Or rather he was breaking up with her.

To keep her brain from freezing over as she served patrons long into the night at the terribly exclusive Melbourne restaurant, Millie Andrews invented a background for each of the tables she waited on.

And now, as the clock edged past midnight, there were just three tables left.

One was a rather boozy celebratory business dinner, which thankfully, now that the bar was closed, was starting to wind up. The second consisted of a rather strained couple. The lady had duly eaten her way through fish and salad, minus dressing, and was clearly uncomfortable in her very tight black velvet dress. Millie decided she had probably just had a baby and was feeling horribly self-conscious at being out with her very good-looking but extremely passive-aggressive husband—'You don't really want dessert, do you, darling?'

And then there was the beautiful pair.

Blonde, svelte and jangling with nerves, a stunning woman was imploring her dining partner to 'just, please, listen'—reaching for his hand, her throaty voice urgent as her… Millie couldn't quite make this one out—husband, fiancé…? No neither fitted. Boyfriend? Or just lover, perhaps…? As he sat and listened impassively, utterly unmoved by her desperate pleas.

'Please, if you would just listen to me—really listen…'

They were too rich to notice or care that a waitress was clearing away their barely touched plates, and Millie's ears were on elastic as the blonde beauty begged for her chance, her bright, blue eyes glittering with tears as she choked the words out and reached for his hand again.

'Before you say it cannot happen, just hear w