‘I’d have felt terrible if you’d broken your promise, because of me. I…’ He paused, shaking his head slightly before quickly glancing over. ‘If I’m being honest, I got carried away, with the music and the wine, and everything so beautiful in the starlight.’ He pulled a wry smile. ‘That’s not completely true. It was you. You looked so beautiful. I mean… you always look… you are beautiful. I knew you weren’t interested in anything more than friendship, but it felt like… I thought that… there was something there. With us. That it wasn’t just me. Which was clearly wishful thinking, probably helped along by Ebenezer’s wine. So like I said, I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.’

I really hoped Sam couldn’t tell how disappointing that felt. Even as I knew it was the only way to avoid far greater disappointment later on.

‘Thank you. Apology accepted.’ I took a deep breath, and in the safety of the evening shadows, it felt easier to appease his guilt with some honesty of my own. ‘And it wasn’t wishful thinking. I felt it too.’

His head jerked up, with a look of utter surprise. I hurried to get the rest of my words out. ‘But I wouldn’t have kissed you, even if I’d finished the Dream List. The whole point of it was to learn how to be my own person, to be content with my life so one day I can share that with someone else. While I’ve realised I don’t need a committed relationship in order to be happy or complete, I’ve also realised that I do want one. I’m a “not yet” when it comes to falling in love. You’re a “never”. I really like you, Sam, but I’m not interested in casual dating or some sort of friends with benefits thing that’s not going anywhere.’

I didn’t add that my heart really couldn’t take another bashing so soon after Joan had left, and it would be impossible for me to kiss or date Sam and keep it casual.

‘Yes, of course. No, totally. I completely understand. I don’t want that either. I wouldn’t normally… I mean, I haven’t… You’re the first person I’ve wanted to kiss since Carrie. I don’t make a habit of ambushing my friends.’

‘It’s none of my business who you choose to ambush,’ I said, managing to keep my tone light-hearted despite every nerve in my body crackling in response to his words. ‘As long as it’s not me from now on.’

‘Absolutely.’ He got to his feet, screwing up the empty chip paper. ‘Although, like I said—’

‘So, is this it then, for the grand Bigley Bottom tour?’ I asked.