He nods. “Mum’s a Kiwi. Dad wanted to move back to his home country and Mum refused. They used to fight about it constantly.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go and visit him more often. I love Fiji – well, the couple of times I’ve been I’ve stayed in fancy resorts, so…” I trail off.

“It’s a beautiful country, but Dad remarried and had four kids. I wasn’t really made to feel all that welcome.”

“That sucks.”

Scott shrugs. “I got over it.”

It’s his turn to stare out of the window and we both sit in silence. The baby tries to get my attention and I put my hand down to feel the kicks.

“The baby’s gone mental,” I mutter.

Scott looks at my stomach. “Can you feel it move?” he asks.

Nodding, I take his hand and place it underneath mine. He frowns and goes extremely still. The baby gives an almighty nudge as if to show off and Scott widens his eyes.

“Oh my God, Trish. That’s amazing.”

I think Scott’s going to lift his hand, but it stays there, warm beneath mine.

“I hope I get to be a dad one day,” he murmurs, then grins as the baby moves again.

We lock eyes for a second and I hold my breath, captivated by his deep brown eyes and long dark eyelashes.

Scott lifts his hand away and sits back.

“We should make a pact,” he says, his voice light.

I wish I didn’t feel suddenly so on my own again.

“What sort of pact?”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

I choke. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll show you my knitting, if you show me your garden.” He holds out his hand and winks. “Deal?”

I’m beginning to think I’m not the only one who avoids uncomfortable situations. But I’m glad the bantering, chilled Scott is back. He’s much easier for me to handle. I shake his hand briefly.

“Deal.”

*

My phone rings as we walk towards Scott’s car.

“I feel as if eating all those dumplings has actually started turning me into one,” I say to Scott as I fish in my bag for my phone.

Scott laughs and unlocks the car as I retrieve my phone and answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Trish, how are you?”

“Pete,” I murmur.

Scott opens my door like a gentleman before walking around to his side.

“Good,” I say.

“Listen, I’m still at work and I know I said I’d help out with your little working bee tomorrow, but I have to get this project out the door by Monday. I’ll be spending all weekend slaving here.”

I stand beside the car and stare at Scott, who is now sitting in the driver’s seat, checking his phone.

“No problem.”

“I’m really sorry, Trish, but you know how it is.”