Isabelle’s death had rocked him, no doubt, but even that was a helpful twist of fate. He avoided a messy, reputation-damaging divorce and got to play the heroic solo father, eventually enticing Oli to replace a troublesome wife with one he thought would be far more obedient.

‘I’m sorry, Dean, but it’s not fixable with us.’

‘Because you want to have a baby.’

She suppresses a surge of anger. ‘No, that’s not why.’ She presses her fingers gently to her aching head, wanting to explain properly. ‘I don’t want to be yours.’ His brow furrows. ‘I don’t want to be your thing. I don’t want you tracking my every move, telling me what to do.’

‘I don’t want that either.’

‘I know you’ve been tracking the car, Dean.’

He lifts his chin, slightly defiant, but says, ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I just felt safer knowing where you were. Especially after what happened to Isabelle. Surely you can understand that?’

Despite the earnest look on his face, Oli knows that her safety isn’t the reason he wants to know her every move.

‘You want a woman who does what she’s told and is happy to turn a blind eye to whatever takes your fancy,’ she says softly. ‘It wasn’t Isabelle, and it’s not me.’

‘Oli, it’s always been you. Come on, you must know that by now.’

The years of longing flare. ‘Except when it wasn’t. Which was a really long time. No, Dean, I’m sorry, but it’s not what I want.’

He looks stunned. ‘Are you sure you’re thinking straight right now? This feels like something we should talk about when I’m home.’

‘I’m sure.’ She holds his gaze.

He swallows and sniffs, pulling at the end of his nose. ‘I have no idea what I’ll tell the girls.’

Oli tucks her hair behind her ears. ‘You should tell them the truth.’ She feels the question in her mouth, uncomfortable like cotton wool. But in the end, it stays there. Whether the girls are Dean’s biological children or not doesn’t change anything. She doesn’t need to know.

‘I can give you everything you want, Oli.’ His deep voice is firm, certain; the voice he uses for work calls, or when he’s at a restaurant ordering wine. The trademark conviction that she found so magnetic. ‘Everything,’ he adds.

‘You need to look after the girls,’ she says, her voice firm. ‘And yourself.’

His eyes turn red. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘I wish things were different,’ she offers. ‘I’m sorry this has to happen now, but it does.’

‘Oli, please.’

‘I’ve got to get going.’

‘Home?’

She shakes her head. ‘To Lily’s. I was going to leave before all this.’

He visibly deflates. ‘What about your things?’