I carefully made my way below deck, which was a dumb move because we were sailing and I was queasy, which was exacerbated by the movement of the boat. There was no way I would be able to rest in our cabin, which was in the bow – I’d be tossed around. I made my way over the dining nook holding on to something the whole way, and lay down. It was in the middle of the boat, so if I was going to be below deck – and really, I didn’t feel like facing anyone – it was the best place to be.

As my body settled into the rise and fall of the boat on the water, I thought about what had just happened. And then I went back over everything I remembered about Josh and me together – the things he’d said, how sexy he was, how he made me laugh, what it felt like to be kissed by him, and how it stung to hear him talk about his life of bachelorhood. All of it.

And with tears rolling down my cheeks, I made a decision. As much as I was falling for the cute American boy, I could see there was no future with him. He was too young, too naïve about love and relationships, and too much of a boy. And, a grown man was waiting to see me when I got back to London, a man who wanted me – a man who’d been honest about that.

I decided that for the remainder of the trip, I would keep Josh at arm’s length. I would be his friend – friendly, but not girlfriendly. No more of that. I’d end up hurt, and he probably would too. We had four more days on the trip. I could keep my distance for four days. Better to hurt a little then, than a lot later on.

Somehow, remarkably, I fell asleep. I woke up when the boat engines roared to life. We must have been nearing port, which meant I had been sleeping for hours. Gingerly, I lifted my head and sat up. The headache and queasiness were gone. In my mind, I said a quiet thank you to the Greek gods.

‘Especially you, Dionysus,’ I said aloud.

Then I climbed the small ladder to the deck, and watched as the others hurried about hanging buoys off the starboard boat railings to provide a buffer between the boat and the dock. I would have offered to help, but they were almost done by the time I emerged. We were pulling up alongside what must have been the town’s main thoroughfare. Scooters and cars whooshed by on the waterfront street about five metres away.

‘Why aren’t we berthing at the marina?’ I asked.