is the worst time to go to New York. Too many tourists and the weather is terrible, plus the airlines are totally gonna gouge you for flights.’