Yet I can’t set aside the fear. It was one thing Zoë giving birth to a child I never expected. It’s very different to try to conceive, knowing there’s a huge chance the new person we create might be blighted by a life-threatening disease. Just because I didn’t pass the faulty gene on to Leo doesn’t make it any less likely I’d pass it on to another child. And going down the embryo screening route isn’t an option: the abnormality they found is so rare that it hasn’t been authorized for in vitro testing yet.

But I’m afraid of losing Liv too. We work together, live together, love together and I am happier than I ever expected, in our unconventional family. I don’t want anything to change.

Which scares me more? Being without Liv, or taking a risk that could bring bliss and pain in equal amounts?

When I’m stuck, I sometimes imagine Kerry is here, trying to talk some sense into me.

I think she’d tell me that life is never risk-free . . .

‘Do you think there’s something different about baby-making sex?’ Liv whispers in my ear after we’ve got our breath back.

I laugh. ‘No condoms?’

‘Not just that, idiot. It feels . . . reckless. After all these years trying not to get pregnant, I’m getting an added frisson from playing baby roulette.’

‘It’s nature’s way of giving us something to look back on when we’re new parents and sex is a distant memory.’

‘Bullshit. I will never be able to share a bed with you without wanting to shag you, Joel Greenaway. Even when we’re in our nineties, I will still be harassing you for sex.’

‘Poor me.’ I kiss her, the idea of growing old with Liv adding to the afterglow. Of course she got her way about trying for a baby. Right now, I’m completely on board with the plan and I want to hold on to this warmth and—

‘Dad! Livvy! Time to get up!’

Leo bounds into the room, jumping into the centre of the bed, even though at ten years old, and growing rapidly, he could easily do serious damage to us or the bed frame.

‘Yeah, all right, Lion King, we’re allowed a lie-in occasionally,’ Liv says, winking at me. ‘Dad will get you breakfast then how about the beach?’

I grab my boxers from the floor and pull them on under the duvet before I usher Leo into the kitchen. Sun pours through the folding doors and I feel as if we’re in an advert for something wholesome – bio yoghurt, maybe – because this is what life’s best moments should feel like. I start to make Leo’s favourite eggy bread, which was my favourite too when I was his age.