The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and butterflies wait to take flight in my stomach at the first sign of me changing my mind. It used to feel like this with Leon, in the beginning, when we were still exploring each other. I’d wanted to bottle that spine-tingling sense of anticipation, desperate to cling on to it once the newness had worn off, knowing that the months and years that followed would invariably be filled with the void of what we once had.

When had that excitement drained from our relationship? When had we lost that spontaneity? Had it happened overnight? Leaving behind the depressing possibility that the only way we could relight a flame inside ourselves was by meeting someone new. Someone like Jacob.

‘I’m married,’ I say, as if it’s the only reason I’m turning him down. Though now I think of it, I can’t come up with another.

‘I’m not asking you to do anything to jeopardize that,’ he says. ‘I just don’t want to be alone right now.’

‘Jacob, I—’

‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’ he blurts out, as if saying it faster will lessen the gravitas of his admission.

I look at him and a switch flips in my head, though I can’t help but flinch that it’s my reputation rather than my marriage that has made me see the light. I pull myself up, standing tall in the hope that he can see me for who I am, rather than the saviour he’s made me out to be. ‘Listen, I know that’s how it might feel at this moment in time,’ I say. ‘But you’re just out of an abusive relationship and you’re looking for someone to make you feel safe again.’

‘You do that,’ he says. ‘I can be myself with you.’

‘But you’ll feel that way with lots of people once you leave behind the scars of your marriage.’

He shakes his head.

‘Believe me,’ I say, taking his hand in mine. ‘You’re a good man, with so much to offer the right woman. But don’t confuse our relationship for anything more than what it is. I’m your therapist who is helping you out in your time of need.’ The words sound brutal on my tongue, but sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

‘So all this time you’ve been leading me on to appease your ego?’

‘What?’ I say, aghast. ‘Of course not. I—’

‘The way you look at me, the things you say . . .’

‘If I have ever given you cause to think there was more to this than a professional relationship, then I am truly sorry.’

He buries his head in his hands and laughs cynically. ‘There’s a name for women like you.’

‘Don’t,’ I warn. ‘That’s not fair.’