of her, he’d exhaled. It was what he had been looking for. Inexplicably, he’d willingly walked away.
Daniel’s face was serious. ‘I agree. I think you’re right. I think I should write to her. I just – I needed you to tell me it was a good idea, that’s all. And you’re telling me it is, so. That’s decided then. I will write, and this time won’t leave her waiting for me. We just have to hope she understands it’s meant for her, is all.’
Romeo offered him a hand to shake.
‘My man. Tell her straight up: We spoke at Secret Cinema the other night, me in a waistcoat and you looking beautiful. I knocked your phone out of your hand, and I’m an idiot for not putting my phone number in it first. You get my train – the 7.30, at Angel. I think we might have written to each other before …’
Daniel nodded along with every word Romeo said.
‘Great,’ he said, still nodding, amazed at how right Romeo seemed to get everything. ‘Yes! Perfect.’
He moved the mouse to his computer and typed in the URL for Missed Connections submissions.
‘Now,’ Daniel said, fingers poised over the keys, ‘repeat what you just said?’
Romeo pulled up a chair and cracked his knuckles. ‘Okay, boss,’ he said. ‘Start with this: We spoke at Secret Cinema …’
43
Nadia
Nadia held her phone in her hand as the bus trundled down to Angel, where she would hop off and get the tube, like she did every day. Her instinct was to text Emma, but Emma was so absent that she didn’t think she could stomach the three-day wait that had eased itself into all communication with her. Instead, she pulled up Instagram to look at the photo Naomi had posted from the night before, ‘liking’ it and leaving three flame emojis underneath as a comment. Nadia screenshotted it, thinking she might post it too. It was right after she’d talked with that gorgeous guy in the waistcoat, and she had the look of trouble in her eye. Good trouble. She looked bright and fresh-faced and fun.
Nadia scrolled through the other photos that had loaded: a friend from school was on vacation with her husband in Sri Lanka. Her cousin’s baby had crawled for the first time. Several Instagrammers had new skirts and shirts and boots and were reminding her that it would soon be Black Friday, so click the link in bio for the full collection and don’t forget to use the discount code!!! She scrolled past them all.
Nadia stopped as she saw Gaby’s latest picture, a close-up of her at Soho House, which was interesting to Nadia because she knew that Gaby didn’t have Soho House membership. Of course, Emma did, and it was Soho House she’d seen them stumble out of that night they’d kissed. If Nadia looked close enough at the photo, a selfie taken in what looked like the bathroom, she could see what had been cropped out: beside where Gaby’s own hair fell was shoulder-length honey-coloured hair – Emma’s.
A million unkind thoughts crept into Nadia’s mind. Logically, rationally, she knew her friends had a secret that of course they’d eventually tell her. But right now she was locked out of the world they were creating, whatever world that was, and mostly Nadia didn’t give two hoots if they were dating or sleeping together or in love – she just wanted her buddies back. She wanted to be part of the gang again. She wanted to be happy for them, but being iced out was costing her her happiness, so it made it really hard to be excited for them. Nadia was angry, and resentful, at being put in this position. They didn’t need her permission to do whatever it was they were doing, that isn’t what she meant. But damn if her two best friends hadn’t come together to form something that meant now she felt left out. And it really wasn’t her place to sit them both down and say what she’d seen. She believed that implicitly. It was no big deal and a total game-changer both at the same time, and not just because they were both women. Her friends were gay – at least for each other. So what! But two friends becoming more meant the dynamics shifted, and it meant that Nadia sat on the 73 bus looking at Instagram and making the very conscious decision to keep on scrolling, without hitting like or commenting, like she would normally