“Money?” he says with a tone of surprise, pausing and watching me.

“He thinks I’m loaded because I’m always in the papers … with you. Probably thinks we’re in love.” I laugh at this little fact, but Jake doesn’t laugh; he just goes on watching me and sipping from his own mug, before looking lost in thought. I can smell coffee and guess he’s not drunk at all.

“Why are you chewing your lip like that?” I ask him, reaching up and prodding him gently in the dimple again. Jake has a touchable face. I’ve never noticed before how much his face cries out to be touched; there’s a beauty...