THAT SATURDAY MORNING — almost two weeks to the day since she had last seen Arthur — Amelia’s mobile rang with the tone Priya had assigned him. Because Your Humble Servant was really not as subtle as Arthur may have thought, and God Save the King was really what Amelia needed blaring across the flat at eleven a.m. while she and Priya made brunch.
Amelia grabbed her mobile off the counter. “Hello?”
“Amelia. How are you?” Arthur asked.
“You remembered my phone number.” It had been two weeks. Two weeks and nothing but a terse text message. She had used all her self-restraint to not chase the photographers outside her flat away with the announcement that Arthur had unceremoniously dumped her.
“I’ve been rather busy.”
“I assumed. It was that or you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
“We
