‘I got buddied up with this kid from the digital department and had to play babysitter all day. He’s a total pain in the arse, actually.’

‘I bet.’ Dean’s gaze drops to the floor.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Dean?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just Isabelle worked on that case, you know.’

Oli tilts her head, trying to read his body language. ‘Yes, I covered the story. Don’t you remember?’

He ignores her question. ‘It really broke her.’

Oli goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. Gulps it down thirstily before saying, ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘She was under a lot of pressure. I was really worried about her.’ He reaches for Oli’s hand. ‘I worry about you too.’ Little sparks of electricity run through her as he strokes her palm, traces his finger up her wrist. There’s something oddly pleasurable about being compared to Isabelle, having Dean pair them in this way.

‘I’m not a cop, Dean,’ she says gently. ‘It’s totally different. Plus, I don’t even know if the case will be officially reopened. It might be a dead end.’

He dips his head and gives a small nod, then nudges her legs open, standing between them. Her limbs give way, and he presses his pelvis into hers. ‘I know, I know. It’s just … Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes this feels like a second chance. I can be a better husband than I was back then.’ He stares into her eyes. ‘A better person. You know what I mean.’

Oli casts her mind back to their secret dates, their secret emails and texts. The primal intensity of it all. She was obsessed with him. She hung on to any suggestion that his marriage wouldn’t last. She spent half her waking life waiting for him to call. Every text triggered a mild panic attack. Even though she’d expected it, the emotional gut-punch when he told her he couldn’t see her anymore was brutal. She barely ate, barely slept, and walked around in a haze for months, unable to purge herself of him. Disoriented and broken, she wondered if she might not survive.

And now, impossibly, she has unfettered access to him. She’s living her own fantasy.

His voice cracks. ‘I’d be lost without you, Oli, and so would the girls. You’re so important to me.’ His fingers massage the back of her scalp as he kisses her gently.

She closes her eyes and tries to let herself melt into him, conscious of Nathan in the other room.

Dean’s lips nuzzle at her ear. ‘Now you’re finally mine,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t lose you.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she says, staring at her reflection over his shoulder in the mirrored splashback.