She frowned at the ‘our’, and notwithstanding her brain shrieking no, and all the arguments she’d assembled in a neat stack that now threatened to topple onto her, she sighed. He’d said ‘our hotel’. Her mouth opened to refuse again, but instead she heard herself say, ‘I’ll be there in a while.’

And here she was. Why am I doing this to myself? she asked herself for the millionth time.

He stood when he saw her enter and remained by the table – the same table – with her tea waiting, and the same waiter hovering nearby.

Zac came around to meet her, and instead of pulling out her chair he took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips, then kissed her palm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. Then he pulled her towards him, gently, slowly, watching her face, asking her with his eyes to trust him, staring into her soul as if she was the woman he loved more than life itself.

Oh, too, too cruel. I can’t do this. Her chest struggled to get enough air. ‘I can’t do rejection again, Zac. What are you doing?’ She stared at him for a second more and then, incredulously, felt the realisation crash in on her.

‘I remember,’ he said simply.

‘You’re back?

He nodded.

‘You remember?’ she asked again, afraid to believe.

Again he nodded. Her eyes stung and she blinked away the distortion of tears because she wanted to stare at him. To see in his face that it was true. He looked like he wanted to crush her to him, just as somebody cleared their throat, and they both glanced around at the interested breakfast diners.

Zac lifted his head, daring anyone to complain, and stepped closer to her. ‘My poor, darling Ava.’ He pulled her against his chest, wrapped his big, beautiful, loving arms around her, and for the first time in weeks she felt herself come alive. His smile made her want to melt. ‘I really did hope I would remember,’ he said, and his other hand came up and trapped her face to hold her still, as if he intended to infinitely savour the next moment. She held still, barely able to wait.

Their lips touched, ever so gently, and with the first warmth of his mouth, the first inhalation of his breath, her breath caught and held as she too remembered. When his mouth brushed hers again, and his hands slid down to pull her closer against him, all the memories rushed back because she knew this was what she’d hoped for.

‘I remember,’ he repeated, his voice low and vibrant. ‘I remember it all. Everything came back after Hana gave birth.’

‘Everything?’ She didn’t think she could believe this after he had sat here yesterday and said the opposite.