Unexpected Visitor

After your shopping spree, you guide Clara toward a charming bistro with outdoor seating nestled between the boutiques. La Petite Maison gleams in the early afternoon sunlight, its white tablecloths fluttering in the gentle breeze. A waiter seats you at a corner table partially shaded by a striped awning.

"To new beginnings," Clara says, raising her water glass in a mock toast, her eyes dancing with private amusement. "And successful shopping expeditions."

You clink glasses, enjoying the normalcy of the moment after days of chaos. The waiter returns with menus, and you're both deliberating between the croque monsieur and the niçoise salad when a familiar voice cuts through the ambient chatter.

"Clara?"

You glance up to see Zara—Clara's assistant from Harrington Global—approaching your table. She's dressed in a fitted charcoal pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, brown eyes widening as she registers your presence. You feel a momentary surge of panic; Zara knows Mia, not Matt.

"I thought that was you!" Zara continues, stopping at your table. Her gaze shifts from Clara to you, confusion evident in the slight furrow of her brow. "Sorry to interrupt your lunch..."

"Zara, hi," Clara says smoothly, though you detect a slight tension in her voice. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I live just down the street," Zara explains, still glancing between you both. She's clearly trying to place you, her head tilting slightly as if viewing you from a different angle might trigger recognition.

"This is Matt," Clara says, gesturing toward you. "David's flatmate."

"Oh!" Zara's expression clears somewhat. "Mia's..." she trails off, clearly unsure of the connection.

"Friend," you supply, extending your hand. "Nice to meet you, Zara. Clara's mentioned you."

Zara shakes your hand, her grip firm but her expression still puzzled. "Funny, you remind me of someone. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Mia? Same eyes, maybe?"

Your heart hammers against your ribs, but years of creative explanations as Matt—and perhaps some lingering confidence from your time as Mia—kick in.

"We're actually distant cousins," you improvise. "Irish side of the family. Strong genes."

"That explains it!" Zara says, seeming satisfied with this explanation. "Speaking of Mia, I thought she'd be with you today, Clara. After yesterday's..." she clears her throat meaningfully, "...meeting."

Clara's cheeks flush slightly, but she recovers admirably. "Mia had to fly back to Dublin unexpectedly. Family emergency."

"Oh no," Zara's expression shifts to concern. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"She'll be fine," Clara assures her. "Just needed to handle some things in person."

"Well, tell her I said hello when you speak to her," Zara says, already stepping back from the table. "I should let you two enjoy your lunch. Clara, see you tomorrow?"

"Bright and early," Clara confirms with a professional smile.

As Zara walks away, you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Clara reaches across the table to squeeze your hand.

"Distant cousins?" she whispers, barely suppressing a laugh.

"It was the first thing that came to mind!" you defend yourself, grinning despite the momentary panic. "What was I supposed to say? 'Actually, I was Mia until about twelve hours ago when I transformed back into Matt'?"

"Fair point," Clara concedes, taking a sip of her water. "Though now we'll need to keep our stories straight. Dublin emergency, cousins..."

"We make a good team," you observe, turning your hand to intertwine your fingers with hers.

"We do," she agrees, her eyes softening. "Now, about that croque monsieur..."

14:15 | Tuesday 5 August 2025 | La Petite Maison, Highgate Village