I sink down on the bench, the whole side of my body pressing against his, and he lifts an arm and drops it around me with a heavy thud, tugging me into his side. I drop my head onto his shoulder, feeling lighter than I have in months. Everything feels so right here, whether it’s Noel or Peppermint Branches or Scotland in general, or just having a completely fresh start away from the rut I was in back in London.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks when we’ve both got our breath back.

‘About fate. About the auction. About my mum and dad and you, and if there was some external influence driving me to win that auction because I was somehow supposed to come here.’

He presses a kiss to my forehead, which makes me melt so much that I nearly slide off the wooden bench. His arm tightens around me and his head dips down to rest against mine.

‘I can’t describe the fog of grief I’ve been living in for the past two years, and the way you talked about it, the way you normalised it and made me feel understood … Having someone that I’m not afraid to talk to makes so much difference. Everything feels different. I love it here. And I’d have run away that first night if you hadn’t found me and made me stay.’

‘Nah, you wouldn’t. You had to stay just to prove how much of a twat I was on that first day.’ He shifts his head and looks down at me. ‘That was my plan all along, you know.’

I reach over and rub along the fraying seam of his butter-soft jeans that are so worn and faded they look like they could fall off at any moment. And there’s a thought for another day.

‘You gave me something back too, you know.’ He reaches over with his other arm and lifts my hand, his fingers playing with mine.

‘A second job that you don’t get paid for?’ I ask, because he’s been helping me out so much.

‘My heart.’

I try to look up at him but he doesn’t budge so I can’t make eye contact.

‘I’ve been dead for ten years.’

I almost laugh at the deadpan tone in his voice. ‘Well, you’re looking remarkably good on it. Sexiest zombie I’ve ever seen. Do brains taste nice?’