I tune back in to Stuart.

“We have four options.” He counts them off on his right fingers, starting with his thumb.

“One—we give in to the haters and doubters. You move out, have our baby alone and we take things slowly. We could come to some arrangement. Two—you end this pregnancy, which I have to make very clear is something I don’t want you to do.”

“Me neither.”

“Three.” He pauses. “We get married. Let’s prove to everyone that although it’s quick, although it’s not ideal circumstances, we have nothing to be ashamed of. That we intend to do the best for our children. Four,” he slots in quickly, “we move away. Set up a new life elsewhere.”

“Giving in to the haters and doubters,” I say.

I know he doesn’t want to move. I know the house was important to Nina. She wanted the children to be brought up in the place that she chose for them. There are really only two options. One, I go. Two, I stay.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says. “I didn’t realize how lonely I was until you came. I hold back because of Nina, because I loved her, because of guilt and maybe shame that I have feelings for you, which perhaps I should or shouldn’t.” He stops. “I’m babbling, I know.”

“I have feelings for you, too,” I say. “Watching you with the children, seeing how gentle you were with Deborah, your parents, lots of things. Nina wanted you to be happy—she told me as much. She said that she knew that you’d move on, that it was natural, and her main concern was that it was someone who would love the children, put them first.”

“It would have to be a very quiet wedding,” he says. “Out of respect.”

“I’ve been to enough flamboyant weddings in my time,” I say. “I’ve seen it all. Quiet works for me.”

Yet he takes out a blue jewelry box and slides it over the table.

“I was going to do this on the boat,” he says. “I wanted it to be special, despite the circumstances.”

Fresh guilt at my non-enjoyment of the boat trip hits.

I look around, hoping that no one is watching. The gesture feels off-kilter and I don’t want any witnesses to my discomfort. I know that he proposed to Nina in Ibiza. At the time, she didn’t take it seriously; it was just a holiday romance, an impulsive romantic gesture. But on her return, they flew to Verona and he proposed outside Juliet’s balcony. Them and thousands of other tourists, I remember thinking uncharitably at the time.

As I open the box, Stuart starts speaking quickly.

“It’s not an engagement ring. I wouldn’t know your taste or be presumptuous, but it’s something small, for now, to show my appreciation for all you’ve done.”

It’s a silver pendant, shaped in a teardrop and actually, I do love it. It’s perfect.

I relax on the drive home, close my eyes and allow myself to think that maybe it will all be okay until the word stability I read in his phone notes pops into my head.