‘Nope,’ Freddie replies. ‘American.’

The chef mutters something else in Italian. His expression is blank, bordering on angry, but it gives nothing away.

‘He says this pasta is best,’ Matteo tells us. ‘He says he would cook this pasta.’

‘Are you sure?’ I laugh.

‘He says this pasta is the winner,’ Matteo tells us before announcing it to everyone else.

The chef gives us both a congratulatory handshake – he must be impressed. After, Freddie picks me up and spins me around. He’s done this a few times and I always thought it was for show – I suppose it still is, but still, it makes me dizzyingly happy.

‘I was too scared to taste it before,’ he tells me. ‘Shall we try it?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ I reply.

‘Mmm, it is really good,’ Freddie says. ‘If I do say so myself.’

Freddie stabs a couple of pieces of pasta – fusilli, he says it’s called. It looks like cute little corkscrews, making it the perfect shape for scooping up lots of sauce with.

I lean over and open my mouth, waiting for Freddie to feed me.

‘Hope you like it, babe,’ he says.

Babe – our safe word, the one we said we’d use if things got too much and we wanted to cool off. Am I being too much for him? Is it all too much for him since we slept together? I’m almost annoyed at him, for springing this on me all at once.

As he holds out the pasta for me to taste, I don’t know what else to do but try it, although I feel too upset to eat now, which is not at all like me. Before the pasta touches my lips, something knocks me to the ground.

I look up to see Daniel on top of me, pinning me down to the floor.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I ask.

Before he has chance to explain, Freddie picks him up by his T-shirt, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. He holds him there for a moment, for everyone to see, holding him away from me.

‘Put him down,’ Eva screams.

‘What’s happening?’ Zoey asks as she rushes over. ‘Do we need to get Security again?’

I wonder to myself, during these events, how often they actually wind up needing to call Security. I wouldn’t have thought it was ever – if so, we’re about to set a new record for twice in one tournament. Perhaps just because this is such a nice place, they don’t want anyone lowering the tone or killing the romance with drama. Nothing like a rowing couple (or couples) to kill your buzz.

‘He just lunged at her,’ Freddie says angrily.

‘No, wait, I can explain,’ Daniel says, squirming around in Freddie’s grasp, struggling to speak. ‘The pasta… it’s got shellfish in it.’

I place my hands over my mouth.

‘So?’ Freddie replies.

‘So, she’s allergic, you moron,’ Daniel tells him.

Freddie puts him down.