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I’ve been with enough women to know they put a lot of stock in what their friends think, and I want Holly’s friends to like me.

‘I hope you’re hungry,’ I announce as I stride into the living area, smiling at Holly’s guests. ‘I bought enough food to feed an army.’

Placing my cargo on the kitchen counter, I turn to face the two women sitting at the table which is strewn with even more studying debris than the last time I cooked in Holly’skitchen. A black woman with an amazing Afro who is eyeing me speculatively, and a serious-looking redhead with freckles.

Holly is hovering between them like she’s temporarily forgotten their names, so I don’t wait for introductions. ‘Hi,’ I say, striding to the first woman and offering my hand. ‘I’m Danny.’

She shakes my hand. ‘Denise.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I say before offering my hand to the redhead, who says, ‘Lucy,’ as she shakes my hand.

‘Nice to meet you, too,’ I say.

Denise tips her chin at the counter. ‘What you got there?’

‘Beef stroganoff. I cooked it an hour ago.’

Cocking an eyebrow at Holly, she says, ‘A man who can cook is a good start.’

Hell yes. I am the best start, Denise.

‘I’ll just pop on some rice and it’ll be in your bellies lickety-split.’ I know Holly has a rice cooker because I saw it the last time I used the kitchen. And I bought a bag of rice.

I turn back to the kitchen to get started when Lucy says, ‘Holly told us we were getting pancakes.’

‘You’re getting both,’ I say as I grab the rice cooker out of the cupboard. ‘You need protein as well as carbs while you’re studying and I’ll mix the batter while the rice cooks.’

I notice the two women exchanging glances in my peripheral vision as Holly says, ‘Let me give you a hand.’

Smiling at her, I shake my head. ‘No way. Sit. You guys do your thing. Pretend I’m not here.’

Denise laughs. ‘You’re a man in Holly’s kitchen. That’s not going to happen.’

Lucy nods in obvious agreement. ‘You are the proverbial elephant in the room.’

‘Well in that case,’ I say, winking at Holly as she sits, ‘feel free to talk about me.’

‘Oh, we intend to,’ Denise claps back.

‘Okay, you two,’ Holly says good-naturedly, ‘back off, let the man work.’

‘Hey,’ I tease. ‘I can multitask.’ They laugh as I pour the rice into the cooker. ‘So… are you two also in the ER or…’

‘I am,’ Lucy says. ‘Denise is in the surgical residency programme.’

We chat then as the rice cooks and I prepare the pancake batter. About their jobs and where they’re from and what their future plans are. They’re ambitious and I admire their drive, which reminds me so much of Holly. She doesn’t say much, she just sits and listens, but there’s this soft smile on her mouth like she’s enjoying how well I’m getting on with her friends, and I feel like I’m passing a test with flying colours.

When the rice is done I serve a small amount of stroganoff in ceramic bowls. I don’t want to fill them up because the main event is really the pancakes. I’m not exaggerating when I say I make the best pancakes in the entire state and if I haven’t won these women over before pancake time, I certainly will after that.

I’ve not met a woman yet who didn’t whimper a little when they took their first ever bite and I don’t want these women to be any different. I want them to tell everyone at the hospital about Holly’s boyfriend’s pancakes.

Because that’s what I want to be – Holly’s boyfriend. Holly’s plus one. Holly’s significant other. Holly’s ride-or-die.

I want to be Holly’s guy.

Sitting here with her friends, laughing and joking and basking in Holly’s approval, makes me want it more than I did before I entered the apartment. There is a lot riding on this batch of pancakes.

‘So,’ Denise says as she blows on a piping-hot spoonful of stroganoff, ‘Holly tells us you’re in a band.’