Today, their last day, had started with eggs and coffee at a deli counter, then they’d joined a downtown walking tour around the haunts of Jeannie’s eighties’ pop heroes, where Dan had patiently taken selfies of them outside Blondie’s rehearsal rooms, and Madonna’s actual flat. Sure, it was just bricks and windows, but to Jeannie, these streets were where the soundtrack of her life had bubbled up out of nowhere, from musicians who’d once struggled just like her. Her soul had lifted when the tour guide talked about their setbacks and successes, and she’d kissed Dan with grateful love, wondering if he knew how much it meant to her that he’d obviously heard the things she hadn’t said.

Now they were on Brooklyn Bridge, and Dan was promising her the view of a lifetime if she just kept going, one, two, three more steps.

‘There,’ he said, but he didn’t uncover her eyes straight away. Jeannie put her own small hands, neat enough to fly across the fretboard of her ukulele, over Dan’s long fingers. He had clever, strong vet’s hands, hands that treated injured dogs and birthed calves. A chilly breeze was blowing off the river below, but between Dan and Jeannie, there was a rose-gold glow.

She leaned back into his body, not wanting the moment to end. The light was just fading from the sky, and Jeannie’s whole soul rang with music, like euphoric birdsong surging through her veins. Her best friend Edith had assured her that happiness like this was impossible in real life. But for once, Edith Constantine was wrong. So wrong.

‘Ready?’ There was a slight tease in Dan’s voice; suddenly she hoped he hadn’t taken her to the edge of the bridge. Jeannie wasn’t good with heights. She scrabbled to remember if she’d told Dan that – there were moments when she forgot they hadn’t yet reached the boring ‘user manual’ stage of knowing each other. Allergies to marzipan, fear of crows, stuff you only mentioned when you’d run out of interesting things to talk about.

‘Ta da!’ Dan pulled his hands away and she gasped as the glittering Manhattan skyline rose in front of her, a black and silver collage of lights and towers that sparkled out of the dusk.

‘Wow!’ Jeannie turned within the tight circle of his arms so she was nose to nose with him. Dan was handsome from any angle. The breeze flipped his blond hair into his eyes, unusual deep denim-blue eyes, and Jeannie had to remind herself that this was actually her life. It felt too perfect, too romantic, to be real. Yet it was. This was love, at last.

‘I’m so happy!’ she blurted out and, to her amazement, Dan’s eyes glistened just like hers. He blinked, as if he couldn’t quite believe how perfect this moment was either.