As he talks, he runs his hand through her hair, wrapping a strand of it round his finger. She’s proud of her hair. Unlike other women her age – unlike her – she still wears it very long, and doesn’t have the need for expensive dyes to eliminate the grey. And she knows they look good together, his sandy-blond hair matching her own.

She’s noticed over this past year that age is starting to catch up with him. Lines have become more pronounced at the corners of his eyes, wrinkles on his forehead. But it suits him. It gives him an air of authority where his boyish good looks previously couldn’t.

‘You’ve lost weight again,’ she says, running her hand down his chest where she can feel his ribs. ‘Are you looking after yourself?’

‘I had a bit of food poisoning,’ he mumbles. ‘Dodgy stomach.’

Her fingers stop at a green-yellow smudge on his side. ‘And what’s this?’ she asks.

‘Hit by a squash ball,’ he replies. ‘And besides,’ he continues, back to her original comment, ‘wouldn’t you rather this, than the beer gut that so many of my friends have?’

‘I wouldn’t care,’ she says, looking up at him, conscious of the soppy grin on her face. ‘Whatever you look like.’

He leans down and kisses her, smiling. ‘You would. When I got man boobs and a double chin.’

‘Never,’ she laughs.

His phone beeps from his jacket on the floor, interrupting the moment. He ignores it, but she can sense him wanting to check.

‘When do you need to get back?’ she asks quietly.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘Soon,’ he says. ‘We have plans for tonight.’

We. She wants to ask, but she won’t.

‘That’s fine,’ she says, feigning nonchalance. ‘I’m off out tonight, too.’

‘Really?’ He seems surprised, and that annoys her. Yes, I have a life, she thinks. ‘Where to?’

‘Oh, just out with friends.’

‘Who?’

She lists a few names, mainly men. That gets his attention, as she knows it will, even though she feels pathetic for playing these silly games.

‘Any of them single?’ he asks.

‘Yes,’ she says, but doesn’t add any more.

It has the desired effect. He shuffles down in the bed until they’re face to face, their noses touching. He kisses her, slower and softer than before.

‘We still have time,’ he says, his mouth pressed against hers, his voice husky and deep. ‘For a bit more.’

After, he showers quickly and gets dressed in the same clothes. She wonders if his wife ever suspects when he returns home smelling sweet and fresh, even after a long day in the office. But she doesn’t care. It won’t matter soon.