Damn you, Ryan. Damn himself for not coming clean years ago, for being persuaded that protecting Sam and helping Ryan was the right thing to do. Possibly forgivable when he was young, but not over the years when maturity and experience should have made him know better.

Considering the circumstances, Sam was making a fantastic job of the dish and even seemed to be enjoying herself. She was a natural in front of the audience, and their banter with each other drew laughter. In fact, he was far more entertaining with her than on his own, and it was much more fun.

Or, at least, it should have been.

They finished the dish and invited a couple of audience members up on stage to taste it with them. The delighted duo, who Gabe recognised as a couple of ‘super fans’, sat around the counter, shyly tucking into the dishes. The MC asked everyone to thank Gabe and especially Sam, and the applause and cheers rang out.

That was it. Over. Smiling and chattering, some of the audience picked up their bags and left the theatre for a break, while others waited for the next chef to come on. Gabe had a moment of panic when he thought he saw Ryan sitting on the bench seats, but it turned out to be a lookalike scrolling through his phone. He was getting paranoid now. Maybe it hadn’t even been Ryan earlier … he had promised to keep away. No, it was clutching at straws to think it hadn’t been him.

Gabe and Sam went into the area behind the stage that acted as a green room for the performers. One of the tech guys handed them a glass bottle of water each. Sam unscrewed the cap for Gabe before opening her own.

‘Thanks for stepping in.’ He grimaced at his bandage. ‘I’m due at a book signing in twenty minutes.’ He waggled his hand. ‘Lucky I’m left handed, eh?’

Sam jigged around, grinning. Gabe knew the feeling: she was high on the adrenaline, and the relief it was over and had gone well.

‘I can’t believe I’m saying this but I actually enjoyed it. I was terrified but once we got started, I have to admit it was fun.’

‘You were great,’ Gabe told her.

‘Aww. You don’t have to be kind. I know I stammered a bit and my hands were shaking so much at the start. I was terrified I’d drop a pan, set fire to the set, or the dish would be a disaster.’

‘No, it was much more fun with you, and anyway,’ he grinned, ‘I never pick stuff that can turn out to be a disaster.’

She sipped her water and then became serious. ‘I was a little bit worried about you before you hurt your hand. You seemed to have a … moment when you weren’t with us?’