Slowly, I stood up, tossed my hair over my shoulder and wiped at my wet eyes, two smudges of mascara on my fingers. Patrick looked like Patrick, calm, confident and slightly bemused, still holding me up, one hand on my arm, one on my waist. I looked like a pound-shop Kardashian.

‘It’s good to see you, Reynolds.’

‘It’s good to see you, Parker.’

And just like that, three long years melted into nothing.

It was still light outside, still not even nearly dark, but the edge had been smoothed off the sun, leaving the streets sticky in the almost-dusk. Patrick leaned against the wall of the pub while I stood, uncomfortably straight, half hiding underneath a tree heavy with tiny pink flowers.

‘So,’ I started, swirling the glass of wine he’d bought me. ‘Long time no see.’

Patrick smiled but said nothing.

‘How’ve you been keeping? Been anywhere nice over the summer?’ I asked, filling the silence with a steady stream of hot bullshit. ‘Warm, isn’t it? Can’t believe the weather, it’s so close, that’s the problem, so humid. I’ve barely slept a whole night since I’ve been back and—’

‘I love your hair that length,’ he said, interrupting my ramble with exactly what I wanted to hear. ‘It suits you long.’

Was it longer than the last time I’d seen him? I didn’t think so. Bigger, almost definitely. The humidity was real. I looked at the people around us, either busy with their own conversations, staring at their phones as they smoked or sat or sipped their drinks. I wanted to shake them, explain what a momentous occasion this was and have them acknowledge it. Just an average Saturday night to them, a second chance with my soulmate for me.

‘It really is good to see you,’ Patrick said, finally filling the gaps as my words failed me. ‘I’m surprised you were free, I was sure you’d be too busy to fit me in.’

He rolled his glass against his lips before finishing his whisky. Had they always been that full? I wondered. God, I hoped our children had his lips. No, bad Ros! You are not having children with this man, you’re not having sex with this man and you’re certainly not having a destination wedding in Hawaii, just the two of you, on the beach at sunset with dolphins leaping out of the waves to anoint your blessing.

‘Not too busy,’ I squeaked, racing with myself to find the right words. I knew so many of them, I used them all the time, literally every day. Why did they have to fail me when it mattered the most?