‘Get over here,’ I growl, and she springs up from her seat to come around the table to my lap. She’s light as a feather. I sit her across my legs and kiss her on the temple before tugging Marlowe more tightly into my side.

‘That’s a fair point, actually,’ Marlowe says, attempting to wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand.

‘He could be Daddy Winters,’ Tabby suggests.

Marlowe instantly starts coughing. ‘Oh my God, Tabs.’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, leaning into her so I can brush my lips over her hair. ‘Daddy Winters. It has a nice ring to it.’ I lower my mouth to her ear. ‘Especially in the bedroom.’

She swats my thigh. ‘Stop it.’

‘Let’s get this jewellery on you ladies before a seagull comes and spirits it away,’ I suggest.

‘Good idea.’ Marlowe reaches over and pulls both boxes towards us. ‘Anyway, Tabs, Bren can’t be a Winters. He literally has a whole company named after him.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ I say as I slide the symbol of my lifelong commitment onto my fiancée’s finger. ‘It could be a good call, actually. Maybe people will finally forget I’m a nepo baby.’

THE END

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A Note from Elodie

Dear Reader,

There comes a time in every book when an author reaches a fork in the road. To the left lies the boring, sensible route of factual integrity, and to the right the dazzling temptations of artistic licence.

I turned right when depicting the final turn in Tabby’s illness.

In real life, Brendan could never have flexed his billionaire muscles like that. Dr Elliott would not have been granted practising privileges and Tabby would have ended up getting emergency surgery on the NHS. Susie Tate, who is a GP (MD), enlisted the help of her paediatric consultant friend to confirm as much.

I considered this route, I really did. I thought that, actually, finding out that there was no financial wand he could wave would be a great life lesson for Brendan. Sometimes, you can’t flex your way out of a crisis. You just have to give your time and your support.

Sometimes, all you can do is show up.

But here’s the thing.

There was no way I was doing that to Marlowe.

No fucking way.

She prostituted herself and spent a fortune on getting her daughter across the Atlantic for surgery. She sacrificed everything for that trip. And there was no way on earth I was making her endure her worst nightmare after all that. I just couldn’t inflict that on her.