I shook my head. ‘You’re a doctor. I’m a fucking waitress. And not … not even a good one.’ I remembered that moment at the bar, not even being able to hold a glass. All the mistakes I’d been making. For weeks. Months.

‘So? That doesn’t matter to me.’

I opened my eyes and looked at him, trying to figure out if he meant it. If it mattered.

‘I’m going to die, Tom,’ I said finally. ‘Maybe not here. Not … but soon.’

‘You’re not, Cait.’

‘I am. I’m going to fall down some stairs or the air conditioner is going to fall off the wall and crush me or we’re going to get held up at gunpoint.’

He stifled a wince.

‘Or I’ll have an aneurism, from the smoking. Maybe I already have lung cancer, who knows? Or I’ll get knifed on the way home. Fall off your balcony. I’m going to die, so all of this is pointless, none of it matters, none of it.’

‘Cait.’ He was trying, so hard. ‘Please don’t.’

‘Are you going to save me?’ I looked at him. His face had changed, gone pale. ‘Stop the bleeding? Give me CPR? Talk me through it and tell me to hold on and that it’ll be okay?’

‘Caitlin. Stop.’ His voice rose, his hands up again, hovering in the air, shaking. I found his eyes. God. I wanted him. So much it hurt. So much.

Too much.

‘You can’t.’ I looked away. ‘I can’t.’

‘Caitlin.’

I felt a shock as his finger touched mine. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, nudging my hand away gently to see what was underneath. I pulled back, suddenly ashamed, felt the postcard bend as I shoved it into my apron pocket.

‘Nothing. Don’t.’

He sighed, shifted onto his heels.

‘I can’t do this.’ I said again. ‘I’m sorry. I thought I could. I thought …’

I wanted to. I closed my eyes and I could still see him in front of me and something I’d never felt charged through my bones. Warm. Urgent. Terrifying.

‘I have to be careful, Tom.’ My voice shook, and I begged myself to stop talking. ‘I’m different to you. I have to be careful. I have to be careful or everything will break. I’m not like you.’

‘Caitie.’ Still trying.

‘This is easy for you. You said so yourself.’

Tom hesitated. ‘I didn’t say it was easy.’

‘You did. You said it about Sophie.’

‘Cait.’ His voice caught. ‘I said it was too easy.’

I opened my eyes. He was looking at me, incredulous, almost angry.

‘You honestly think this is easy for me?’ He leaned forward and put his hands on my arms gently.

‘Do you?’ he asked again.

‘I don’t know.’

‘It’s not. Seeing you like this is—’

It’s why my dad left.

‘So, don’t.’