Page 67 of Meet Me in Berlin

‘Later, Jazzy Jaz.’ I end the call, take a deep breath and answer. ‘Hiya.’

‘Hi,’ Eva purrs. ‘When are you coming home?’

A heaviness lodges in my chest. ‘Um … Thursday or something? The opening isn’t until Tuesday night.’

‘Thursday? I wanted us to meet up with the chef on Wednesday night.’

This is it. Ending an almost year-and-a-half relationship from a toilet cubicle in another country. ‘About that,’ I start.

‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Dante’s calling. I’ve been trying to catch them all morning. Have to take this. Talk to you later.’

‘Eva, wait!’

But she’s gone. I stare at the phone, mouth agape, the words I wanted to say hanging in the stale air of the cubicle. I don’t want to talk to her later. I don’t want this day interrupted, because who knows what will happen afterwards? It might be my only chance to enjoy this time with Holly. With guilty fingers, I switch off my phone and head back outside.

Holly looks up from her camera, brightening when she sees me. ‘Thought you’d crawled out the window or something.’

‘Sorry. Was on the phone to my bestie.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. Jaz – Jasmine. We grew up next door to each other.’ I give her a sheepish look. ‘Her last name is Vassell.’

‘Ah, that’s where it comes from. She was your best mate when we met.’ She turns pensive. ‘It was one of the few things you told me about yourself.’

There’s a tiny crack in my heart that she remembers that. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more.’

She gives a rueful shrug and her demeanour shifts. ‘Anyway, nice to know she’s still your best mate.’

‘She’s an amazing friend. I think you’ll get on.’

She breaks into a smile. ‘Does that mean I’m meeting her?’

I give her a soft, lingering kiss. ‘I hope so.’

Chapter 22

Holly, Berlin

Casey stretches out on the grass, and I zoom in on her perfect face. Almond-shaped eyes framed by long black lashes and thick eyebrows, soft, defined cheekbones, a well-proportioned nose, and full pouty lips. Not one mark on her skin apart from a tiny mole on the right side of her upper lip. Her gaze flicks to the camera, and she has that look. I’m not sure it’s even directed at me; it’s just who she is. I hold down the shutter as the camera captures several shots.

‘When you said you wanted some photos, I didn’t think you meant of me,’ she says.

I drop down onto the grass beside her. ‘The camera loves you.’

‘I think it might love you, too.’ She takes it from me. ‘May I?’

I shrug and rest back on my palms, lifting my face to the early afternoon sun.

She kneels in front of me and clicks. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

I pull her to me. ‘You’d say that to anyone who gave you orgasms all night.’

She grins. ‘Fair point.’

I shuffle closer and retrieve the camera. ‘Can I take one of us?’

‘Sure.’

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