‘We have wrapping paper at the –’

‘Steven told me about this special hand-pressed paper. I want to wrap it in this special paper. Garry, you know the place I mean? We can drop down to SoHo on the way back, yes?’ She waved a hand.

I sat back, faintly despairing. Garry set off, bumping the limo gently over the potholed car park as he headed back to what he considered civilization.

We arrived back at Fifth Avenue at four forty. As Agnes climbed out, I hurried out beside her, clutching the bag with the special paper.

‘Agnes, I – I was wondering … what you said about me leaving early today …’

‘I don’t know whether to wear the Temperley or the Badgley Mischka this evening. What do you think?’

I tried to recall either dress. Failed. I was trying to calculate how long it would take me to get over to Times Square, where Sam was now waiting. ‘The Temperley, I think. Definitely. It’s perfect. Agnes – you remember you said I might be able to leave early today?’

‘But it’s such a dark blue. I’m not sure this blue is a good colour on me. And the shoes that go with it rub on my heel.’

‘We talked last week. Would it be okay? It’s just I really want to see Sam off at the airport.’ I fought to keep the irritation from my voice.

‘Sam?’ She nodded a greeting at Ashok.

‘My boyfriend.’

She considered this. ‘Mm. Okay. Oh, they are going to be so impressed with this drawing. Steven is genius, you know? Actual genius.’

‘So I can go?’

‘Sure.’

My shoulders sagged with relief. If I left in ten minutes I could get the subway south and be with him by five thirty. That would still give us an hour and a bit together. Better than nothing.

The lift doors closed behind us. Agnes opened a compact and checked her lipstick, pouting at her reflection. ‘But maybe just stay until I’m dressed. I need second opinion on this Temperley.’

Agnes changed her outfit four times. I was too late to meet Sam in Midtown, Times Square or anywhere else. Instead I got to JFK fifteen minutes before he had to head through security. I shoved my way past the other passengers to where I could see him standing in front of the departures board, and hurled myself through the airport doors and against his back. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

We held each other for a minute.

‘What happened?’

‘Agnes happened.’

‘Wasn’t she going to let you out early? I thought she was your mate.’

‘She was just obsessed by this artwork thing and it all went … Oh, God, it was maddening.’ I threw my hands into the air. ‘What am I even doing in this stupid job, Sam? She made me wait because she couldn’t work out what dress to wear. At least Will actually needed me.’

He tilted his head and touched his forehead to mine. ‘We had this morning.’

I kissed him, reaching around his neck so that I could place my whole self against him. We stayed there, eyes closed, as the airport moved and swayed around us.

And then my phone rang.

‘I’m ignoring it,’ I said, into his chest.

It continued to ring, insistently.

‘It might be her.’ He held me gently away from him.

I let out a low growl, then pulled my phone from my back pocket and put it to my ear. ‘Agnes?’

‘It’s Josh. I was just calling to see how today went.’

‘Josh! Um … oh. Yes, it was fine. Thank you!’ I turned away slightly, putting my hand up to my other ear. I felt Sam stiffen beside me.

‘So he did the drawing for you?’

‘He did. She’s really happy. Thank you so much for organizing it. Listen, I’m in the middle of something right now, but thank you. It really was incredibly kind of you.’

‘Glad it worked out. Listen, give me a call, yeah? Let’s grab a coffee sometime.’

‘Sure!’ I ended the call to find Sam watching me.

‘Josh,’ he said.

I put the phone back into my pocket.

‘The guy you met at the ball.’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Okay.’

‘He helped me sort this drawing for Agnes today. I was desperate.’

‘So you had his number.’

‘It’s New York. Everyone has everyone’s number.’

He dragged his hand over the top of his head and turned away.

‘It’s nothing. Really.’ I took a step towards him, pulled him by his belt buckle. I could feel the weekend sliding away from me again. ‘Sam … Sam …’

He deflated, put his arms around me. He rested his chin on the top of my head and moved his from side to side. ‘This is …’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I know it is. But I love you and you love me and at least we managed to do a bit of the getting-naked thing. And it was great, wasn’t it? The getting-naked thing?’

‘For, like, five minutes.’

‘Best five minutes of the last four weeks. Five minutes that will keep me going for the next four.’

‘Except it’s seven.’

I slid my hands into his back pockets. ‘Don’t let’s end this badly. Please. I don’t want you to go away angry because of some stupid call from someone who is literally nothing to me.’

His face softened when he held my gaze, as it always did. It was one of the things I loved about him, the way his features, so brutal in repose, melted when he looked at me. ‘I’m not pissed off at you. I’m pissed off at myself. And airline food or burritos or whatever it was. And your woman there who can’t apparently put on a dress by herself.’

‘I’ll be back for Christmas. For a whole week.’

Sam frowned. He took my face in his hands. They were warm and slightly rough. We stood there for a moment, and then we kissed, and some decades later he straightened up and glanced at the board.

‘And now you have to go.’

‘And now I have to go.’

I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat. He kissed me once more, then swung his bag over his shoulder. I stood on the concourse, watching the space where he had been for a full minute after security had swallowed him.

In general, I’m not a moody person. I’m not very good at the whole door-slamming, scowling, eye-rolling thing. But that evening I made my way back to the city, pushed my way through the crowds on the subway platform, elbows out, and scowled like a native. Throughout the journey I found myself checking the time. He’s in the departure lounge. He’ll be boarding. And … he’s gone. The moment his plane was due to take off I felt something sink inside me and my mood darkened even further. I picked up some takeout sushi and walked from the subway station to the Gopniks’ building. When I got to my little room I sat and stared at the container, then at the wall, and knew I couldn’t stay there alone with my thoughts so I knocked on Nathan’s door.

‘C’min!’

Nathan was watching American football, holding a beer. He was wearing a pair of surfer shorts and a T-shirt. He looked up at me expectantly, and with the faintest of delays, in the way people do when they’re letting you know that they’re really locked into something else.

‘Can I eat my dinner in here with you?’

He tore his gaze away from the screen again. ‘Bad day?’

I nodded.

‘Need a hug?’