‘Fancy a quick drink?’ Jeremy said.

‘Why not,’ Anna replied, not quite ready to go home yet. She’d rather she got rid of this weird, shadowy feeling – like an emotional hangover from the movie – before she returned to her house alone.

The recent rain cast a glossy sheen on the night, reflecting streetlights in puddles as they walked to a bar just around the corner from the cinema. As they waited for someone to serve them, Jeremy slid an arm around Anna’s waist and pulled her closer, a casually affectionate gesture that made her freeze.

It was nice to feel the warmth of his arm around her back, his hand resting lightly on the top of her hip, but that… That was it. There was no lovely rush of excitement, no sweet ache beginning to build inside. What had the butterflies done? Flown to warmer climes for the winter?

Jeremy ordered himself a red wine and Anna went along with his choice, her brain too full to survey the dizzying menu of cocktails. She stood there next to him, staring at the polished wood of the bar.

‘Is that… Is that what you want from a relationship?’ she asked, shifting so his arm fell away and turning to face him. ‘What they had in the film?’

He smiled at her. ‘Well, I’d rather not lose a leg like he did, but other than that, yes, of course. Isn’t that what everybody wants? Love? Passion?’

She nodded. ‘I suppose they do, but…’

‘But?’ Jeremy’s eyebrows lifted. He was still smiling.

Anna swallowed. ‘I don’t know… Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m not sure it happens twice in one lifetime. I’d hoped it might, but now… I’m really not so sure.’

That would explain the lack of butterflies, the lack of any deeper feelings for Jeremy, despite the fact that Teresa was right – he was pretty damn near perfect for her. She’d been telling herself it was okay, she was just taking it slowly, but surely things shouldn’t have flatlined already. Six weeks into the relationship with Spencer, she’d been head over heels in love.

Jeremy’s expression turned more serious. ‘What are you saying, Anna?’

That was a very good question. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, to probe if she really could trust this new certainty forming in her heart.

‘I think I’m saying that I’m not the right person for you, Jeremy. I thought I could be. I thought I could at least try, but…’ She trailed off and shook her head, aware that the back of her nose had started to prickle.

‘You want… that.’ She gestured in the direction of the cinema. ‘The whole deal. And you deserve it! I just… I just don’t think I have enough left in the tank to do that again, even if I wanted to.’

Her Not Spencer alarm had been right all along. She should have listened to it.

Not to save herself from pain or to preserve Spencer’s memory, but to save Jeremy from having to wear his current expression of disappointment and surprise. He’d begun to invest in her emotionally, she suspected, and it really wasn’t fair to let him continue. She likely wouldn’t ever be able to give him what he really wanted and needed. It was time to tell him that, to be just as honest with him at the end of their relationship as she had been the first day they’d met. She took a sip of her wine and began what she knew was going to be a really uncomfortable conversation.