When I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was.

It was cold, it was dark, and my left arm was wedged underneath the body of a man that I was sure was not my fiancé. I rubbed at my eyes, all gummed up with mascara, and waited for my memory of the night before to come back. And it did, every single second of it. I remembered sitting down to watch the fireworks and pulling the blanket around me. I remembered resting my eyes for just a second. But how long ago was that? It was still dark out and the moon rested low in the sky, casting the clearing in its pale, milky glow. Twisting my neck to look at Evan, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, absolutely fast asleep, I swallowed hard. Between us, his phone sat on top of the blankets and I delicately tapped the screen to find out the time.

6.53 a.m.

‘Fuck!’

I yanked my arm out from underneath his head like I was pulling off a plaster. He muttered something unintelligible, then pulled the blankets up over his head, barely moving and still fast asleep while adrenaline coursed through my veins. There were only seven minutes until my helicopter left for The Songbird, I had no idea how to find the helipad, and I was absolutely desperate for a wee.

‘What do I do?’ I whispered to a sleeping Evan, shaking my arm to get the feeling back.

But there was only one thing I could do.

Leave.

No matter how wonderful my night had been, it was always going to end this way, the same way every night ended. I woke up and the dream was over.

Without a sound, I reluctantly slipped my arms out of Evan’s warm jacket. I wanted to wake him to say goodbye, but I couldn’t. We’d shared too much, said too many things that were easy to say the night before but hard to admit the morning after.