A tear falls and Will wipes it away. ‘Aww. You’re so sweet. Look at me, making you tear up.’ He leans in and kisses me. I fight down the rising panic and, after a couple of seconds, manage to relax into it. Nothing has changed between us, after all. I won’t let it. I’m not going to let Adam ruin everything.

He pulls back suddenly. ‘You smell different,’ he says.

The panic returns. ‘What?’ I stutter. ‘No, I don’t, it must be …’

‘You used my soap!’ he yelps. ‘That’s what it is! You smell like me. It’s weird.’

‘Is that OK? You weren’t here. It reminded me of you.’

He kisses me again. ‘Of course.’ There’s a pause. ‘I love you, Louisa.’

I kiss him back. ‘I love you too.’

Adam was right about the weather. When I look out of the window in the morning I can’t see a thing – the hotel is totally shrouded in fog.

‘Arses,’ Will says as he pulls back the bedroom curtain. ‘I guess you don’t want to go out in this?’

He looks down at me, still in bed, and gets back in, moving close to me and pulling me towards him. ‘I’ve got a better idea …’

I feel a lurch of panic. I managed to put him off last night by saying I was tired and had a headache. I can’t put him off forever, but right now I can’t face the thought of anything like that.

I kiss him chastely on the lips before leaping out of bed practically shouting: ‘No, I really do want to ski! I did so well yesterday and I want to show you.’ Right now, even skiing in terrible weather is a more appealing option than having sex. I wonder if I will always feel like this. It’s somehow difficult to imagine I won’t. Has Adam ruined that for me too?

Will laughs. ‘Wow, you certainly are full of surprises.’ He throws back the covers, stands up, and stretches. ‘Let’s do this then.’

I start to regret my decision as soon as we step out of the chalet. You can barely see more than two metres. It’s starting to snow and the wind is picking up too.

‘Any luck and we’ll be above the weather by the top,’ Will says cheerily as we pull the barrier down onto our knees on the chairlift. I smile weakly.

He’s wrong, of course. It is the same at the top, only windier. But that’s OK, I tell myself. I’m going to be fine. I know how to ski now. I can do this.

‘You all right with this?’ he asks. ‘If you’re not sure, we can get the bubble down. It’s just over there. I don’t mind, honestly. Whatever you want today.’