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down the road – half-walking, half-running. It’s as if everything’s conspiring against me to get to
terriers and their ridiculously long leads that seemed to be attempting to trip me up; the traffic getting out of Portsmouth, that saw me getting stuck at every single red
know he’ll tell me that I should have left earlier, but I thought I’d have plenty of time. Even the little kitten heels I’m wearing
fast and you realise that you’re tottering about. I should have worn some killer skyscraper heels – at least they would have given me that sexy long-leg look. I finally arrive
in my stomach. Proof that it must be love. ‘Ah, hello. At last,’ he says as he opens the door. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, reaching up and kissing
