‘And me. I’m Tove,’ Tove said, leaning in. ‘I’m her pimp too.’

‘Actually, I’d say you’re the chief pimp, Tove,’ Marc deadpanned.

They all looked back at Mats, who was motionless and open-mouthed, before collapsing into fits of hysterics. ‘Uh . . .’

‘They’re messing with you,’ Bell laughed, slapping a hand on his chest and leaving it there. He looked down at it – and back at her again. ‘It’s just an inside joke.’

‘Right. Well good,’ he smiled. He stepped in closer to her, encouraged by her initiation of body contact, and she sensed the others draw back as their conversation became more intimate. ‘. . . So, it’s funny running into you like this. I was really hoping I’d see you again,’ he said quietly. ‘Did you read my note?’

‘Of course.’

‘And were you going to call me?’

‘. . . Of course.’

He gave a mock-outraged gasp. ‘You weren’t!’

She laughed. ‘I was! I was!’

‘I don’t believe you!’ he protested, grinning anyway.

She leaned into him slightly, pressing her curves gently against him. ‘Does it matter? We’re here now, aren’t we?’

The question was coquettish, and he stared down at her for a moment, a question in his eyes that she answered with a look in her own. She was wildly drunk and she didn’t care who knew it. Him, the whole bar . . . Nothing mattered anyway. Not really. She had made the first move and it was his call whether to respond or not.

He bent his head and kissed her – just like that. It was that easy. His lips were chapped and a little rough, but she didn’t mind; it was better than being kept hanging in mid-air.

‘Attagirl!’ she heard Tove yell, and someone – Kris – gave a two-fingered whistle.

‘Pimps or cheerleaders?’ Mats grinned as they pulled apart.

‘Both!’ she giggled, feeling woozy and silly and like she was on an unstoppable train.

He kissed her again, emboldened now. ‘I wanted to do that all day yesterday.’

‘Did you?’ she breathed, remembering how Emil had stared up at her from her lap all the way back, her hands stroking and cradling his face as she told him it would all be okay . . . What a joke.

She could still see him so clearly, even now, like he was right there –

He was right there.

‘Boss!’ She felt Mats stiffen with the surprise, his hands falling from her waist.

Hanna, Emil and Linus were standing on the other side of the fencing that partitioned off the sea bar from the boardwalk. Judging by their collared shirts, she could tell they had come from having dinner in the hotel.

‘Mats,’ Emil said back, staring at them evenly – before remembering his manners. ‘This is Hanna, my w– . . . Linus’s mother.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Hanna said quickly, her eyes darting to her son like a dragonfly on the river. ‘I think we passed by each other in the house yesterday? I’m sorry if I was rude, rushing like that. I’ve heard a lot about you.’