I saved the document eighty-five thousand gazillion times, just to be on the safe side, packed myself up, made sure my desk was pristine, and hurried off to meet David.
We’re meeting in a pub that was quirky beyond the point of practicality. Which, of course, meant I was way into it.
It was early enough that it wasn’t yet impossible to squidge in. And having squidged, I finally found David already occupying one of the booths—which were my favourite place to sit, because they made me feel like a ne’er-do-well in a Victorian novel.
“Hi.” I managed to put my shoulder bag down without spilling anything and slid in opposite.
“Niel.”
David was getting some attention—furtive, English attention but attention nonetheless. Partly, I think, because he looked too attractive to be real. But also
