Getting Matthew in the bath proved weirdly difficult. He didn’t exactly refuse, so much as made about a million excuses and then got very busy around the apartment.
Which, incidentally, was exactly as I’d left it: pristine, gleaming, this space preserved in amber by a ruthless designer and a dedicated cleaning team.
The bath, though, the bath was f*****g amazing. I’d only used the shower before, partially for convenience, but mainly because the bath was so ludicrously vast I was afraid of feeling lonely in it.
Or, y’know, drowning. And being found the next morning—all soggy and blue and floating upside-down, like a baby octopus in a bowl of udon soup—by someone who did not need that in their life.
“You’re missing all the bubbles,” I called out.
Matthew finally appeared in the doorwa
