Enjoy the party!

An hour or two later, you’re standing by the stage, where a glassy-eyed band are playing so quietly you have to strain to hear them over the din of conversation. ‘You see?’ you tell Emma. ‘Making friends with the bar guys is easy! And fun.’ You’ve chatted to four waiters, a cute cocktail server and the guy who rigs the sound for the band, all of whom have practically fallen over themselves to talk to Emma.

Emma smiles, cheeks dimpling. ‘Maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong all these years. Trying to make all these L.A. people like me, when really I should just have been flirting with the waiters.’ She bats her eyelashes at you mischievously.

You snort. ‘Flirt all you like, you’re still coming home with me, sweetheart.’

Emma laughs. ‘Of course,’ she murmurs, leaning into your chest. ‘Thanks for making tonight, well… not nearly so awful as I thought it was going to be.’

You squeeze her shoulders protectively. ‘That’s what I’m here for, right?’

Then Emma freezes against you – actually freezes. You can feel her go still, like a small furry creature caught in the headlights of a very big truck.

‘Em?’ You look down at her in concern. ‘Emma, what’s wrong? What is it?’