‘Look, there’s something I have to tell you.’

‘I need to say something.’

We both speak at once and break off, both of us smiling.

‘You go first,’ I say quickly, aware of wanting to catch whatever it is before it slips away. I know if I go first, everything will change.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not good with words.’ His eyes meet mine and his face is full of apology. ‘But I owe you an explanation.’

‘For what?’

‘For why I’ve been avoiding you. For not saying goodbye at the funeral and for ignoring your texts. For being a jerk to Maya.’

He’s taken off his jacket and I can feel the broadness of his shoulder through the white cotton of his shirt.

‘It wasn’t Maya’s fault. She’s just a kid. It was an accident.’

‘I know, and I’ve apologized to her tonight. I was a teenager once and we all remember what a total idiot I was.’

Ben’s eyes search mine for recognition, recalling that night in the restaurant, as if wanting to make sure I haven’t forgotten.

I haven’t forgotten, I want to tell him. Not even a second of it.

As he holds me close, our bodies gently sway together. It’s a slow, romantic ballad and I can feel the pressure of his fingertips on my back, guiding me. It makes me feel safe. It’s a lovely thing, feeling safe.

‘I wish I hadn’t suggested we go out, then none of it would ever have happened.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Ben looks upset.

‘It’s true.’

‘No, it’s not.’

His head jerks back and I catch flashes of pain and frustration in his face. ‘What’s true is I had the best evening, and I don’t regret that for a second. What’s true is I got scared. I thought I’d lost Stan, like I lost Janet.’

I’ve never seen Ben like this, and I can tell it’s really important for him that I believe him.

‘Like I’m scared of losing you.’ There’s a beat as his eyes search out mine. ‘I’m scared of loving someone, in case I lose them again.’

The whole time I’ve been listening, waiting, and now I feel my breath held tight inside me, because if I exhale I might blow those words away. Do you know what it feels like to have someone say something to you that you never dared hope they would say? To hear it put into words – that very thing you’ve been thinking too.

‘I thought you said you weren’t good with words,’ I say finally.

He smiles then. That lovely, slow smile of his that crinkles up the corners of his eyes, and I feel all warm and fuzzy with love and too many Cherry Bs.

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’

‘Though maybe not the mouldy teabags,’ I add and we both laugh, and just like that, all the stuff keeping us apart seems to disappear, and it’s just two people. On a dance floor. In a village hall. Somewhere in the middle of the Yorkshire Dales. And as the music plays and the tiny magical refractions of light from the glitter ball swirl around us, I loop my arms around Ben’s neck and rest my head against his chest, breathing in his scent as he holds me closer. I could stay like this for ever.