← Back
“I think I’m falling for you,” I said.
I watched it land. Something closed in her face, very gently, like a door being pulled to so it doesn’t bang.
“That’s lovely, Graham,” she said, and kissed my cheek, and got out of bed.
She dressed without hurrying. Green dress, heels, pins back into her hair. She was kind about it. She said it happens. She said the extra hours make it feel real, and that it was real, in its way, and that I should go home and find someone who could give me the rest of it.
“Can I see you again?”
“You can book me again,” she said at the door. “That’s different.”
I booked her the following month, when I came back up for the contract signing. The agency said Vivienne was unavailable. I tried the month after. Unavailable. I sent a careful, embarrassing message through the website and got a polite automated reply.
In March I walked past a little gallery in Leith and saw a poster for an exhibition. Isla Rennie, paintings. I stood outside for ten minutes like a teenager.
I didn’t go in. Some rules, I’d finally understood, weren’t hers to break. They were mine to respect.
I still have the hotel receipt for the chips. It’s in a drawer. I don’t know why.
Ending 2 of 16: Ghosted. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.