By eleven-thirty, I was in love. Well, maybe in lust. And maybe my perception was slightly clouded by ridiculously expensive red wine and a glass of brandy.

Lee had met me in the town centre at eight, and when he arrived he looked even less like a doorman, despite the fact that he was wearing a suit again. This one was beautifully cut, the jacket straining just slightly across the biceps, a dark shirt underneath. His short blond hair was still slightly damp. He kissed my cheek and offered me his arm.

As we waited for our meal, he talked about fate. He took my hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, lightly, explaining how he nearly never got to meet me; how the weekend before Hallowe’en was supposed to have been his last time working at the River; how he’d only agreed to work the extra shifts to help out the owner, who was a good friend.

‘I might never have met you,’ he said.

‘Well, you did,’ I said, ‘and here we are.’ I raised my wine glass to him and sipped a toast to the future, to what lay ahead.

Much later, we left the restaurant and walked into the icy air. A brisk wind was blowing by the time we got to the taxi rank in Penny Street. Lee took off his suit jacket and slipped it over my shoulders. It smelled warm and faintly of him, that cologne he wore. I slotted my arms into the sleeves and felt the silk lining against my bare skin, the warmth of him, and how small and safe I felt inside the space of it. Despite it, my teeth chattered.

‘Come here, you’re shivering,’ he said, and pulled me to him, rubbing my back and arms gently. My head, heavy with wine and too many late nights, nestled into his shoulder. I could have stayed like that, leaning against him, forever.

‘You feel nice.’

‘That’s good,’ he said. There was a pause, and then he added, ‘I’d like to point out that you look incredibly sexy wearing a little black dress and my jacket.’

I raised my head, and his kiss was subtle, like the rest of him; the merest brush of his lips across mine. His hand cupped my cheek, and held it, my hair between his fingers. I tried to read his expression but it was dark, his face in shadow.

Just then a taxi pulled up and he opened the door for me.

‘Queen’s Road, please,’ I said.

He shut the door behind me, and I wound down the window. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

He shook his head with a smile. ‘You need to get some sleep – work tomorrow. I’ll see you soon.’

Before I had a chance to reply, the taxi sped me away.

I didn’t know whether I was just completely in love with him, or ever so slightly disappointed. It was only when I got home that I realised I was still wearing his jacket.