Page 61 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

‘It’s hard enough not being able to access the funds yet – but having to ask the woman you love if you can borrow money? It’s embarrassing frankly.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’

But still he’s refusing to look at me and is staring down at his feet, the muscle in the side of his jaw twitching. The atmosphere has changed and I kick myself. We were having such a nice time, cooking pasta, making up our own recipe, in our little bubble, and now it’s all spoiled.

For a moment I fear he might go, that the evening is ruined and then –

‘Look at you, taking care of me. I want to take care of you.’ Coming up behind me, he puts his arms around my waist. ‘I want to be the one looking after you.’

I feel my body relax and relief floods through me. Just as quickly as his mood blew up, it’s gone again, like clouds moving quickly across the sun. And now I’m back in the sunlight, bathed in his rays of sunshine and adoration.

‘Are you for real?’ I tease.

‘Pinch me.’ He laughs as I pinch him. ‘See.’

I laugh and fall back into his arms.

‘And we spend all our time together; it doesn’t make sense me renting my own flat.’

‘I still can’t believe you haven’t invited me over there.’

‘Because it’s still filled with boxes and the rest is still in storage. I never got round to unpacking. I meant to, but then I went to look for something to put on the walls and got a little distracted.’

I smile, flattered.

‘Am I distracting?’ I flirt.

He raises an eyebrow. ‘Very.’

‘Plus, I’ve been away a lot with work these last couple of months, scouting locations for this new movie.’

‘I’m not sure I’d call flying all over the world visiting exotic locations for film shoots work,’ I tease, and he laughs. ‘I still can’t believe someone gets paid to do that. Why did the career’s teacher never tell me about that job?’

‘Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it sounds. The jetlag is a killer. Not to mention, I hate leaving you.’

It’s true. Every time he packs a bag and leaves for the airport he insists he doesn’t want to go, that he misses me already and wishes he could stay.

‘It was different before, when I was married. Things were so bad at home, I’d relish going away, being able to leave, but not now. Now it kills me to even tear myself away to grate the parmesan.’

He nuzzles his face against my neck and I laugh, feeling his hot breath, and kiss his cheek before he makes his way across the kitchen to my large double fridge.

At first, when he went away, I suggested we video-call, but he was on some tiny island in Indonesia and the time difference made it too difficult, plus often he was out scouting remote locations and the WiFi was non-existent, so instead we had to make do with texts.

Though later he confessed he preferred it that way. ‘Seeing you will just make me miss you more. Make me realize how far away I am. Let’s just text. Or leave voice messages. I like hearing your voice last thing at night or first thing in the morning when I wake up.’ So now we leave each other voice messages and I listen to them when I’m in bed before I turn out the light or pull back the curtains. It’s amazing how close you can feel to someone who’s far away.

‘And then of course I’ve been visiting Mum,’ he says from across the kitchen.

I nod sympathetically. ‘I’d like to meet her one day.’

‘She’d love you. It’s just . . .’

I turn to see his face clouding and I stop stirring and go over to give him a hug.

‘What?’

His eyes water. ‘I’d hate you to see her like this. She’s just a shell of who she was. She’d hate anyone to see her like this.’

I nod sympathetically.