Jason doesn’t talk much on the return trip to London. Instead he reads a newspaper and watches Anna beat Vanya at cards over and over. She’s quick to raise the stakes from Polo mints to small change, teasing Vanya for his run of bad luck until he pulls out his wallet, making a big deal about the lone five-pound note he pulls out. The ticket inspector interrupts the game, their conversation moving on once their tickets are clipped, wallet, purse, and playing cards abandoned on the table as Anna pulls out a notebook. She lists everything Chantel still needs for the wedding, speaking half the time in Russian Jason has no hope of understanding, but that doesn’t matter. He listens instead to their tone, relaxed and easy-going, the satisfaction of great sex still singing under his skin. They arrive at Paddington before he knows it, all of them hurrying to stuff scattered belongings into carrier bags before disembarking.

Jason holds onto an overhead rail once they make it onto the Tube. He sways as it picks up speed, Vanya leaning on him when new passengers nudge them closer. He misses that weight against his side as soon as it’s gone, like he misses his company even before they’ve parted. It’s ridiculous to use words like miss, he tells himself as sternly as he can muster, especially about someone he’s going to see tomorrow night for dinner. Besides, following Vanya and Anna around shops this afternoon as they hunt down the last few wedding items won’t help him catch up with his work backlog.

Vanya meets his eye, his gaze lingering and so warm.

Maybe work can wait a little longer.

The idea of spending the rest of the day with Vanya is a small seed that takes root as they travel. Jason comes up with other reasons to extend their time together. Perhaps he could take care of whatever’s wrong with Vanya’s hot water. Making sure his place is cosy is very appealing now that it’s getting colder. If the way Vanya’s drawn to warmth is any measure, his heating system may be affected as well. It’ll be no problem to take a look at it this afternoon, if Vanya agrees, and then stay over with him this evening.

The Tube isn’t exactly quiet as he thinks through his options. The carriage clatters over rails as it takes a corner, and children make a ruckus, but all Jason hears is a repeat of Vanya’s whisper against his chest last night.

It was so much better than good between them.

Jason hears the same soft tone when Vanya murmurs his goodbyes at his Tube stop. The plastic handles of his carrier bag twist around Jason’s fingers as he dithers.

So what if work waits for him at home? And so what if Dom expects him to scout for some new projects right away? The man’s already a millionaire many times over. He can wait for a few days.

Jason comes to a snap decision as Vanya alights, guiding Anna along the packed platform, one hand on her shoulder.

Yes. Work can definitely wait until tomorrow.

He slips between the Tube-train doors just before they slide closed and hurries to catch up with them both, but spotting them isn’t easy. The tiled passages leading to the city surface are clogged with tourists. Vanya’s nowhere to be seen when he gets to street level, and neither is Anna. The breeze is an icy slap to his face—a wake-up call from his daydream of spending the whole day together. The reality is that he can’t see either of them through the traffic, and now that he’s in Vanya’s neighbourhood, he has no idea which direction they might have taken.

It’s luck that has him catching a glimpse of a scarf caught by the breeze, flapping like a flag just as Anna takes a corner. And that luck continues when he darts across the busy street without getting crushed by black cabs or bright red double-deckers. It seems like his luck might hold even longer when he spots Vanya in the distance, one arm still slung around Anna as they turn right into an alley.

That luck runs out when he runs to catch them.

They should be here, he could swear, when he comes to a halt.

They should be right here, between these two buildings. He’s so sure that he’d bet money on it.

Jason jogs all the way to the alley end, past scaffolding and netting covered with For Sale signage.

He’s been here before, he realises as he turns in a slow circle.

He’s been here before, on the hunt for a new project.

There’s still no sight of Vanya or Anna. Jason backtracks until he has to accept he’s lost them. He pulls out his phone, about to call when doubt overtakes him.

They’re probably shopping by now.

He should likely leave them to it.

Jason takes another look at the building to his left, seeing again why he first dismissed it. Ugly post-war blocks built in the 1950s are ten-a-penny around here. The warehouse to the right, on the other hand, is the 1800s treasure he remembers, a brand new For Sale sign the only difference since the last time he saw it. He uses his phone to take a photo. Then he takes another from a different angle to capture the high curve of its old windows and the rusting hoist on an upper storey that adds architectural interest.

A shiver of potential tickles.

This place could make an amazing renovation.

