Outside our villa you can either follow the driveway down towards the main part of the island or, I’ve just found out, there is a little pathway that leads around the side, into the woods.

‘What are we doing here?’ I ask him. I sound almost suspicious, but I’m not. I’m just low-key hoping it's my dream come true, and I’m nervous.

‘We’re nearly there,’ he tells me as he leads the way. ‘Just before we have lunch, I thought you might like to see this.’

I wonder what ‘this’ could be.

‘I thought it might be something cool to put in your book,’ he says. ‘If you’re writing about your story.’

Gosh, I wish I were writing something – anything. I do think it’s a good idea, to plagiarise my own tragic tale, but I just can’t bring myself to sit down and do it. I don’t feel all that romantic or comedic right now, and that’s pretty much all my books are made of.

‘This is the villa’s secret path, down to the beach,’ he explains. ‘No one really knows it’s here. What’s also here is… this.’

I realise where the sound of rushing water is coming from as we approach a waterfall. It’s big, but it isn’t a sheer drop. The water thunders down over the rocks below, which go on for further than I can see.

‘That leads all the way down to the beach,’ he tells me. ‘You can walk alongside it.’

‘It’s stunning,’ I admit, gazing at the crystal-clear water. There’s something so hypnotic about watching it. It’s the cold shower I need to cure me of my thoughts about Freddie giving me the Edward Eden treatment against a tree.

‘Okay, lunchtime,’ he says. ‘It’s just a little further.’

‘Further into the woods?’ I reply.

‘Yeah… you look worried. What do you think I’m going to do?’ he asks with a chuckle.

God, if only he knew.

‘Nothing, nothing,’ I quickly insist. ‘But I don’t imagine there are many restaurants in the woods.’

‘There’s an exclusive restaurant inside a cave on the other side of the island,’ he tells me. ‘We’ll have to go – I didn’t fancy going solo. It only has five tables.’

‘Wow, that sounds amazing,’ I tell him. ‘Like something out of a…’

As we approach a clearing in the woods, my voice fails me. The trees have been decorated with flowers and lanterns, and on the floor there’s a blanket, laid out with an impossible amount of delicious-looking food and drink.

‘A fairy tale,’ I say, eventually finishing my sentence.

‘What do you think?’ he asks.

‘Freddie… it’s amazing… how did you…?’

‘I organised it with the hotel,’ he says. ‘I thought it would make a great scene for the book and, you know, if you write a character like me into it, I want to look good.’

He flashes me that cheeky smile of his, showing off his dimples.

Okay, so he’s only doing this as a mate, to give me ideas for my book, it’s not a romantic lunch, but it’s amazing.