I snatch one down and pull open a drawer, riffling through for my faithful Alka-Seltzer.

“You don’t know where you keep your own glasses?”

“I’m learning,” I give the sachet a little shake. “My housekeeper tried to tell me, but I was a little distracted.” By you, I add in my head, mixing the powder in the glass with some water and taking it to her. I shouldn’t be offering a cure. I should be leaving her to suffer all day to increase the chances of her swearing off drink. She frowns at the glass. “Alka-Seltzer. It’ll sort you out within half an hour. Drink.”

She accepts willingly, closing one eye to focus on the glass, her hand shaking terribly. I know how that feels. Hate how that feels. I claim the glass and move in, lifting it to her lips, now keen to take away her pain. She downs it like she’s not hydrated for weeks.

“More?” I ask, and she shakes her head. I set the glass aside.

“I’m never drinking again.” She plummets forward, colliding with my chest, and I smile mildly as I caress her back, hoping for both our sakes she doesn’t.

“That would please me to no end. Promise me you won’t get in that state when I’m not around to look after you.” Or ever at all.

“Did we argue?”

“No, I submitted power temporarily.”

“That must have been a challenge.”

I smile at her sass and ping her bra strap. “It was”—she has no idea how challenging—“but you’re worth the effort.” And the stress, and the headache, and the whole heap of crazy she brings into my life. Burying my face in her hair, I silently beg her to forgive me for . . . everything.

Then on a deep breath, I lean back to get her in my sights, brushing a finger across the top of her lace knickers. “I love you in lace.” Something so simple but so sexy. So pure. And, apparently, so me. Her useless body reacts as always. So pleasing, even hungover. “Shower?” I ask, wanting to wash the toxic aftermath of her reckless drinking away once and for all.

She curls every limb around me, and it’s perfect. I take her to the bathroom and set her gently down, anticipation building within. It’s time to make up for last night. It’s time to bring her back to life. I quickly flip on the shower and return to her swaying form. She falls into me again and supporting her is so natural. “You are feeling sorry for yourself, aren’t you?” I lift her and place her on the vanity unit. “I have fond memories of you sat exactly here.” And now she’s back, exactly where she should be.

She lifts her heavy eyes up. “You finally got me where you wanted me, didn’t you?”