Plans take shape in his head as he puts in a call to the property company listed on the signage, and then he waits in a nearby pub until a sales agent can meet him. He rummages in his carrier bag intending to finish the crossword he started on the train, but Vanya’s wallet falls out from between the newspaper’s pages.

Jason sends him a quick text just as the agent arrives.

I just found your wallet!

It’s a short walk back to the warehouse with the agent, excitement mounting the whole way that he doesn’t let show on his face in case it provokes a price rise. She unlocks a door that’s twice Jason’s height at least, and he knows, just like he has on so many projects, that this one could be a winner.

The building hasn’t been touched in an age.

It’s absolutely perfect.

“Sorry about the smell,” the agent says as they climb rickety stairs up to the next floor where goods used to be unloaded. It’s cavernous and echoing, graffiti tagging each wall and the floors littered with detritus. The stink of pigeon shit is overwhelming, mildew so thick in the air that it’s awful. “At least the smell puts off squatters.” As Jason inspects window frames and lintels, the agent recounts damage squatters have inflicted on other buildings she’s sold. “They’re worse than rats,” she offers, her voice echoing across the vast interior as Jason pokes at crumbling plaster. “You know nearly all of them are foreign scroungers. I can’t wait until the whole lot get thrown once Brexit kicks in.” She only quits her rant when her phone rings.

Jason climbs another staircase to survey a second floor ripe with conversion potential while the agent answers her call. The final staircase he finds is narrow. He climbs it alone, checking each stair tread very carefully before gingerly applying his weight, the creaks underfoot almost masking the pings of new texts arriving.

They’re messages from Vanya.

Thank you.

I’m think I lost wallet on train.

And thank you for best weekend.

Jason quickly types. No need to thank me. He should be thanking Vanya. Without him, so many outcomes would be different. He’s helped make this whole wedding—an event Jason dreaded—into something he can hardly wait for. Getting to be Andrew’s best man for a third time will be a pleasure, and Vanya should get credit for that. Lord knows he clearly doesn’t need to work so hard to make Chantel’s wedding special. Yet he’s done so without question, refusing to take money for all the time he’s invested lately.

Jason’s almost at the top of the staircase when another text pings, Vanya’s reply so closely echoing his own feelings that he almost missteps.

Wish we were still there.

At the hotel? Jason asks. Glad it was fancy enough for you. It warms him inside, despite the damp chill of this old building, to know that Vanya enjoyed their time there.

His answer arrives just as fast. Fancy not important, Vanya sends, like he doesn’t live in an expensive part of London or wear designer outfits daily. Being with you is.

What are you doing now? Jason types before trying the door to the roof. The latch is stiff. It takes a little encouragement with his shoulder to ease it open, another text arriving as he sets foot outside, the breeze a welcome respite from the dank smell inside. The roof isn’t in bad shape, he notices as he edges along a walkway, making slow and careful progress as he snaps some more photos with his phone of the central London skyline beyond. Then he switches from photo mode to video as he turns to capture more of the location so Dom can assess it.

He’s still recording as the agent emerges from the rooftop doorway. She huffs and puffs her way towards him. “There you are,” she gasps, and then looks across the alley in the same direction his phone points. Shadows flickering inside the building opposite catch both of their attention. “See what I mean?”

“About what?” Jason’s distracted by another text arriving. He stops videoing so he can read.

Vanya’s sent an angel emoticon. I’m still work hard on wedding.

“About squatters.” The agent is still out of breath, but her sneer is loud and clear. “Look at them over there. Worse than rats, like I said. That place was empty not long ago. But once they find a way in, they take over a whole building before you know it.”

Jason doesn’t see a rat when he looks across the alley.

He sees something much worse.

His voice sounds like a stranger’s. “Maybe someone started converting that block into flats already.”

“Over there?” The agent is dismissive. “No.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Absolutely. I know every property for sale in this postcode. That one’s still on the market. Whoever is in there is definitely squatting.”

Jason reads the message on his phone screen again rather than look at what’s right in front of his nose.

Vanya’s text is categoric—I’m still work hard on wedding—but it doesn’t tell anything close to the truth.

He’s not working on the wedding at all.

He’s on the opposite side of this alley, so close that Jason can make out the smile he’s started to love. That smile widens as Anna steps into his embrace, still visible over her shoulder as he texts Jason more lies.

This time when his phone pings, Jason puts it away without reading.