13

By Monday morning, Amelia had almost convinced herself the entire evening belonged in the same category as unusually vivid dreams. Not because it hadn't happened but because it felt too improbable to fit into ordinary life.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror fastening the final button of a pale green blouse before reaching for her hairbrush. The familiar routine settled around her like a comfortable blanket. Brush her hair. Moisturiser. Mascara. A little concealer beneath her eyes. Lip balm. Nothing more.

She had never been someone who enjoyed spending hours getting ready. Fifteen minutes was usually enough. Twenty today. She frowned at her reflection.

"You are not doing this."

Her reflection offered no argument. With an exasperated sigh, she picked up her handbag, checked she had her keys, phone and purse, then locked the apartment behind her.

Outside, Birmingham was already awake. Buses rumbled through the city centre carrying commuters towards offices they had been travelling to for years. Cyclists weaved confidently through traffic while coffee shops spilled queues onto pavements still damp from overnight rain.

Everything looked exactly as it always had which somehow made Friday evening seem even stranger. By the time Amelia reached the office, she had almost succeeded in pushing Jake from her thoughts. Almost.

"Morning."

She looked up as Sophie from accounts appeared beside the coffee machine carrying an oversized mug decorated with tiny bees.

"Morning."

"You look tired."

"I stayed up too late reading."

It wasn't technically a lie. She had been holding a book. Sophie nodded knowingly.

"I did that yesterday. Started one chapter and somehow it became one in the morning."

"The dangers of a good book."

"The dangers of poor self-control."

They laughed before Sophie wandered back towards her desk. Amelia made herself a coffee and returned to her own workstation. The office gradually filled with the familiar soundtrack of keyboards, telephones and quiet conversations. Nothing dramatic ever happened there, which was exactly why Amelia enjoyed working at Ashford Developments.

She liked order. She liked knowing what tomorrow would probably look like. Most importantly, she liked that everyone treated one another with kindness. By half past nine she was completely absorbed in organising schedules for three separate construction projects. By eleven she had answered twenty-six emails, rearranged two meetings and solved a delivery problem that threatened to delay work at a housing development outside Solihull.

Her mind barely wandered once. She smiled. Perhaps life really was returning to normal. Her phone buzzed. Lucy. Amelia hesitated before opening the message.

Lucy:

Coffee?

Lunch?

Emergency debrief?

Amelia laughed quietly.

Amelia:

I'm working.

Lucy:

People work every day.

This is bigger.

Amelia:

It's really not.

Lucy:

You met Mystery Man.

I require details.

Amelia:

There aren't any more details.

Lucy:

Did you spend all weekend thinking about him?

Amelia stared at the screen then deliberately typed a lie.

Amelia:

No.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Lucy:

Liar.

Amelia rolled her eyes despite smiling.

Lucy:

Lunch.

One o'clock.

No excuses.

Before Amelia could protest, another message arrived.

Lucy:

I've already ordered your favourite sandwich.

Amelia sighed. She knew when she had lost.

Amelia:

Fine.

One o'clock.

Satisfied?

Lucy:

Very.

See you soon.

Amelia slipped the phone back into her drawer. It was impossible to stay irritated with Lucy for long.

At one o'clock exactly she walked the short distance to the café tucked between two office buildings. Lucy was already there, waving enthusiastically from their usual table beside the window.

"You look disappointed."

"I've been waiting nearly four minutes."

"My deepest apologies."

"I'll forgive you."

Lucy pushed a wrapped sandwich across the table.

"I've also bought cake."

"You always buy cake."

"Because cake solves problems."

"I'm fairly sure that's medically inaccurate."

Lucy shrugged.

"It solves enough of mine."

Amelia laughed and settled into her chair. For several minutes they spoke about entirely ordinary things. Work, television, Lucy complaining about a colleague who insisted on reheating fish in the office microwave. Eventually Lucy leaned forwards.

"So."

Amelia smiled.

"So."

"We've reached the point where pretending we aren't going to discuss Tall, Dark and Gorgeous has become silly."

"I wasn't pretending."

"You absolutely were."

Amelia picked up her coffee.

"It was one evening."

"I know."

"I'll never see him again."

"I know."

"So there isn't anything to discuss."

Lucy watched her carefully.

"Then why do you sound disappointed?"

Amelia looked down into her mug.

Because she was.

"I don't know."

Lucy reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"You don't have to feel silly."

"I barely know anything about him."

"You know enough."

"I know his first name."

"You know how he made you feel."

Amelia fell silent. That answer came far too quickly.

Safe.

The same word she had sent Lucy on Friday night and she hadn't found a better one since. Lucy smiled gently.

"I've never heard you describe anyone like that."

"I wasn't describing him."

"No?"

"I was describing the situation."

Lucy raised one eyebrow.

"Weren't you really describing both?"

Amelia opened her mouth but nothing came out. Because perhaps Lucy was right.