‘Yep.’ I deliberately waited for his head to snap around, in time to catch my smile, before I went back to typing my message. ‘I don’t really fancy the commitment of a series either,’ I said, staring at my screen. Because unlike Rowan, I wasn’t ready to be a liar.

‘Who?’ he asked, and I thought it might have been the first time all night that I’d had his full attention. ‘Anyone I know?

It seemed a strange question. ‘I mean, I’m not about to date one of your friends or colleagues.’ I tried to sound jovial. The lie by omission was back in the room, though, and I was quickly trying to weigh up the possibilities for how the rest of our talk might play out from here. It’ll be your call, I thought then, it’ll be your call and let the chips fall where they may. ‘Someone I met at a work thing,’ I said, glancing down at another message. ‘Fred.’

‘I see.’ I heard the click of the remote and then the opening hum of the Brooklyn 99 theme tune. ‘This okay?’

And that was the only question he asked for the rest of the night.

Chapter 22

I stayed on FaceTime with Faith for as long as it took for me to get ready. When I left the flat, we swapped to voice call instead.

‘You look amazing, you are amazing, this will be amazing,’ she said, with the conviction of an experienced yogi master chanting an affirmation. ‘What do you need? Animal pictures? Wait, I must have something cute on my camera roll now … Oh, I’ve got a text from Lily.’ She let out a curt laugh. ‘She wants to know why you FaceTimed me and not her.’

‘Tell her it’s nothing personal.’

‘I’ll tell her it’s because she’s straight,’ she said, and I could already hear the taps of the message.

‘She’ll hate that.’

Another laugh. ‘I know.’ There was a long pause while Faith finished typing. ‘Sent. Now, do we have a code in place?’

‘For what?’

‘For if Fred the model isn’t all that good on a date and you want out.’

‘Faith, out of me and Fred, I find it hard to believe … Ah shit, shit I’m here and she’s inside. I can see her.’ I came to a stop outside the bistro where we’d agreed to meet. It was an early dinner after all, because of what turned out to be a lengthy work commitment for Fred, and Green’s dining area was a sparse enough landscape for her to stick out a mile. Her hair was styled into what I thought must be her trademark messy bun, and she was wearing a button-up shirt-dress in dark denim. I wondered whether that was a practical outfit, something easy to take off for later. Oh, Christ alive … I swallowed hard at the thought. ‘She looks amazing.’