‘I thought he said it was lovely to see you again?’ Emily’s brows are knitted together, and she doesn’t take her eyes off him.

‘You know how these places are, Em, they welcome you like an old friend, and then you spend more money with them. He’ll probably ply us with wine all evening.’ He feels a bead of sweat gather at the corner of his temple. Why hadn’t he just told Emily they were going somewhere else for their honeymoon, or even just confessed that he’d been there with Caro and let Emily make up her own mind? It’s too late now. He changes the subject, keen to avoid any confrontation. ‘Hungry?’

‘A little.’ Emily’s voice is quiet. She’s been subdued since they got on the plane yesterday morning, the morning after the wedding. Rupert had thought that perhaps she was hungover, that’s why she’d been so quiet, but now it’s two days since the wedding. No hangover lasts that long, and surely she can’t still be annoyed about the mistake with their first dance song, can she? After all, it was only the first few bars of music, and none of the other guests even seemed to notice it.

‘Maybe we should start with a cocktail?’ Rupert suggests, waving over a waiter and ordering two rum punches before Emily can respond. ‘We are on holiday after all.’

‘Rupert…’ Emily starts to speak, before the waiter returns with menus, giving them both a run-down on what the specials are. Rupert orders for them both – salted cod – and when the waiter finally leaves, he waits for Emily to speak. She looks a little pale under her tan, but that might just be the lighting; Rupert isn’t sure. He feels a tiny wave of panic rise in his chest. Is she about to tell him they’ve both made a terrible mistake? He can’t let her go, not now, not after he’s finally found what he’s been looking for.

‘Rupert—’ Emily clears her throat, then sips at her cocktail, wincing at the burn of rum on her tongue. ‘There’s something I should probably tell you. I wanted to wait until after the wedding…’

‘What is it?’ Rupert puts his cocktail down and leans across the table, avoiding the strategically placed candle, to grasp her hand in his. ‘Emily, whatever it is, it’s OK.’

Her face is serious as she lets him squeeze her fingers, before sliding her hand delicately away, her right hand going to her wedding ring to twist it on her finger. ‘It’s quite a big deal, Rupert. I’m not sure how you’re going to react.’