“It’s horrible, I’m running down the aisle, holding my dress, which is really heavy, which it wasn’t—it’s light as a feather—and I just can’t gain speed. It’s like I’m running through treacle or something. And then my heel gets stuck, in a weird grate on the carpet, you know, like a vent or something, but I can’t really see it because of the dress.”

“Then what happens?” Brendon asked, setting Gucci down then also taking a cup of tea.

“I’m pulling my foot, trying to get my shoe off, but I can’t. It’s stuck on and the shoe is stuck too. I imagine all these horrid Devil hands gripping me, holding me down, like it’s the bodies from the graveyard outside reaching upwards for me.”

“Ick.” Georgie gave a shudder. “You poor thing.”

“I know, horrible right?”

“So in your dream you’re stuck inside the church?” Brendon asked. “And you can’t get out.”

“Yes, that’s it. And Dylan is coming to get me. Then I wake up, my heart is thumping, I’m sweating, and it takes me a minute to realise that it’s only a dream.”

“So you’ve had this more than once?” Georgie asked, looking worried.

“Yes, several times.” Megan sipped her tea and shivered. “Nasty, makes me not want to go to sleep. Well, alone anyway.”

“So don’t.” A slow smile spread across Brendon’s face. “Go to bed with James Carter. Damn, a night with him would chase away my demons. Oh yes, they’d be running for the hills.”

“I’m not going to jump into bed on a first date.”

“Sweetpea, sometimes needs must. No one would think badly of you.”

“Well I would think badly of me,” Megan said. Damn it. She probably should tell her friends about meeting James at Frank’s the night before and the scuffle on her office desk. But something held her back.

Was she ashamed? Embarrassed by her skittish behaviour? The sudden lack in confidence?

It all added up to an incident she wanted to put in the past. Lay to rest. Tonight was a new start for her and James, one she hadn’t thought she’d be lucky enough to have, so she was going to make the most of it.

“So what are you wearing, for your hot date with Hot Guy?” Georgie asked.

“Not sure yet.”

“I wonder where an award-winning director takes his lady friends.” Brendon shrugged.

“An Italian restaurant. He asked me what food I liked.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t order spaghetti, darling,” Brendon said with a dramatic sigh. “That’s first date rule number one. You might think that scene from Lady and the Tramp is cute, but it really isn’t when you’re a twenty-eight-year-old woman. You’ll just look a mess.”