“This. You and me,” I say. My lousy mood of earlier has managed to slip its lead, and now I’m full-on cross. “Look very clearly at us, Misha, because I don’t think you’re doing that at the moment.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me, Charlie, because you seem to have such a lot of things to say. Such a lot of suddenly loud things to say.”

I breathe in sharply. “You haven’t given up all your responsibilities.” He stares at me. “I mean, there’s still me.”

“What?”

The words pour out of me. “I’m one of those responsibilities. Probably the biggest one. I mean, just look at me. I’m still having seizures.”

“Turns.”

I laugh. “It doesn’t bloody matter. Call them tumble dryers if you want, Misha. They’re seizures, and I’m at the risk of having them every day for the rest of my life.”

“I know that,” he says softly.

“Do you? Really? It’s a different knowledge from when we were just friends. Then you could walk away when you wanted. You could zip off and fuck your flavour of the evening. Now, you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t ever say I’m stuck with you again,” he says furiously. “I won’t have you talk about yourself like that.”

“But you are,” I say passionately. “You are stuck with a man who has a lifelong condition that could get worse. And one day if the meds stop working, I could end up having surgery and then what? You know the risks attached to that. We looked at them together.”

“We did, and I seem to recall that the surgery has worked very well for people.”

“It has.” I nod wildly. “But in other people, it’s resulted in some personality changes. Is that what you want, Misha? Do you want to end up with someone different from the original person you took on? Do you want to be looking after me for the rest of your life putting out my tablets every day and fastening my medi bracelet?”

He’s gone very white. “Why would you bother asking?” he says through thin lips. “When you’ve already decided what my feelings are on the matter.”

“You could have someone better, Misha.”

“Who?” The word is an explosion of sound. “Who is better than you?”

“Well, Adam, for a start.”

He looks confused. “Who?”

“Adam, the beautiful man sitting next to you at the table. He’s been practically in your lap over dessert. Surely you remember?”

His expression clears slightly, and he steps closer. “Charlie, are you jealous?”