She leaned across my keyboard and started tapping away. I sat back in my chair and moved slightly. “Here,” she said. “Try this website. If I were you, I’d start with a sprint, and see how you get on.”

“Wow, fifteen miles is a sprint?” It sounded more and more brutal.

She clicked on several menus and scrolled through the site, pulling up a spreadsheet. “Start with a training plan, but don’t be afraid to change the one you come up with. The first time you don’t really know left from right. You’re a big guy, and you look fit, but . . .” A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she moved away from the keyboard, but continued to stare at the screen. “But you don’t know how your body’s going to react. I could take a look at your plan if you want me to. Perhaps give you some ideas of where to train.”

“That would be great, thanks,” I said through a grin. “It would be good to have someone to talk this shit through with. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Okay, well, email me your plan when you have it, and I’ll take a look. We could go for coffee sometime and look over it.” She shrugged “But I’m sure you’ll be—”

“Let’s grab some time on Friday maybe?” Putting a triathlete in front of me was like the universe telling me I was on the right track. What had been a vague idea thirty minutes ago was firming up to be a realistic proposition. Having someone help me get started was just what I needed.

“After work?” I had back-to-back meetings on Friday.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Fiona grinned and began to head off. Before she got to the door, she froze.

“You came to talk about the Nigelson, case, didn’t you?” I laughed.

She slapped her forehead and spun to face me. “I did. I came to drop this off,” she said, handing me the bunch of papers tucked under her arm. “It’s the environmental report you asked for. I’ve emailed you my analysis, but thought you might want to see the original.”

“Thanks, that’s great. I thought it would take longer.” She managed to get through work like a machine.

“Oh, I had some free time, so I got to it sooner than I expected.” She smiled and turned to leave. “See you Friday.”

Finally, things were coming together. The flat. The triathlon. Even catching up with Adam. I was getting on with my life, just as Ashleigh had wanted me to. But I couldn’t help thinking everything would feel a little better if she were here to share it.

Ashleigh

Richard suggested a quick bite before the play, and I couldn’t see a reason to say no. It would be good to have a distraction. At least I’d managed to get a seat on the bus. I had my book in my bag, but I couldn’t bring myself to read at the moment. Everything on my e-reader was about couples bound to have a happily ever after. I was too concerned about whether or not I was going to get mine to read about anyone else’s. As usual, I was lost in thoughts of Luke.

When would I see him again? Haven had cancelled Sunday night dinner, making up some crazy excuse about her hairdresser. I knew she’d intended to give Luke and me a little breathing space, and I was grateful, but I missed him so much.

Haven had mentioned he’d moved, and I wanted to hear every last detail. Hell, I wanted to see the place for myself. I didn’t want to miss another Sunday dinner together. It wasn’t that I’d changed my mind. More that I still wanted to be his friend, have a presence in his life while he decided what he wanted. Because, if he didn’t want me, I needed to know we were still going to be friends, still be part of each other’s worlds.

The bus stopped, and I watched as people filed off, creating room for those queuing at the front. I managed to scramble out just before the doors shut. I’d zoned out and not taken in that I’d reached my destination. I really shouldn’t be responsible for people’s healthcare needs at the moment—I could barely get off a bus at the right time. Thankfully, the restaurant was just a few yards away from the stop. I checked my watch. I was only ten minutes late.

I spotted Richard immediately, and relaxed as he smiled and waved. I handed my coat to the hostess.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I said as I neared the table.

“No worries.” He stood and kissed me on the cheek. “I ordered some wine. Is that okay?”

“There’s never going to be a time in my life when I say no to wine, just for the record.”

“Maybe when you get stuck in your MBA. You won’t be able spend all your free time buzzed. How’s the application going?”

It was a surprise that he asked me. He hadn’t seemed very interested when we were dating. “Good. I sit the entrance exam in a month and start in January if I get in.”

“I’m sure you will. You’re clever. They’d be lucky to have you apply.”

His response was far from what I’d expected. I raised my eyebrows.

“You are,” he said. “All the doctors say so.”

“They do? You talk about me? Us?”

“Of course we do. Are you telling me you don’t talk about us?”

“Nurses are far too busy and professional. Doctors,” I said, swirling my index finger in his direction, “are clearly a bunch of underemployed gossips.”

Richard chuckled. “Well I don’t know about the underemployed thing, but I’ll cop to the gossip bit. And actually the blokes are much worse than the women.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What?” He held his hands up.

“You say that like it’s a total shock that men are just as gossipy as women. You’re a nice guy, but sometimes I want to slap you about the head.”

“Why? I was being nice and saying that women aren’t the gossips you might expect.”

I started to laugh. “Holy crap. I despair. And you don’t see that by doing that you’re reinforcing the stereotype? It’s not a compliment.”

He stopped suddenly, as if I’d pressed pause, his hand hovering over his wineglass. He blinked once, twice and pursed his lips. “Jesus, you’re right. Fuck. You see. I said you were clever.”

“I know I’m clever, but thank you.” I grinned.

“Have I done that stuff before, you know, like when we were dating?” His eyes were the size of saucers, as if I were Galileo telling him the earth moved round the sun.

I shrugged. “Maybe. Once or twice.”

“God, I’m sorry.” I’d forgotten he could be funny. My life would be a lot easier if I’d have just been able to fall in love with him.

“It’s fine, but now that we’re friends, I’m calling you out on that shit.”

“Excellent,” he said, slapping his hand on the table. “Like my dating coach. Making me better for the next one, whoever that might be.” He tried to hold my stare, but I looked away. It was my own fault if he made a pass at me. I’d agreed to go out with him again, after all. Even if we’d been clear we were just friends.

I laughed to break the tension. “Maybe. Now pour me some more wine.”

“If you start snoring in the theater, I’m going to pretend I’m not with you.”

“I can live with that. Besides, I’m not concerned. Bradley Cooper can normally hold my attention.” I gave him a smile and picked up my menu.

Two weeks later, I shuffled back and forth on my barstool, then hopped off and started fiddling with it.

“You can’t adjust the height. Here, drink this, you’ll feel better,” Haven said, setting a full glass in front of me on the breakfast bar.

I retook my seat and gulped down half my wine. My heart pulsed in my chest, and I kept rubbing my hands up and down my jeans to wipe the sheen of sweat from them. I’d never been nervous about seeing Luke before. What if he looked at me and anything he’d felt for me had fallen away? What if he saw me and realized he didn’t find me attractive? I mean, he’d spent years not wanting me—it would be easy for him to shut those feelings off, wouldn’t it?