“Yes sorry. Fucking iPhone,” he called over the running water. “It’s all in hand, I promise. The dinner WILL be ready in time.”

“Can I help?” I asked, not adding all the pass-agg extras I wanted to add, like “Everyone will be here soon,” and “I knew this would happen,” and “I can’t believe you’re making me go through with this dinner party after last night.”

“No, no. You’ve done enough by cleaning the place. Thank you. Just chill and relax.”

Of course, I didn’t chill or relax, and ended up helping because we didn’t have enough time. We squeezed together in the kitchen and I plopped deli olives into bowls, arranged crudités into circles, and decanted shop-bought dips into their own bowls to make them look posher. Still only in his boxers, Ben assembled a lasagna at startling speed.

“OK, we’ve got loads of time. Loads,” he lied. “Sorry again. Friday staff drinks spiraled. I kept trying to leave, but kept getting cornered by Matthew, droning on about the UCAS process. And I couldn’t tell him I needed to get home to a dinner party because that would highlight the fact we’d invited the rest of the department and not him.” He chucked some grilled zucchini onto the rectangle of tomato sauce and clicked some pasta sheets over it. Ben was at his best in chaos, thriving in it like it was an unruly classroom.

“Talk me through who’s coming again,” I asked, gently prodding his back to get access to the drawer I needed.

“So Douglas, my head of department, and his wife, Sophia. You’ll like her. She’s a clinical psychologist. She’s read your articles and says they’re really good.”

I smiled. He was right. I liked her already.

“And then Joanie, who works in the English department. She’s really nice. And her boyfriend, Frederick. I’ve not met him before. I get the feeling he’s a bit posh, but we’ll see.”

“I hope they don’t mind the ramshackle table situation.”

“Relax. People are just happy to be fed. It’s going to be great.” He planted a wet kiss on my lips. “Our first proper dinner party, Fern. It’s going to be great.”

I kissed him back, feeling a huge rush of love, despite everything. This felt so nice...feeding others, nesting, publicly declaring our relationship to important people that he worked with. “And, hey, tonight I get to finally meet Jessica,” he said, eyes wide. “It’s about time.”

I widened my eyes to match his. “It is indeed.”

“Is she going to tell me all the awful things you did as a teenager?”

I laughed. “With Jessica and me, that’s usually the other way around. She was always the crazy one, in that way. Whereas I was too busy being crazy in a different, mental health way.”