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We were driven through the London traffic, and some time later, we pulled up in front of a beautiful two-story brownstone, in what I was told was Canterbury.

“Relax, darling,” Orlando said as we got out of the car. He paused a moment to take me in his arms, sweeping his hands lightly up and down my back. I tried to force my nerves to calm down, but the butterflies in my stomach wouldn’t listen. I inhaled deeply, taking in Orlando’s scent, which helped a bit, but even his arms around me couldn’t slow my rapidly beating heart. A million fears flowed through my head, no matter how hard I tried to stop them. Would she like me? Would I make the right impression? Would she see me the way my dad saw Orlando, as a fling? What would she think of the article in ‘People’?

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Orlando came out of the bathroom not too long later, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair loose and dripping down his back. I was just putting the food on his plate when he came downstairs into the kitchen.

“Smells good, love,” he said, making himself a tea with the water I’d already boiled in the kettle. He kissed my cheek and went into the dining room.

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