He shrugged. ‘It’s what works for you. I don’t necessarily think it’s a great idea, having everything planned out to that extent, but frankly you’re in no state to get into an argument with me about it right now.’

He did have a point and, from the twinkle in his eyes, he knew I knew.

‘I’d still win though, if I could be bothered.’

‘Of course,’ he conceded, without meaning a word of it. ‘Bod, come on. We’re heading inside.’ Bod, having moments before been in a deep sleep, was up, stretched and waiting by the door within seconds.

* * *

About forty minutes later, the last vestiges of the pizza that Lorcan had ordered were sitting in the box with the main bulk of it, plus the cheesy garlic bread that we apparently had to have as it was on offer, now resident in our full stomachs.

‘Don’t you feel better now?’

‘I definitely feel fuller now, that’s for sure. Not to mention fatter.’ I prodded my tummy and Lorcan rolled his eyes.

‘It’s because you’re sitting down. You’re fine, woman.’

‘I think we can agree that pizza has more calories than the chicken salad I had planned. Honestly, every time I’m with you, you mess up all my careful organisation. The sooner this wedding is done, the better, I think.’

Lorcan slid a glance across to me. ‘You know, a lesser man could take great offence at such a comment.’

‘And yet I know your ego can take that and more.’

‘Ah, you do now, do you?’

‘I do,’ I said, preparing to push myself up from the sofa where he’d led me to from the garden, and insisted I sit while he made arrangements for food delivery, asking my preferences on toppings, et cetera. It was so long since I’d ordered pizza, my mind had gone a bit blank. I’d fallen into the eat-super-healthy routine some years back and I did, for the most part, enjoy it, but, now that I considered it, perhaps there was a little wiggle room for the odd treat now and then. I hadn’t enjoyed a meal as much as that pizza since… well, since Brighid’s cooking back at the pub in Ballalee. I wasn’t about to abandon all my good intentions but perhaps I could mix things up a bit more. I could still make my lunch and dinners in advance, but perhaps not label them for each day. I rolled that thought around my brain and found that it didn’t actually hurtle about in panic, bouncing off my skull as I’d initially feared. Interesting.

‘You know you’re going to miss me when this is all over.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Why can’t you just admit it?’

‘Perhaps because it’s not true?’