‘I mean it. I don’t know why you can’t see it. You are fearlessly pursuing something you don’t even know exists. That’s objectively pretty cool. And you’re quick-witted. And I can make you laugh, which does wonders for my ego.’

I can’t bring myself to look at him. I can’t forget that he doesn’t want me to succeed. I can’t forget that he has no idea who I actually am. I can feel his eyes on me. He thinks I am a person who loves adventure and does night dives and has sacrificed my whole life to do something good for the world. There is no way he would like me if he knew I spent every weekday in a cubicle and every weekend rotating through the same breweries with a bunch of other couples that were exactly like Zach and me. He wouldn’t look twice at me if he saw me in my natural habitat – boring, quiet, steady Andi.

I will never be enough for someone like Hugh – so passionate and exciting and full of pure ambition. An even more terrifying thought crosses my mind.

Millie would be enough for Hugh. If Millie could overlook how much they disagree, they might even be perfect for each other. I hate thinking about it, but the thought draws me in anyway. It’s like looking at a car accident. I can’t look away. Scenes unfold in my mind’s eye, playing out in slow motion.

Millie and Hugh meeting, bonding over hating people who use toxic sunscreen, charting a course to sail around the world, stopping in Sydney and Los Angeles, dropping anchor in Maine and Newfoundland. Never mind that Millie doesn’t even know how to sail, I can see it all.

‘Look, Millie,’ Hugh says, interrupting my thoughts. ‘I know I’ve gotten in the way of your . . . focus . . . but I genuinely do want you to have a fair shake at finding the wrasse.’

‘Since when do you care about giving me a fair shake?’ I tease. The boat rocks us closer together. He flips on his back. Absent-mindedly, I nestle back into the crook of his shoulder.

‘I could be giving you a fair shake right now, but someone said we shouldn’t.’

I cackle ‘Sounds like someone has good judgement,’ I reply, swatting at his bicep. ‘Really though . . .’

‘Well, it’ll be good for me to know when I publish that there was a recent expedition to find the wrasse, and it still hasn’t been found.’

Alarm bells go off in my head. ‘When you publish what?’

‘I have a paper coming out in February. I’m actually going to Boston in April to present it.’