‘The last tour I was on,’ he sniffed, ‘I was burnt out. We were a contingent of ground combat troops supporting coalition forces against ISIS in Syria. It was my third tour. I’d seen some things on the last one I couldn’t process. Psych nurse said it was “part and parcel and I had to compartmentalise it” but I didn’t know how.’

‘Compartmentalise what?’

‘Seeing a woman stoned to death. Finding the charred body of a 12-year-old girl, set on fire for talking to a boy. On my second tour, our battalion came across a quarry in the desert where these people had been crucified. A few of ’em were kids. One was still alive. He’d been there for days. They haunt my dreams, these people.’

‘Did he live, the boy?’

He shook his head. ‘Another time, there was this house where an explosion had gone off – we were sent in to clear it – and I moved a couple planks out the way and there was a baby under the rubble. Covered in blood.’

‘Holy shit.’

‘My parents were so proud when I joined up,’ Raf continued. ‘It’s a big deal when a Latino gets honours in the American military. My dad has some crazy-assed debts on his business that he doesn’t think I know about but even so, they threw the biggest party. Then I found out about Tina and… I lost my shit. I don’t think I’ve ever fully got it back. Salomé says I wanted to get kicked out. She says I’m an artist with paint, not blood. She might be right. I thought it was for me but … I’ve still let them all down.’

‘No, you haven’t. They love you no matter what. I bet there are a lot of other military families who’d love to have their sons or daughters back home with them.’

He laughed, holding my face with one hand and kissing my cheek. ‘You’re talking like a mom.’

‘Am I? Oh.’ That pulled me up.

‘It’s OK, baby. You don’t need to make me feel better. I know I’ve fucked up. I’m 33 years old and I buss tables in my dad’s restaurant. I put up shelves and paint walls for my aunt. I fitted my sister’s wardrobe.’ He stared out to sea. ‘I don’t have a clue who I am now.’

‘Guess what,’ I said to him, bringing him back to face me. ‘I don’t know who I am either.’

‘You wanna find out who we are together?’

I nodded. ‘Big time.’

I liked how I was when I was with him – he smoothed the hate out of me, and I tried to hug and kiss the sadness out of him. But sooner or later he was going to see the real me – and that would be the ultimate clincher. He didn’t have to wait long either.