Perhaps she didn’t lie. Perhaps she was planning to stay in Edinburgh, but her plans changed. I glance at my watch. No, she must have been on the train already when she rang me. She lied, and that one thing, that single small thing, has in a stroke replaced the solid ground beneath me with quicksand.

“That looks healthy.”

Ben. Nobody else has an accent that covers three continents in three words. I look up and find him smiling at me down the shop aisle, dressed in jeans and a casual hoodie and his fingers looped loosely through the handle of a carton of milk. The sleeves are pushed back on his hoodie. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him with those tanned forearms covered. I look back at what I’m holding. Microwaveable chicken tikka masala. “It has no added sugars,” I rally.

“And no nutrients either, I bet. Is this how the Calder sisters live?”

“Carrie’s not a Calder.” I take a breath before that can truly bite and rush on. “And actually, it’s just me tonight, and I couldn’t face cooking, so . . .” I raise the microwave dinner with a rueful smile.

“We can’t have that. Come have dinner with me.”

My eyes leap to his. His sky blue eyes are smiling at me as if what he has suggested is perfectly innocuous. Which it ought to be, but it’s not. I’m sure we both know it’s not. I’m almost sure we both know. “What, now?”

“Why not? It doesn’t sound like you have other plans.”

“No, but—”

“Are you scared I might seduce you?” He waggles his eyebrows so ludicrously that I can’t help but laugh, and once I’m laughing, I can hardly say, Yes, that’s exactly what I’m scared of. Though the thought of a few more hours away from the Manse and some company to take my mind off Carrie’s duplicitous behavior certainly holds an appeal . . . “So?” he prompts, sensing weakness.

“Where would we go?” It’s not a yes, I tell myself. I’m still fact-finding.

“There’s a good Thai place in the next village. Do you like Thai food?”

“Yes—”

“Excellent.” He’s thoroughly pleased with how this is turning out and not in the least bit ashamed of showing it. “Shall we drop your car back at yours and go together in mine?”

“You’re railroading me,” I say plaintively.

“I am. I totally am.” He holds his hand up as if admitting guilt, then grins and reaches for the meal I’m still holding. “Just go with it.”

It turns out it’s remarkably easy to do exactly what he suggests. I relinquish the meal, and he replaces it in the freezer. “Okay, but I’m paying. After all, you paid for both Carrie and me on your birthday.”

“Fine by me.”

“And actually, I’m not in the car. I walked here.”