‘Dammit,’ Ezra said, slamming shut the door of the fridge without taking out the milk he’d been seeking for his tea. His eyes landed on the magnetic quotations he’d put there, and he remembered Edie staring straight at him from a foot away, her hand in his.

Everybody deserves a second chance.

‘Dammit,’ he said again, and walked out of the kitchen. Ezra stalked along his hallway and out of his front door without even pausing to pull it shut behind him. He didn’t stop moving until he was ringing Edie’s bell.

She opened the door, her eyes widening as she saw who it was on her step. ‘Ezra?’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Well—’

‘It won’t take long.’

Edie stepped back and he passed her, taking a few steps to the end of her short hallway, where he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

‘I’m waiting for Gilly,’ Edie said. ‘She—’

‘What would have happened,’ he cut her off, ‘if Rachel hadn’t interrupted us?’

‘What?’ Edie shut the door. ‘I don’t – what do you mean?’

‘The other day, in my kitchen. What would have happened,’ he asked again, softer this time, ‘if it had only been us?’

She turned to look at him and her gaze flickered to his lips, just for a second, then up to meet his eye. The hallway seemed so narrow, suddenly, the air growing thin, as if there wasn’t enough of it to share between them.

‘Edie,’ he said, his heart pounding heavier than an industrial hammer drill. ‘We’ve spent fifteen years at war and neither of us has come close to winning. Maybe it’s time to start over.’

‘Start over?’

‘We can, if we decide to. Try something new.’

He saw her try to breathe, as if to do so was suddenly difficult. ‘Like… what?’

Ezra took two steps towards her and held out his hand. ‘Please. Just come here.’

Edie stared at him and now she didn’t seem to be breathing at all. He thought she was going to turn away, to tell him to leave, to stop being such a damned fool. But instead she raised her hand and slipped it across his palm, her gaze still fastened on his. He closed his fingers over hers, tugging her towards him, until they stood toe to toe. There wasn’t really very far for her to go at all, in the end.

‘Ezra,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t—’

‘It’s all right,’ he whispered back. ‘Neither do I, but Edie—’

He touched his fingers to her jaw. He slipped his hand into her silver hair, leaned down, and kissed her.

Up the hill in the bookshop, Gilly and Ron finished reshelving the pile of books and then stood back to admire their handiwork.

‘Has his nibs gone?’ Ron asked, in a whisper.

‘Yup,’ Gilly said, raising her hand in a high-five gesture. Ron slapped his palm against hers. ‘Perfect. Thanks, Shakespeare, for showing me how to set up daft old people. Turns out you are useful after all! Right, I think we’ve earned ourselves a biscuit.’