We look at each other in awkward silence. I take in every part of Hugh’s face. His eyelashes, his thick eyebrows, the curl of hair just above his right ear. I can barely look him in the eyes, they’re too strong and too magnetic. Already I feel like he’s pulling me under. My knees start to wobble.

‘So,’ Hugh says, with the start of a smile playing at his lips. ‘This is you now, huh?’

‘I’m pretty sure you’ve always known me as this. But yes, this is me now.’ I do a half curtsey and immediately feel mortified that I half-curtseyed. Thankfully, Hugh is smiling and doesn’t seem to notice.

‘Did you know I was here?’ he asks when he looks up.

I shake my head.

‘So, you were just gonna tell the whole room regardless?’

‘It was the right thing to do.’ I shrug.

Hugh laughs. I missed the sound of his laugh.

‘I’m sorry about asking you to sign the dive log,’ I say.

‘I’m sorry I made you have to do that,’ he says at the same time, gesturing at the stage.

‘It’s OK,’ I reply.

‘My personal feelings got in the way,’ he adds, talking over me again.

We both start to laugh.

‘Personal feelings, huh?’

‘I wasn’t planning to come,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I had anything to present on anymore.’ He chuckles awkwardly. ‘And I didn’t think you’d want to see me after how we said goodbye.’

‘But I sent you a letter.’

‘What letter?’

‘The letter,’ I repeat, feeling impossibly stupid and incredibly frustrated. ‘It explained everything. Why I lied, what was happening with Millie . . . You never got my letter?’

Hugh shakes his head. ‘No . . . but when my boss insisted I come with her to help with her presentation I figured it wouldn’t be right to miss yours.’

I grin. ‘I have to admit – I heard you emailed Derek, and I was hoping it had something to do with the conference.’

‘Ah, yes, Derek.’

We both laugh.

‘The truth is . . .’ Hugh breaks off midsentence. He leans closer to me, his eyes lingering over my face, my lips. I feel like we are the only two people in the world. I grab his hand with mine, intertwining our fingers. For the first time in four months, it finally feels like I can breathe again.

‘Yes?’

‘Andi, I never stopped thinking about you. I missed you. I was hoping that I could find something of Derek’s to help, to make up for how we said goodbye. That maybe I could reach out to you again . . .’

‘Hugh,’ I breathe. ‘If anything, it’s me that should be thanking you. After all, you did help me go from talking about cereal to this.’ Although when I wave my hands around the cleared-out auditorium it doesn’t feel much more impressive than my cubicle.