What it looks like on the night
Picture an ordinary Tuesday. You finish a long day of meetings, she is waiting in the lobby of your hotel near Bond Street with a kiss on the cheek and a question about how it went, and the two of you walk to dinner in no particular hurry. Over the meal she talks about the exhibition she saw at the weekend or the recipe that went wrong on Sunday. Afterwards there is a nightcap and the easy sense that this could have been one evening of many.





