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He hesitates, his eyes narrowed as he assesses the situation, but eventually he smiles, waves, and climbs back in the car and drives off.

Then it’s just me and Nick – whose very presence is a starting gun for my heart.

AndI’ve been cryinganddrinking. I must look like hammered shit. I run my ring fingers under my eyes, then lick my lips – as good a fix for my messy state as it’s gonna get. I face Nick, forcing my feet to move towards him, and he comes down the steps to meet me.

He’s so tall. I’d forgotten how much taller he is than me – I’mtinyin comparison.

‘Hi,’ he says, his eyes searching mine.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, instantly wishing I could start again.

He laughs uneasily. ‘Okay.’

‘Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was, “Hi, what are you doing here?” See, the “hi” part softens the line, so it’s not so abrupt.’

His lips twitch, and I give myself a mental high-five for some first-class banter when my insides are being blended on high.

‘Ah, yes, the qualifying greeting,’ he replies, playing along. ‘Definitely softens the blow.’

Nope – can’t do it. ‘But, really, why are you here?’ I ask in a hoarse whisper.

He takes in a deep breath – girding his loins maybe, but for battle or laying his heart bare? Doesn’t really matter – both are scary as hell.

‘Could we maybe…’ He gestures over his shoulder. ‘…go inside?’

I usually keep my apartment clean and tidy, but Imayhave been a bit of a slob since I got home – tossing laundry onto the floor, leaving empty takeout containers on the coffee table… I haven’t even unpacked.

‘On one condition,’ I say.

‘Sure.’

‘You don’t judge me for how messy it is.’

His lips part in surprise. ‘That’s not what I thought you were going to say.’

‘Whatwasmy line then?’ I ask, back to bantering – notgreatbanter, but even so.

‘Something about keeping my distance.’

‘Oh – well, that too,’ I say, passing him and fishing my key out of my purse.

It’s a good reminder that self-preservation is fundamental when you let the guy who curls your toes, feeds your brain,andmakes your heart twang into your apartment at 9p.m. on a Tuesday.

I open the door to the foyer and Nick follows me inside, then we walk upstairs to the second floor.

‘By the way, your neighbours areverysecurity conscious – no one would let me into the building.’

I stop on the landing and throw him a pointed look. ‘Uh, yeah, I would hope not. And on that, how did you get my address?’

‘Vittorio.’

I blink at him. ‘Vittorio? Seriously? I don’t think he’s supposed to give out personal information like that.’

‘Oh, he’sdefinitelynot, but he took pity on me.’

‘Huh,’ I reply, continuing upstairs.

That must mean Nick had to plead his case to Vittorio, andthatmeans he really,reallywanted to see me. There’s also the whole crossed-an-ocean-to-be-here thing.