“A midlife crisis,” she repeated, because it was the only sensible explanation. Hopefully, now she’d pointed it out, he would see that she was right, and she’d be spared the indignity of having to explain it. “I know you’re not middle-aged, but you’re an actor so you’re having it early to be dramatic.”

“I’m not an actor.”

She frowned. “Don’t put yourself down. I know you’re not producing the pinnacle of cinematic art, but your films make people happy, and you’re a very believable superhero.”

He grinned at that and flicked her a look as they turned into the supermarket carpark. Those dark eyes sliced neatly past her every defence and hooked into all her secret soft parts, as per fucking usual. “Am I?” he asked. “Why’s that? Because I’m so naturally heroic?”

“Will.”

“Because I’m superhumanly handsome?”

“Will. Could you focus, please?”

“Oh yeah, on my midlife crisis. Would you mind explaining it to me?”

Yes, she thought, glaring daggers at the side of his head. “Certainly not,” she said, trying to sound unperturbed. “You and I have known each other for decades. If we were remotely compatible, we would’ve noticed by now. Your newfound feelings of affection, therefore, are the result of general attraction—which, in my opinion, means nothing—familiarity, proximity, and the aforementioned crisis.”

Will brought the Corsa to a sudden, abrupt standstill. The car behind them beeped, loud and long. Will ignored the racket as he turned to face Abbie, his expression a picture of astonishment. “Wait. So. What’s happening right now is you’re really, actually saying my feelings for you are … a crisis?”

Feelings for you. She really wished he’d stuck with the toothlessness of like. “Will,” she said flatly, “drive.”

He stared at her for another moment before shaking his head with a despairing air and driving again. “Incredible. Fucking incredible.”

His apparent surprise and mysterious mumblings were throwing off the nice, sensible conclusions Abbie had drawn for herself, so she decided to ignore them. “The trouble is,” she ploughed on, “you and I have different approaches to romance. You like your relationships simple and light and temporary—”

“Do I?” he murmured, apparently to himself, as he chose a space at the edge of the car park.