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“Close to tears, more like. You okay?”

The coffee is excellent, as always. I decide to prevaricate. He doesn’t want to hear my ridiculous first-world problems. I should keep his weird perfect world separate from my own real world with real struggles.

“It’s nothing,” I say.

He sits on the bed. “Go on.”

I chuckle. “Really,” I say. “I’m fine.”

“There’s a red flag right there,” he says. “I know for certain that when a woman says ‘I’m fine,’ it means the opposite.”

I sigh. I feel pathetic.

He rubs my leg, which is still snug under the duvet. “Was last night too much?”

“No!” I reply. “Last night was fucking amazing.”

Four more nights won’t be enough.

Alistair narrows his eyes, trying to figure me out. “Give me a sec,” he says, pulling out his phone. He speed-dials someone.

“Are you ordering me doughnuts?” I whisper. Doughnuts always cheer me up.

“That’s going to be my second call,” he says, winking.

“Gaz,” he says. “Cancel everything today. I won’t be coming in.”

I blush. “No, don’t cancel your day!” I mouth. “I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not,” he mouths back.

“Thanks, Gaz. See you tomorrow. Yeah, I know. Cheers.”

Alistair looks at me. “What kind of doughnuts do you like?”

I laugh out loud. He’s so wonderful.

“Are you a narcissist?” I ask.

“Er,” he says. “Don’t think so? Not sure. Why?”

“It feels like you’re love-bombing me.”

“And that’s a … bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he says, running his fingers through his perfect hair. “You’re going to have to explain this to me like I’m seven.”

“You’re being too nice.”

“So you don’t want doughnuts?”

“I very much want doughnuts,” I reply.

“But you don’t want … my doughnuts?”

“I want your doughnuts more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else’s doughnuts.”

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