Fortunately, he was wearing jeans and another heinously festive jumper, which was as interesting as his neon sportswear and bare muscles, but far easier to ignore. They spent a solid forty-five minutes in blessed, relieving silence, silence so complete and pure that she almost believed he might have already gotten over his temporary attraction to her.

Then he ruined everything by asking, “So. About that thing I said before…”

She tossed him a what now? look of exasperation and dug the fingers of her left hand into her seat, where he couldn’t see. “Yes?” Please don’t bring it up. Please don’t bring it up. This is the perfect moment for us both to silently agree that we will forget all about it and never ever bring it up.

“Er…” He shrugged, then offered a hopeful smile. “You don’t seem horrified.”

“No,” she lied.

“Or deeply offended.”

Debatable. “No,” she said, but it was kind of another lie. Some part of her wanted to be upset by the trouble he’d caused over a little liking, though she knew it was irrational. This wasn’t his fault. Will didn’t realise that he wasn’t serious, and he didn’t understand that Abbie couldn’t be anything but serious—intimidatingly so, unnervingly so, ruinously so.

She’d have to teach him as much, however. Because there were rules to living safely. And the last time Abbie had broken those rules, the last time she’d let her reckless emotions make decisions for her, she’d landed herself years of toxicity, one hell of a divorce, and a huge therapy bill in return. Her romantic feelings were much safer in lockdown, where she preferred to keep them.

“Okay.” Will was nodding. “Okay. Well. I said you didn’t have to answer right away, and I meant it, so, er, I should probably stop fishing for answers now and we will … keep on being silent.”

Abbie knew for a fact that Will hated being silent, which was probably why his statement doused her in a sudden and unexpected flood of guilt. Really, there was no need to drag things out. He had the sort of easy, loving character that made him susceptible to meaningless crushes, and the sooner she explained that to him and encouraged him to shake it off, the sooner things could go back to normal. So she might as well get it over with, even if, for some reason, her lungs sort of twisted and wheezed at the thought.

Asda’s lime-green-and-white facade loomed in the near distance as she said, “I’ve decided you’re having a midlife crisis.”

Will stared at her for a beat too long and failed to see when the traffic lights changed.

“William,” she said sharply.

“Shit.” He hit the accelerator. Then he said, his voice laced with incredulity, “I’m having a what?”