‘Huh?’ I ask, my mind flicking through what I have in my diary – a weather-based school project for Barnaby that’s got to show all of the seasons and then a trampoline birthday party for his mate at the weekend; Chloe has ballet on Monday and then a softplay date on Tuesday, swimming on Wednesday, Bunny Hop on Thursday and Monkey Music on Friday. I’m pretty sure they’re the bare bones of the following week. I don’t think there are any ‘me’ plans that I need Rosie to sit for.

‘You’ve not forgotten? And usually I’m the one put in the dog house for that.’ Nick tuts, clearly pretending to be bemused.

‘Stop being annoying and tell me.’

‘It’s Valentine’s Day, of course.’

‘Oh.’

I hadn’t thought about it at all, which is strange as I’ve always loved the idea of being spoilt with romantic gestures and, at the very least, having a reason to get Rosie over and going out for some one-on-one adult interaction time with Nick. But Valentine’s carries an extra messy emotion this year as it would’ve been Pia’s thirty-third birthday.

My thoughts turn to Mike and how he might be feeling about the day looming ahead. I’m sure he couldn’t care less about the day full of hearts and cheesy poetry. I imagine that part of the Fourteenth has completely gone over his head. Instead the day will bring a very different heaviness.

Again.

‘Have you actually planned anything yet?’ I ask, knowing that he’s usually phoning around all my favourite restaurants at the very last minute in the hope of blagging a table, or asking if I have time to do it. Nick is ever the romantic who likes to plan ahead and show he’s making an effort. Not.

‘Yes!’ he says proudly.

‘Right …’

My voice is full of uncertainty, regret and doubt. I know Nick hears it because he sighs in response.

‘You don’t even have to say anything. I know what you’re going to say and yes. You’re right,’ he says, his low voice full of empathy. ‘Give Zaza and Mike a call and make plans with them.’

‘And you too? We can have Liam over and make a night of it.’

‘Yeah … Sure.’

‘Thank you, Nick.’

‘It’s only a day … and I’m sure La Trompette will have no trouble filling the table so hopefully I’ll get my deposit back.’

‘What?! You didn’t!’ I gasp, shocked that he’s remembered the French restaurant I must’ve mentioned at the end of last year in the hope that we’d one day go, but never really believed he’d take up the hint and book it himself.

‘No, I totally didn’t,’ he chuckles. ‘I absolutely would’ve left you thinking I did if you hadn’t asked, though. Think of the brownie points.’