“I just wanted to make sure—” He seemed unable to finish the sentence, his expression pained as he concentrated on the candle in the middle of the table. And then I understood.

“It’s over,” I answered. His eyes met mine.

“Really?”

I knew I needed to reassure him. “Yes. We’re not together.”

His relief was so obvious that my heart broke a little for him. How had he been so talkative, so charming and attentive over dinner, all the while holding back that incredibly difficult question? I tightened my grip on his hand.

He dropped his eyes, shaking his head as if dislodging something awful. “I was so worried.”

“I know you must have been. I’m so sorry.”

He looked up and smiled. “It’s okay, I mean, you and I, we’re not—” He stopped short, and I pulled back my hand as though I’d been burnt. “We’re not …” he’d said. As in, “We’re not together, we’re not a couple, we’re not in a committed relationship …”

I had the answer to my own question, and I hadn’t even asked it.

“No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. Wait …” His face was awash with confusion and frustration. Mine likely looked the same. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know how I manage to mess this up every time, but what I meant was, until now I haven’t given you any reason to not be with someone else.” His syntax was crap, but I was starting to follow his train of thought.

“In Hawaii, I wasn’t being honest with myself about what I wanted, which meant I couldn’t be honest with you either. I’m just relieved it’s not too late—that is, if I don’t completely screw this up right now by being an inarticulate dick.” That made me laugh, and he joined in.

“You do suck at expressing yourself sometimes, but I do too,” I said, letting him off the hook.

He took my hand again and I let him. “What I wanted to tell you, what this whole night was supposed to be about, is that I’m not just here for the week.”

“What?” I realised my mouth was hanging open and I closed it.

“Sorry, I mean, I am. I am here for this week, and I have to go back to the States for a bit, but then I’m coming back. Sarah, the whole team’s moving here in March for a three-month secondment. That’s why I’m here this week—I’m making the arrangements.”

I was speechless and my mind struggled to process what he’d told me. Josh was coming to Sydney. For a long time. For months. It was exactly what I’d hoped for, only …

“But what does that mean for us?” There. I’d asked my question.

He looked confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I couldn’t believe I had to spell it out. “I mean, if you’re going to be here for three months, what do you want to happen between us?” I asked snarkily. I watched his thoughts play across his face. Then a smile, one that lit up his eyes, made me realise I’d been too harsh. I bit my lip, suddenly contrite.