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‘You got someone waiting outside for you. They’re not on the guest list. I told them you were busy, but they insisted. They said there’s an emergency with your daughter, Solange? Oh, and they said I should give you these.’

Serenity doesn’t seem enthused as she dumps a bouquet of roses the size of my head in my arms before attending to her main charge.

‘You hate red roses.’ Malakai and Aminah’s voices come out in inadvertent harmony, both with curiosity creased into their faces. ‘You like ranunculuses,’ Malakai adds.

They both glance at each other and my face heats in self-consciousness. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced their doubled X-ray power specifically dialled in to my emotional nuances.

‘I don’thatethem, guys. Who hates red roses?’

‘You do.’ Flat bemusement flushes Aminah’s features. ‘You said they’re basic. Now who bought you the Eden flowers? They’re the most expensive florists in London. I know because I wanted them to do my wedding till Kofi saw the quote. He was, like, “Are theyactuallyfrom the Garden of Eden? Is that why they cost that?” And why is this person saying you have a daughter with them called Solange? This bouquet ishefty.’

Someone’s calling Malakai, but either he doesn’t hear them or he pretends not to–his face has assumed a veneer of nonchalance, gently folded into mild interest. ‘Yeah, Kiki, which snake got you a bouquet from Eden?’ and he seems to regret it as soon as it comes out of his mouth. He holds rigid, eyes widening slightly in horror and Aminah looks at him as if he’s grown two heads. ‘That was a joke,’ he adds with a cough. ‘You know. Like a biblical one.’

Aminah rolls her eyes. ‘Girl, anyway–’ she gestures at me to read the note attached and I open it to have my knowledge confirmed. Aminah’s gasp is unnecessarily loud as she peers over my shoulder. ‘Bakari?I thought you guys haven’t spoken in months?’

My skin prickles under the lace of my clothes and Malakai’s eyes sear through me.

‘Jeez, Minah,’ I say. ‘You could at least have pretended not to read the note.’

‘That would have been a waste of everybody’s time and you know it. How did he even know about today?’

I am extremely uncomfortable, and with all the lights and the post-sex tension with Malakai and the fact that I haven’t told Aminah that I had sex with Malakai (including a very recent PPR session) and receiving flowers from my most recent ex in front oftheex, it’s actually possible that I might die of heatstroke.

I cough and put down my coffee to sip from the large purple water bottle I’d put on the table next to us, in order to buy time, but it goes down the wrong pipe and I end up spluttering a little. Aminah pats my back and when I collect myself, unfazed by my near-death experience, they’re still staring at me, awaiting an answer.

I sigh. ‘It’s not a big deal. He texted me a few weeks ago and asked me how I was and I told him. Obviously, this job and the shoot came up. That’s all. He’s just being friendly. We’re, um, pals.’

Laughter falls out with Aminah’s words as scepticism tugs a well-threaded brow upwards. ‘Pals?My dear, have you ever said that word earnestly in your life? Also, you can’t be pals with your ex.’ Aminah catches herself, eyes fluttering wider, and flitting between mine and Malakai’s instantly stiffened faces, ‘I mean you and Malakai can because it’s been years, but you and Bakari? It’s still fresh. I dunno. I think he wants back in. Which isn’t totally a bad thing on the condition that the space has knocked some sense into him. Also do you think he has a contact who could get me a discount at Eden?’

‘All right, you know what? I’m just going to see exactly what he wants,’ I say, head spinning as I carefully place the roses on the table by me.

‘Uh, we’re turning over in fifteen minutes.’ Malakai’s voice is weirdly glacial as he gestures to the flowers. ‘Also, we can’t have these on set.’ I roll my eyes at the fascinating simplicity of the male ego as I pick them back up. ‘Fine. I’ll be back in fourteen minutes.’

‘Twelve, please. We’re gonna need touch-ups.’

‘Yeah true. Because of all the vigorous making out. No problem. Prep the make-up team.’ I beam at Malakai’s gratifyingly irritated expression, and head out of the restaurant, swinging my hips to the sound of Aminah’s laughter.

‘Kiki. . . you look great.’

He’d been leaning against the wall of the restaurant, scrolling on his phone, before standing straight at my appearance, his gaze flicking across me with a smile. He looks good too, in his navy knit beanie, white tee, leather bomber jacket andleather trousers? Bold. I immediately know that his assistant went and researched the best seasonal transition clothes for this year. It suits him, though; he carries it well, the look complementing his high cheekbones and lean frame. He kind of looks like a skinny Lenny Kravitz, if Lenny Kravitz said he didn’t really ‘denote any sensory pleasure from music’, but enjoys it as a ‘technically enjoyable experience’.

‘Thanks, Bakari. You’re looking well too. . .’ I dip my chin down at the roses in my arms. ‘And thanks for these. They’re beautiful.’

It’s true that Bakari and I hadn’t spoken since the night of the engagement party, but when he reached out to me a couple of weeks ago I thought it would be weird to ignore him. There wasn’t any bad blood, there wasn’t good blood, we were bloodless. Like a dead thing. It was polite, friendly, which is why the eight dozen roses have thrown me for a loop. Especially because Aminah and Malakai are right. I fucking hate red roses. I think they’re unoriginal and that theythinkthey’re the bad bitch of the botanical world when really have you seen a deep purple ranunculus bloom? Fluffier, delicate, regal. Malakai always got me a bouquet of them on my birthday–a thought that has no business being in my mind right now when Bakari’s smile is charmingly crooked.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘I wanted to wish you luck with today. They’re the best in the city, and that’s what you deserve.’ He casts his gaze to the bustling restaurant, with crew coming in and out, and the vans parked outside, doubling as green rooms, with hair and make-up spaces. ‘So is this. This is such a cool thing you’re doing here, Kiki. It’s so amazing that you’ve found a transitional thing to do while you’re finding your feet—’

How? How is he always able to do that? Use a compliment to cut hope you didn’t know you had in two?

‘Sure, thanks, um, Bakari, I actually have to get back to work, so is everything OK?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, more than, actually.’ He bounces on the balls of his feet, rubs his hands together. He looksanimated.Bakari rarely does ‘animated’. ‘There’s two things I want to tell you. The first is that our new parent company has acquired SoundSugar. Which means that if you want The Heartbeat back, all you need to do is say the word, and it’s yours. I’ve already had a word with Amelie, and she’s drawn up the contract—’

I choke on air. Is this possibly. . .a romantic gesture from a man who thinks a romantic gesture is letting me sleep on my usual side of his bed every other time I sleep at his, even though my usual side is his usual side?

‘Wait–what? Bakari, this is so. . .I don’t know what to say—’ Which is not just true because of the shock. As much as I have thought about getting The Heartbeat back on principle, I’ve never really thought about what it would mean to have it back in practice.

Bakari looks uncharacteristically nervous. The spring sunlight dances across his face, brightening a latent vulnerability that reminds me of what I liked about him in the first place. ‘Wait. Don’t say anything yet.’