My heart swelled at the thought. Harvey had left such an unpleasant taste in my mouth that I’d assumed I’d be put off men for years. But there had been something about Jensen’s manner that had attracted me the first time I saw him. He was one of the loveliest men I’d ever met, he was kind and thoughtful, funny and clever and – I smiled to myself at the memory – a very generous lover. My mum would have adored him. He’d been there for me when I’d needed a friend over the last few months and he had come to mean so much more than that. Maybe he was the one: the partner with whom I could create the same loving relationship as my parents had had.

Except that I had to let him go …

The bedroom door opened silently and Jensen, wearing only boxer shorts, crept in carrying a tray. My heart jolted at the sight of him.

His face lit up with a smile when he saw I was awake. ‘Good morning, beautiful!’

‘Don’t know about that.’ I smiled back and covered my left hand with my right, feeling silly that he’d caught me admiring the ring. ‘I’ve probably got panda eyes and hair like a bird’s nest.’

‘If you’re trying to put me off you, it’s not working.’

He kissed me firmly on the lips before setting the tray on my lap. My scalp prickled with nerves; he was nearer the mark than he knew. After our cosy conversations last night, the things I was going to say this morning weren’t going to be easy.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, perching on the bed beside me.

I bit my lip and cast my eyes down to the ring on my finger. ‘Awful, I’d been planning on waiting until our wedding night, to, you know …’

He shot me such a worried look that I couldn’t hold back a giggle. ‘Your face!’

‘You minx,’ he tutted. ‘Now, ideally I’d have brought you a really nice tea tray with flowers and fresh croissants but I was worried about you waking up and finding the flat deserted, so I’ve improvised.’

My insides went wobbly when I saw what he’d done. He’d made tea in a proper pot, put milk in a jug and found two matching mugs. But the pièce de résistance was a rose he must have made himself from twisted silver foil.

I picked up the flower and twirled it round. ‘It’s perfect.’

Blind to my wobbly lip, Jensen continued, ‘I haven’t got much in to eat, I’m afraid. I thought we could go and get breakfast somewhere. Or brunch, if we don’t make it until later. So in the meantime, it was either a dish of leftover noodles or these …’