“Yes,” she breathes, and I feel my shoulders lighten. “I felt it.” Her smile is knowing, and I match it. That’s it. No more. Let’s end it on that high for now.

“Eat your breakfast,” I order gently, and she begins to pick her way through her plate, quiet and thoughtful. I won’t ask what those thoughts are, but I hope she’s concluding what’s true amid the unknown lies shrouding me. She’s special. “We need to buy you a dress for The Manor’s anniversary party.”

She looks up at me, pulled from her daydreams. “I have plenty of dresses,” she says tiredly, going back to her bagel.

I expect she does, but I’d like to buy her a new one. Something special. Like her. “You need a new one,” I declare, and her shoulders drop. She’s exasperated? “Anyway, I owe you one.”

“Do I get to choose?” she asks, looking at me with a fixed glare as I move a piece of hair from her mouth.

“Of course. I’m not a complete control freak,” I say in jest, because I know she thinks I am.

Her body jerks. “Jesse, you’re really very special.”

“Not as special as you.” I smile cheekily, and she shakes her head. “Are you ready to hit Camden, baby?”

She goes to her bag, and I watch in disgust as she places some money on the table. What is this? I’m insulted. I stand and replace it with some cash, snatching her bag and stuffing her money inside. She’s taking this whole independence thing too far now. Way too far. What has—

I’m distracted from my grievance when her mobile rings, “Mum” flashing up on the screen, and I grab it and answer. Don’t ask me what the hell I’m playing at; I couldn’t tell you. And Ava’s jaw hitting the table is a clear sign she’s wondering the same thing.

“Hello,” her mum says, and I smile, thinking she sounds so similar to Ava. And, actually, quite young.

“Mrs. O’Shea?”

Ava’s recovering jaw plummets again, and she swipes at me, trying to win her phone back.

“Oh, who’s this?” her mother asks, as I dive out of Ava’s reach.

“I have the pleasure of being with your beautiful daughter.” I suddenly comprehend the reason why my instinct had me hijacking this call. Win her mother over. It’s common knowledge that if a man can win a mother’s approval, he’s halfway to a happy ever after.

“How lovely. I’m Ava’s mother.”