‘Yeah, totally,’ said Nadia. ‘When this guy ends up being a dud, at least I’ll have my dancing partners.’
‘He is not a dud,’ said Gaby, emphatically. ‘I am willing to stake my full-price Gucci belt on it.’
‘God, I love that belt,’ Nadia said. She’d long wanted one herself. ‘Well, in the meantime … I’m going to write back to Train Guy again. Then I’m not putting all my eggs in one basket. I’m going to meet your guy, and that takes the pressure off Train Guy, who, let’s face it, could still be Quasimodo. Or worse, a Tory. So. That’s sensible, I think.’
‘Babe, there’s no pressure anywhere, at all. This is supposed to be fun! Just have fun with it! And anyway, you’re not even going to want to send an advert to Train Guy once you’ve met my guy. I have a sixth sense about these things. He is absolutely the man for you.’
Gaby glanced at the time on her phone.
‘Okay, shoot, I gotta go. I’m in another meeting in five.’ She gave Nadia a kiss on each cheek. ‘You can name your first child after me, yeah? You and Daniel?’
Nadia rolled her eyes. She loved her friend’s thoughtfulness – and enthusiasm – but she felt a small stab of guilt for the man on the train she’d spent all this time thinking about. It was the right thing to do, though. That’s what they say, isn’t it? Not to put too much weight on the idea of one man too soon? That’s what Emma used to say when she had the dating column, anyway. And not that she would say as much to Gaby, but Gaby really did have a weird ability to nail people’s characters. If she said Mr Cute Bum was also Mr Cute Personality, Nadia should at least put on some lipstick and go meet him. And to increase her odds, she really would reply to Train Guy’s advert as well. She’d read in Emma’s copy of Get Your Guys! that it was wise to spread your hope, so that you felt less pressure and could enjoy each interaction for what it was, instead of what it was in your head.
Back at her desk, then, she pulled up the submissions page for Missed Connections and typed in:
Thanks for leaving me high and dry, Train Guy: I basically proposed marriage and a shared mortgage to a man who would be handsome if he shaved, and it wasn’t you! I wanted it to be you. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re right: I love a grand romantic gesture. Ball is in your court now, friend. Make yourself known. Love, Coffee Spill Girl.
13
Daniel
‘Mate, come on – you’re going to need back-up. I’m a great wingman! You know I’m a great wingman!’
Lorenzo was wafting his buttered toast around as he stood in the kitchen wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He was uninhibited about being half-naked. He was uninhibited about being fully naked, actually. When Daniel had first moved in, he’d found Lorenzo sat stark bollock nude in front of the telly one Saturday afternoon, without even the smallest hint of embarrassment when Daniel passed through to the kitchen. Daniel had put his foot down on having bare skin on any of the furniture after that, which Lorenzo had protested against but ultimately conceded to. If Daniel had ever found a rogue pube on the coffee table he’d have happily strangled his flatmate, quite sure the law would be on his side. How could it not? Shared spaces were not for bare arses.
‘But I’m not going because I actually want to be set up,’ Daniel explained, for the seventh time, as he reached for his keys. ‘I’m going because this woman, this Gaby, was very persuasive, and I don’t want to reflect badly on Michael by being rude. In fact, Michael himself might actually still be able to make it in time, so I already have a wingman.’
He walked towards the front door, checking his reflection in the mirror on his way. Lorenzo followed him. Daniel tried not to think of the crumbs he was making.
‘Isn’t it ruder to go and blow off this girl than to not go at all?’ Lorenzo said, with a full mouth.
‘Don’t say girl. She’s a grown-up. She’s a woman.’
‘Shut up. Girls are … girls. And I’m coming. I’ll come pick you up from work at about six? Okay?’
‘I’ll text you,’ shouted Daniel, as he closed the door behind him.