“You really do travel a lot,” I said, purposefully steering clear of my thoughts.

“Yes, but you do too, don’t you?” I turned to see a gentle smile.

“I guess. I mean, not as much as you do—and not for work or anything. And, of course, I can only travel in the school holidays, and that’s when they hike the prices, so as a teacher I always get stung with the more expensive flights, the pricier accommodation.”

I was rambling again, but for some reason I couldn’t stop complaining about the cost of travel—to the wealthy man. Shut up, Sarah.

But I didn’t shut up.

“And, for most of last year I didn’t travel at all—not until the trip to Greece.”

“Why’s that?”

Without realising, I had painted myself into a Neil-sized corner. Please, Sarah, do shut up.

“Because of my ex.” Nooo! He didn’t say anything, so I ignored my very loud inner voice and went on to explain how Neil didn’t like to travel and how I’d changed who I was to be with him, and how that meant I’d stayed put when all I’d wanted to do was go somewhere. Finally, I wrapped it up with, “So, yeah …” It was definitely one of my less eloquent moments.

He was quiet for a moment and, predictably, I spent the entire time beating myself up for sounding like I was auditioning for a Gilmore Girls reboot.

“Well, I’m certainly glad I had the good fortune of being there when you ventured back out into the world.” He lifted the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it.

So, maybe he didn’t think I was a complete idiot with verbal diarrhoea.

*

“So, where are we going for dinner again? I know you told me the name, but is it fancy or caz’?” I was rifling through my luggage and considering what might be appropriate for dining out in a ski town in summertime.

I’d packed carefully and had a range of options, but I wanted to be sure we looked like we were going to the same place. It irks me when I see couples out and it seems like one of them thought they were dining at a nice restaurant and the other thought they were volunteering at a community garden.

James looked up from his own suitcase. “I was just going to wear jeans and a dress shirt.”

“Okay, cool.” Cool? What am I, twelve? I took out a pair of skinny jeans, a pair of ballet flats and a flouncy, floral long-sleeved top. Okay, it was a blouse, but I hate that word. It conjures images of pirates or (worse) 80s New Romantic pop groups.

And even though James had seen me naked numerous times, I went into the bathroom to change. Sure, I needed to freshen up, but—truth be told—I was still self-conscious about changing in front of him. It was such a couple-y thing to do and I didn’t think we were quite there yet.