‘Still,’ I said, as I half-filled a glass with water, ‘I’m supposed to notice these things.’ I wasn’t sure what I was saying. The vodka was making me stupid.

‘Have you worked here long?’

I shrugged, focusing on pouring the water over the whisky, trying to get the proportion exactly right. Some people did it themselves but he hadn’t stopped me. ‘A year or so.’ My hand shook and a dribble of water ran down the outside of the glass. ‘Damn.’

‘It’s okay,’ he said, reaching for it. ‘Thanks.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘Do you enjoy it?’ He looked around. ‘Working here, I mean.’

‘Sometimes,’ I said, not really sure why he was still talking to me. ‘It keeps me sane.’ I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth but when I looked at him he was still smiling.

‘Sanity is good.’

I smiled back, awkwardly, something in my throat—the last of Nic’s martini, acidic and hot. ‘So I’ve heard.’

Tom laughed, and our eyes met. I felt drunk, strange.

‘You right, Cait?’ Nic asked, standing up.

I nodded, blinked, realised I’d been staring.

Tom took a sip of his whisky, put it down and tipped the glass on one edge, studying the liquid inside. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should let you get back to it.’

Nic grinned, and I didn’t know why. I glanced at Tom. Our eyes met again, and for a second he didn’t look away. It felt strange, intense but not uncomfortable. ‘Okay,’ I said, after a pause.

‘Nice to meet you, Kate.’

‘Caitlin,’ I corrected him, not sure why it mattered. ‘Caitie—Cait is fine. Whatever.’

‘Well, Caitlin. It’s nice to put a name to the face.’

I smiled. ‘Enjoy your whisky.’

‘Thanks.’

I went down the back to get stock, and when I came back Tom was sipping his whisky and reading a book. Nic gave me a look and I ignored him, loading the fridges and making another run down the back. The third time I came up Tom was gone, and I pretended not to notice.

‘He’s working early tomorrow,’ Nic explained, as I put away the wine.

‘Who?’ I tried to sound bored.

‘Funny,’ he said. ‘You know.’

‘I don’t.’

Nic sighed. ‘He’s a good guy, Cait. Excellent taste in whisky, single, a doctor.’

I made a face.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Have you met many doctors?’

‘Have you?’

‘One or two,’ I said. Probably more, I thought.

It had been a running joke with Lina at one point. Don’t you ever date anyone normal? she asked once.

They make good money and they’re experts in the human form, I’d replied, scrolling through a dating app on my phone. And they thought I was fun and novel and would amuse their friends, but they’d never ask me to meet their parents. What’s not to love?