Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh

      The producer’s lips formed a string of swearwords clear enough to be readable even by her. The announcer seemed to remember he wasn’t supposed to mention Dan. He flushed to his roots. And then paled.

      She wondered if Zander hadn’t exaggerated how stern a warning he’d given them all.

      Silence screamed live on air. She was so conscious that she had to say something. ‘I still adore Dan.’ She picked her way carefully to an answer. ‘But, no, I wasn’t talking about him.’

      ‘Aren’t you going to ask me where it was?’ Zander murmured down the line.

      The announcer circled his finger above his head, signalling his producer to wind up the call. She moved to disconnect the call.

      ‘No!’ Georgia said out loud and stilled the announcer’s gyro-finger and the producer’s steps.

      ‘No?’ The husky voice grew amused.

      ‘Not you, Alek,’ she corrected, matching the warmth. ‘So go ahead. Where did you have this epiphany?’

      How could she be alone in the dark with Zander when three million people were listening? Yet she just didn’t care.

      ‘There’s a tiny town up near the Scottish border. Great for viewing sunsets.’

      Her breath caught.

      The radio staff threw up their hands in silent protest as their segment started to unravel before their eyes.

      ‘I kissed a woman there and it changed my life.’

      The blood rushed from her face. ‘A kiss can’t change your life. Only you can do that.’

      ‘I’m beginning to understand that.’

      Both announcers and the producer all snapped their focus behind her and their mouths gaped open. She turned and saw the studio lights now fully blazing next door. Illuminating Zander leaning casually up against the glass, his mobile phone to his ear.

      ‘You taught me that,’ he said.

      Georgia stared, lost in the fixed focus of his eyes. ‘I did?’

      ‘I watched you week after week, plunging into situations that you weren’t comfortable with, taking the best parts out of them. Always positive. Always interested in the people you met. You only had to do the minimum but you didn’t, you applied yourself fully to it.’

      ‘I wanted to fix myself.’

      ‘You weren’t broken. You never were. You’re perfect the way you are.’

      ‘Perfectly crazy?’ She smiled through her tears.

      ‘Perfectly competent.’ He tipped his head. ‘I want to be competent, too.’

      ‘You are.’

      ‘No. I’m not. I do a job I hate because someone once told me I was good at it. I live a life I hate because someone once convinced me I wasn’t worthy of better.’

      Lara.

      She stood and tugged her headphones and mic with her. They were her lifeline. An umbilical cord to Zander. She crossed to the glass. ‘She was never worthy of you.’

      ‘I believe that now. It’s taken a long time. She didn’t have your courage. Your character.’

      No, she didn’t. ‘What life would you lead, if you could choose?’ This moment was too important to care whether EROS’ listeners were interested. They might have gone to a commercial for all she knew.

      ‘I want to go back to my roots. Making audio documentaries for syndication. It’s what I always wanted to do.’

      She thought about all those unnecessary hours of additional sound he’d recorded. ‘Is there a market for that?’

      ‘I’ll make a market. My house would make a great studio.’

      She smiled. His optimism was so infectious.

      She placed her small hand on the glass, over his large one where he leaned on it. His eyes glowed down into hers. ‘What else?’ she whispered.

      ‘I’m going to travel more. See amazing things. Record amazing things. My world has grown way too tiny.’

      ‘You won’t be able to travel.’ She laughed, though it was more of a cry. ‘You’ll be poor.’

      ‘You forget, I run marathons. I’ll run the world on foot if I have to.’

      He would, too, this new Zander. The best of the two Zanders. A tear streaked down her face. She curled her fingers on the glass and wished she could touch his.

      ‘What else?’

      ‘I’m going to get a new gardener.’

      The rapid change in direction threw her. ‘What happened to Tony?’

      He shrugged and smiled, but it was nervous. ‘Tony won’t live in.’

      ‘You want a live-in gardener?’ He might not be able to afford that, either.

      He nodded. ‘If you’re free.’

      Behind her, the announcers gasped, as one. And it saved her the trouble.

      She had to swallow twice to get the words out. ‘You want me to be your gardener?’

      He curled his fingers to match hers. ‘I want you to have the garden. And you’re going to need to tend to it every day.’

      ‘You want me to live in your house?’ she whispered.

      ‘For ever, George. With me.’

      ‘But you don’t want to get married? You told me.’

      He shook his head. ‘I didn’t want to get hurt. But that hasn’t worked. I hurt every day because I’m not with you. So I’m cutting my losses.’

      All over London women probably gasped, but Georgia knew exactly what that meant.

      ‘Ever the romantic, Alek,’ an announcer said in both their ears.

      Zander didn’t laugh. Neither did she.

      ‘I love you, Georgia,’ he whispered through the glass, down the line and out of three million radio speakers. ‘I thought I was managing the rest of my life but the moments with you were like a blazing beacon and they spilled light on just how dull the rest of my existence has become.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s lucrative but it’s nothing without you. Totally empty.’

      Tears clogged her throat. She struggled to clear them.

      ‘Are you proposing, Alek?’ the second announcer prompted, scenting a ratings slaughter.

      ‘Marriage? No,’ he breathed, and her heart lurched. ‘When I do that I’ll do it somewhere infinitely more special than my workplace.’ He tucked his phone to his ear and pressed a second hand up against the glass. ‘But I am proposing a future. A life together. A second chance for both of us.’

      Georgia stared at him through the glass, speechless. Then she ripped her headphones and mic off and turned for the door.

      The announcers went into panic mode but she didn’t care. They’d talk their way out of it; they always did. They could earn their enormous pay. She threw her gratitude to the young work-experience girl, grinning from ear to ear, who held the studio door open for her so that she could practically run through it.

      Outside, the whole office stood, transfixed, staring at the studio doors. She ignored them. Except for Casey who bounced on two feet, tears streaming down her face, both hands pressed to her excited mouth.

      Zander met her the moment she burst through the door. Swept her up and locked her to his strong body, turning slowly, eyes squeezed shut.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured over and over.

      ‘For