Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara steered her motorised wheelchair up the ramp to the flat door, opened it, then abandoned the machine inside. She stood, still careful despite the months and months since her mono, smiled when she realised she could stand, that her legs could safely carry her to the fridge for iced water and William’s mum’s home-made lemon cordial, losing her smile when she remembered it was William’s turn to cook. Because Alex was coming over, both for dinner and to discuss a prac session she’d missed when she’d had to go to physio and William . . . bloody William . . . didn’t mind a bit.

She slammed the fridge door shut, caught the radio that toppled off the top, grinned despite herself — her reflexes were good — then lost the grin as she put it back on top of the fridge.

How could any young woman — a beautiful, genius, young woman who smelled deliciously of gardenia bath salts and was now capable of walking around the flat as long as she conserved her energy in her wheelchair during the day, and had even walked through the sand at the beach last weekend, for the first time in a year, in an entirely stunning bikini which showed she had a gorgeous bosom even if the rest of her was on the small side . . . she gulped the excellent cordial down . . . how could any young woman like her have two, repeat two gorgeous men devoted to her and not one of them . . . not one, not even once, had tried to get her into bed?

She plopped down on the sofa and tucked her legs up, proud of her confident flexibility. Okay, Alex was just a friend. She had told him he was just a friend, and he knew William was living with her, which totally made sense as he’d been caring for her, which meant he’d changed his plans for going to ANU and was attending Sydney Uni instead.

But Alex — handsome, irresistible, totally too-charming Alex — still had no other long-term girlfriend, though she suspected he’d had a few one-night stands. He accompanied her to lectures, to lunch — and, yes, it was more convenient if he fetched her food rather than leave her to manoeuvre her wheelchair through the crowd — had coffee with her, spent at least two evenings a week at her dinner table. Everyone who didn’t know about William assumed she and Alex were an item.