‘I was twenty-two,’ I said. He reached out for my hand and I let him take it.

‘It was an aneurysm,’ he said, scratching his chin and twisting his mouth into a grimace I was all too familiar with. ‘It was quick. People seem to like it when I tell them that, like they don’t have to feel as bad.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I replied. Not because it helped, but because it was just what you said. ‘My mum had cancer. She knew something was wrong but she didn’t tell me or go to the doctor until it was too late to do anything.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not because it helped, but because it was just what you said.

‘Really the worst club to be a member of.’ I tried a smile and almost made it.

Evan placed his other hand on top of mine, making a Fran hand sandwich. ‘Are you close with your dad?’ he asked.

Staring down at the little stack of fingers and thumbs between us, I shook my head. ‘No. They got divorced when I was little, he already had someone else and she got pregnant, so he left. My mum didn’t really like me having anything to do with him or the baby. I know what happened isn’t her fault, but it’s still hard. We don’t really have any sort of relationship, we’re Facebook friends. That’s about it.’

‘Wouldn’t you like to have a brother or sister?’ he asked.

It was such a novel concept, I didn’t know quite what to say.

‘I – um – it would be …’ I started to say, stuttering my reply. ‘I couldn’t before because it upset my mum, and Kim is so much younger than me, it always felt weird, but yes. I suppose in theory I would like to have a sister.’

‘You sound surprised,’ Evan said, holding my hand a little tighter than before.

‘I am,’ I admitted. ‘It’s not something I think about often. Are you close with your dad?’

He started to laugh but somewhere along the way it turned into a sigh. ‘Would you believe me if I said it was complicated?’ he asked.

Squeezing his hand, I nodded, eyes fixed on his.

‘I would believe anything you told me.’

From this distance, I could see his eyes weren’t just brown, they were more of a deep coffee colour with flecks of honey shifting in the light. His skin glowed, and there was the tiniest nick where he’d been careless with a razor on the left side of his jaw, and I imagined him shaving in the hotel bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his bare chest reflected in the mirror. Hand in hand, face to face, our eyes locked together, I held my breath and the carnival melted away.

‘You!’