exertion of waiting to see Matt again. My head has ached. I’ve paced around. I’ve checked my phone every five seconds for a text from him. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but I’ve barely survived.
My body has actually been pining for him. I don’t want to sound overdramatic, but he’s crystal meth. In a good way. My physiology has changed. I can never not be with him again.
As I see him emerging from the tube station, I feel such relief and exhilaration I could almost burst into tears…mixed up with a sudden shyness. Because here’s the weird thing: This guy in his black jeans and gray T-shirt isn’t Dutch. He’s Matt. Matt with his driver and his job and his life. And I don’t really know Matt, not yet.
He looks a little trepidatious, too, and we both laugh awkwardly as he nears me.
“Hi! You made it.”
“Good to see you.”
He wraps his arms round me, and as we kiss I close my eyes, remembering the taste and feel of Dutch. For a moment I’m back in Italy, back in the glorious bubble…but as we draw apart, my eyes open and we’re in London again, and I don’t even know if he has a middle name.
“So! Come and meet my…my life, I guess!” I say, trying to sound relaxed as I lead him along the street. “I’m not too far from the tube.”
As I say the words, I have a sudden mad flashback to Sarika’s deal-breaker and imagine Matt replying severely, “Well, as long as it’s not more than ten minutes.”
The very thought makes me want to laugh. It just shows how messed up modern love has become! Deal-breakers are wrong. Deal-breakers are anti-love. If you ask me, deal-breakers are the work of the devil.
Matt has taken my hand and we’re walking in step together, and right now I can only pity all those tragic people who place such weight on artificial factors that have nothing to do with genuine love. I mean, I love Sarika to bits, but no dancers? What kind of rule is that? What if, like, the main guy at the Royal Ballet asked her out? What then?
“Do you believe in deal-breakers?” I can’t help saying aloud as we walk along. “I mean, do you have any?”
“Deal-breakers?” Matt looks startled. “What, you mean—”
“Do I need to worry?” I clarify teasingly. “You know, like, some guys won’t date a girl who’s a smoker, or…” I think a moment. “Drinks instant coffee.”
This is a real one. A few months ago Sarika saw an article saying 53 percent of people would never drink instant coffee or date anyone who did. Whereupon she sent round a WhatsApp to the squad: Urgent!!! Throw out your instant coffee!!! I didn’t have any, but I had some instant carob substitute drink, which I moved to the back of my cupboard, just in case.
But Matt seems perplexed by the idea.
“Jeez,” he says after a moment. “No. That’s not how I think. You can’t define…I’m not wild about smoking, but…You know.” He shrugs. “Everything depends.”
“That’s how I think too,” I say eagerly. “It’s not about deal-breakers. I don’t have any either. I can’t even imagine having any.” We walk on for a few minutes, then I add, “I read up about your family company. It sounds amazing!”
It didn’t take much sleuthing. Googling Matt Warwick brought him up straightaway. Chief operating officer, Warwick Toys Inc. Brands: Harriet’s House, Harriet’s World, Harriet’s Friends.
And of course, once I read the words “Harriet’s House,” I realized. It’s those dollhouses with the thatched roofs. Harriet is the doll with the red hair and the tartan skirt. Loads of my friends had one when I was a kid. I never had the house or the doll, but I had a secondhand pony and a couple of Harriet’s rabbits.
According to the website, there are seventy-six different houses, plus more than two thousand figures and accessories to collect. Which I can believe because one girl at my school had a whole roomful of the stuff. What I didn’t realize was that Harriet’s House is a global phenomenon, according to the website. There are even Harriet’s House theme parks in Dubai and Singapore. Who knew? (Not me, obviously.)
The company is still “proud to be family run,” so I got a good look at Matt’s dad, who is CEO and has his own page on the website. He’s very good-looking—a lot like Matt, just with gray hair and a warm, craggy face. I have