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I nod. “I’d appreciate that.” Then I turn and put my key in the lock.

“And I’ll leave you the parking space from now on,” Ryan adds.

My hand stills on the key. I don’t particularly want to thank him. Frankly, it’s the least he could do after everything he’s put me through these last few weeks. But it will make my life easier, and anyway, good manners win out. It’s the way I was raised.

“Thank you, Ryan,” I say, meeting his eye.

He gives a quick nod then heads on up the stairs to his flat, taking them two at a time. Penny watches him go, tail still wagging.

“Come on, you,” I say to her. “It’s dinnertime.”

Friday is my late start. Emmy goes in early to do the pre-opening prep, so I get to live—briefly—like a woman of leisure. Well, I say “leisure”. Penny is constitutionally opposed to lying in, so I’m still up at seven to take her out for a pee and give her breakfast. But after that the morning is mine: a long shower, breakfast eaten sitting down like a civilised person, and a proper stroll with my dog before work.

It’s a bright morning. We do our usual loop and end up, as always, at Coorie & Blether, the wee family-run place on Hyndland Road where the air smells of espresso and warm pastry. Penny tries to squeeze inside before I’ve got the door fully open because she knows exactly what happens here.

Jill looks up from behind the counter. “Morning, Briony. Two lattes to go, and a puppuccino for Penny?” She’s already reaching for the cups.

“Hi, Jill. Yep, same as always.”

Jill smiles. “I’ll get Her Ladyship’s sorted first.” She puts whipped cream into a takeaway cup and sets it down. Penny has her nose in it before Jill has fully let go.

While Jill makes the coffees, she tells me her friend was over the moon with the engagement flowers I did last week. I never get tired of hearing that someone loved my work. We’re chatting away when the door opens, and in walks Ryan. Shorts, sleeveless hoodie, sunglasses that probably cost more than my till takes in a day, head bent over his phone.

My stomach gives an unwelcome little jolt.

Not again. I saw him on the stairs just yesterday.

Then again, this is the nearest café to our building. It’s less coincidence and more a matter of geography. This is probably just how things are going to be now. We’re going to bump into each other whether I like it or not. And for the record, I do not like it.

He pulls off the sunglasses then notices me. “Briony.” He nods.

That’s twice now he’s greeted me with a nod and my name. Apparently I’ve been upgraded to a person he says hello to, even when Mrs Dunlop isn’t here for him to perform in front of.

“Ryan,” I say.

I’m still deciding whether his gesture yesterday—giving me the parking space—obliges me to attempt actual conversation when a voice carries across the café. “No way. That’s Ryan Sloan.”

Two men at the window table are already out of their seats. They’re both built like they take the gym extremely seriously.

“Axe King! Any chance of a photo, big man?”

“Aye, nae bother.” Ryan stands between them while one holds his phone out at arm’s length. Ryan strikes a pose—fists up, chin down, the same glower I saw on his social media. Once the photo’s taken, he chats to them for a minute. He’s relaxed around them, and even seems kind of…friendly.

I want to roll my eyes at the whole thing because, of course, I know the real Ryan Sloan. Then I wonder if it’s possible we got off to a bad start and he’s not as bad as I first thought.

No, Briony. Don’t start going easy on him just because he’s being nice to a couple of fans.

The gym lads return to their table, and Penny, having demolished her puppuccino, decides her next order of business is greeting Ryan. She tugs on the lead. Taken by surprise, I stumble after her, and before I know it, we’re standing right in front of him. Oh dear.

Up close, it’s obvious he’s already trained this morning—the collar of his hoodie is damp, his hairline still wet. His arms are bare, and the light catches on a faint sheen of sweat over the hard curve of his biceps. They are, frankly, a lot.

Because my dog has no shame and apparently no objection to a man who hasn’t showered, she starts licking his leg.

“Penny,” I hiss.

But Ryan looks more amused than bothered. He crouches to pat her.

I clear my throat. “Does that happen a lot?”