‘Yes. She gave me weird vibes and kept giving me weird looks.’

‘All because she wanted to put you in a marketing campaign.’ Millie starts to laugh. ‘You can be so dense.’

I can’t help but laugh too. But after a beat our laughter dies down again. ‘But . . .’ Millie says, trailing off.

We haven’t addressed the elephant in the room.

‘If Hugh was asking . . .’ I say, but I trail off too. Does that mean he’s still thinking about me? ‘Do you think . . .’ I say.

‘Do I think he’s going to Boston?’ Millie supplies.

I gulp. ‘Do you?’ I squeak.

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ she says.

Chapter 31

Four months post dive

I’m so jittery when I land in Boston that it takes me twenty minutes to find the spot where I’m supposed to meet my Uber. Boston is beautiful in April. The cherry blossoms are blooming and there are ducklings everywhere, but between worrying about my presentation and obsessing over Derek’s email, I can’t focus on enjoying the city.

I check into my hotel, drop my bags and head to a nearby yoga class I’d booked, hoping it will calm my nerves. Going to yoga has become such a regular occurrence for me now that sometimes I can’t believe it was the result of a silly reminder I set in my phone, a promise I made to myself the first day on Coral Sea Dreaming.

The conference doesn’t start until tomorrow morning, and tonight I will give my presentation one final run-through. Everything changed when I received Derek’s pictures.

Millie and I had pored over them that night on the couch.

‘How many does this guy take?’ she complained after we scrolled through the first twenty.

‘And this is just one dive,’ I replied. We kept going. All we were scrolling for was a clearer photo of a school of fish on the reef, one that could accompany a slide on coral regeneration and emphasise the main point: a season of cooler water gave corals the chance to rebound and act once more as a refuge for the surrounding fish populations.

We both saw the butterfly wrasse at the same time. In the lower left of the photo, purple, yellow, the outline of a small fin barely visible on its underbelly. Millie screamed.

‘Oh my God. Oh my God!’ she yelled.

‘No freaking way,’ I whispered, still staring at the picture.

‘All this time he just had this?’ She zoomed in on the photo, beaming.