‘Can’t I have you?’ he shot back. ‘Then why did you text me?’ This was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. ‘Rachel, maybe you’re right, maybe the only reason I want you is because I think I can’t have you. But we won’t know until we know. You’re just going to have to take that chance.’

He held my gaze and I was frozen by his being Not-Luke. I’d honestly thought I’d never again consider another man, and even though that seemed to have changed, Quin’s unfamiliarity confused me.

That beautiful fantasy of ‘After ten minutes I felt I’d known him all my life’ didn’t occur so much in reality. Nobody likes to hear this, but intimacy isn’t a gift granted by the Gods of Love at First Sight, but is something that has to be worked at—like learning to stay upright on a unicycle.

This relative stranger wanted things from me—my time, my thoughts, access to my body. And for the first time in forever, the idea wasn’t horrifying. Which I put down to whatever strange business had gone on between us at the meditation weekend.

It wouldn’t be easy. I was out of practice. But if I wanted a life with love, I’d have to spend time with this person I didn’t know, I’d have to sit in silences that were sometimes far from comfortable, I’d have to accept all the ways he wasn’t Luke.

Suddenly I was okay with that.

*

It’ll never last. That’s what I’d thought at the start. I laughed at Quin’s impatience and couldn’t be arsed to be intimidated by his fast-changing moods. And that, without me knowing it, was the perfect attitude.

He was interesting. Intriguing. Frequently entertaining.

And sexy. Oh God, yes. There was an edge to him that sparked something in the flat battery that was my heart.

But there was plenty that was wrong with him. Even though there were one or two heartbroken women in his recent past, it was safe to say he wasn’t a charmer—not immediately anyway. His smiles were rare and he could be blunt to the point of offensive. His moods had a tendency to spike and then plunge, his energy was inquisitive, almost acquisitive, and he was too hungry for quick fixes.

This was the sort of thing that happened a lot: one Saturday, skimming the paper, he came across a rave review of a book. ‘Rach, listen to this!’ He read out a few sentences, then declared, ‘I’m buying it!’ Immediately he downloaded it to his Kindle and dived in, but about half an hour later, abandoned it, complaining that the reviewer ‘hadn’t a clue’.

‘You didn’t give it a chance,’ I’d said.

‘I did!’

‘Everything disappoints you.’

‘Not you.’

‘But I will. Just give me time.’