Just as I’m checking tomorrow’s forecast on the BBC Weather app for the third time, my apartment buzzer sounds, making me jump. Assuming it’s a delivery person trying random apartment numbers to get access to the building, I ignore it. Someone else will let them in. But moments later the buzzer sounds again. I reluctantly get up and pad across to my apartment door, lifting the receiver for the door entry system.

‘Hello?’

There’s no response.

‘Anyone there?’

Still nothing.

Emitting an exasperated sigh, I return to the sofa, make myself comfortable again and hit play on the remote. The well-loved characters of Ross and Rachel immediately spring to life, playing out one of their many hilarious but flawed romantic encounters. I’m just settling into the episode again when there’s a knock at my apartment door. I quickly grab the remote and pause the episode, joining Ross and Rachel in a real-life freeze frame. I’m not expecting anyone. Not even a delivery. Deciding they must have the wrong apartment, I maintain my statue-like pose, listening for the sound of departing footsteps. But there’s no movement, and seconds later there’s another rap at my door.

Irritated by this intrusion and the fact that I’m having to get up again for no reason, I walk to the door, unlock it and yank it open.

‘I think you’ve got the wrong…’ I tail off in shock as I take in the masculine form standing in front of me. ‘Dom? What are you doing here?’

Chapter 22

‘Surprise.’ Dom grins sheepishly at me, his dark hair soaked from the storm outside, beads of rainwater running down his face.

I stare back at him, utterly bewildered. ‘I’m not sure that’s the appropriate… whatever… Dom, what are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?’

‘Can I tell you inside?’

‘Eh… yeah, I guess so.’ I step back and let him in.

Dom tentatively enters my postage stamp of a hallway and I close the door. The lack of space – and him clearly not wanting to presume that he’s going to be invited in properly – means we end up standing uncomfortably close, to the point that I can feel his breath on my neck as I turn away from the door.

‘Go on through.’ I usher him towards to my kitchen-living room.

‘This is nice.’ He strides into the room more confidently, like an estate agent sizing up the potential for sales commission. ‘It’s compact but has a nice aspect, and a balcony too. You’ve done well for yourself, kitten.’

I flinch at the use of my old pet name.

Realisation dawns on his face. ‘Shit. Sorry. Old habits and all.’

‘It’s fine. Do you want a cup of tea? And a towel?’

‘I’d love a brew, thanks, Lex. Can I at least call you Lex?’

‘Whatever.’ I shrug, this being far from the main thing on my mind.

I bring Dom a towel from my storage cupboard and busy myself making the tea as he lingers by the French windows, inspecting the shared garden beyond.