‘What exactly have you been drinking?’

He doesn’t respond to that. ‘Work hard, play hard, jump off a cliff now and then.’

‘Okay, I give in, what are your three?’ He might have a point though. I’d never call Robbie a doormat, but he had been what I’d thought was the perfect guy for me. And look what happened there. He sloped off to Wales and found sheep.

‘Confident, brave, fun. Like you.’

I ignore the ‘like you’ bit. ‘Not sexy?’

‘Sexy comes with the other three. Have you not been listening to a word of today’s lesson, Rosie-Posie? Tut, tut. Right, I dare you to close your eyes and the next drink you point at on the menu is your pick.’

‘I’ll be drunk.’ I grin back at him.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does, I have—’ I’m about to say ‘a date’ tomorrow, but something stops me. I don’t want to spoil the mood. ‘Work tomorrow!’

‘You’ll be fine. Right next question.’ He pauses, then looks me straight in the eye. ‘What would you do if somebody cheated on you?’

‘Walk away.’ My shoulders stiffen. There are some things in life I have solid views on, and this is one of them.

‘No backward glance?’

‘Never. Nothing. Just walk away.’ I motion to demonstrate.

‘But what if you’d made a mistake? What if they hadn’t actually cheated? You just thought they had? Or what if they’d just made a horrible—’

‘One, I’d ask them straight out, so I’d know I hadn’t made a mistake, and two, cheating on somebody is not a mistake. If you love somebody you don’t do it, do you?’

‘True.’

‘It’s disrespectful, cruel, hurtful. It can ruin somebody’s life.’

He puts a finger under my chin, looks into my eyes. ‘Don’t ever let anybody ruin your life, Rosie. Only you have permission to do that.’

‘That’s an odd thing to say.’

‘It’s true. It’s your life, make the rules, change the rules, do whatever it takes.’

‘Do you?’

‘Always. Right, next question.’

We chat about dates, good dates, bad dates, about my fear of flying, and his spider phobia. Light fun, nothing serious or tricky, and it’s as easy as chatting to Bea.

‘So, you approve of my makeover?’ I’m not fishing for compliments. Okay, I might be a bit. But somehow, it’s important what he thinks, that he does find me sexy. Not because of him, of course, but that if he does then somebody else might.

‘It was a few tweaks, not a makeover.’ He twiddles a strand of my hair in his fingers, so that it tugs ever so slightly at my scalp and sends a funny feeling surging through my body, which shocks me so much I freeze. I vaguely remember a sensation like this, a hollowing of my stomach, a feeling of delicious anticipation. It was the first time Robbie and I had a proper grope in the porch at my parents’ house. Before Mum switched the light on and asked if we were going in ‘before we caught our death’. After that all I felt was that it was nice and meant to be. Not quite the same. ‘You’re practically perfect as you are.’ He is still twiddling, and his mouth is so close to my neck I can feel the warmth of his breath, and I forget about Robbie and squirm a bit.