I put three ciders down on the counter and looked at my docket rack. Empty. I realised I was sweating and puffed, like I’d just been running. I leaned back, trying to catch my breath, gazing out at the dining room for the first time in hours. It was calm, under control, a pristine picture of sophistication. Everyone was eating, drinking, talking, laughing softly. The redheaded waitress from the other night was clearing a table, Emma was running my ciders. Nic was standing at the register, looking as worn out as I was.

‘Okay?’ he asked. He opened it and pulled out a pile of credit card receipts, fingers flicking through them.

‘Always.’

‘That was crazy. You did well.’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Quick close tonight. I have plans.’

I glanced at him. ‘Oh?’

‘Mind out of the gutter, darling.’ He bundled up the credit card receipts and put them back in the drawer.

I laughed. ‘But then yours would be all by itself.’

He closed the register and came around to me. ‘His name is Alex and he’s a photographer and he’s six foot four. Happy now?’

‘Cute?’

He grinned. ‘You have no idea.’

‘Well—’ I smirked ‘—I guess you’ll be helping me stock then?’

‘Ha ha.’

But he did. He made my stock list while I took care of the trickle of orders that came through. We didn’t talk, didn’t really acknowledge each other’s presence, but we moved around each other like we were dancing, a perfectly choreographed ballet of service and cleaning and stocking.

The dockets stopped, and Nic was counting bottles of wine, his face fixed in concentration, so I opened the register and started bundling ten-dollar notes.

‘And what are you doing later?’ he asked, coming up for air.

‘Huh?’ I wrapped an elastic band around a bundle and dropped it back into the drawer. ‘Nothing. Going home.’

‘Nothing?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Holly wants to go out.’

‘Who’s Holly?’

He gave me a look, as though to ask if I was serious. I looked back to let him know I was.

‘Nobody tells me anything around here,’ I complained, half joking. ‘You just take it for granted I’ll figure it all out.’

‘That’s because you always do.’

‘Whatever.’ I shrugged, moving on to the twenties, counting under my breath.

‘Holly,’ Nic explained, ‘is the redhead with the tatts. She’s on a break at the moment.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘How do you not notice these things? Entire people. I swear she’s run most of your drinks tonight.’

‘It’s been busy!’ I protested. Honestly, I had noticed her when she’d come in, but she’d seemed determined not to make eye contact, so I’d left her to it.

‘She’s good, too. Almost as good as you. And nicer.’

I frowned, and it made him laugh.