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I leaned forwards first because selfishly I wanted Theo to be solid and upright and ready to steady me if I started pitching. But he must have had the same idea because all of a sudden there was tension in our arms and my biceps were burning as we pulled away from each other so that we were almost suspended in time and space. Theo’s hands were wrapped around mine and I was gripping his fingers so hardthat I knew it must hurt, but I was too scared to loosen my hold.

‘Now close your eyes and breathe . . .’ said Melissa.

Breathe? All I could think about was how much I was going to ache tomorrow. Even Harmony and Paul were making strange groaning noises next to us, which wasn’t helping. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that might signal to my body that I should relax. It was fine, Theo wasn’t going to drop me, that he could be trusted with. Everything else, not so much.

Melissa’s melodic instructions filtered into my ears.

‘Now rock back on your heels. Release your hands and curl up to standing, very slowly, one vertebrae at a time.’

My eyes remained closed as I returned to standing, relieved to have not embarrassed myself completely but also strangely exhilarated at having pulled it off. I dropped one of Theo’s hands immediately. The other one took longer to disengage – was it my imagination, or did his thumb stroke my wrist as I pulled my left hand out of his right one? If it did, it would have been an accident, obviously.

‘Now turn to look at your partner. Really look at them. And then I would like you to tell them in one word how that exercise made you feel,’ said Melissa.

Oh, come on. This was going too far, now. Doing stuff with my back to Theo had been bad enough but if I looked him in the eye, I was going to have to face every unwanted thought I’d had over the course of this disastrous yoga class; every bubble of heat, every tingle, every breath I couldn’t quite catch. I knew it didn’t mean anything, that anyone would have felt the same if they’d had a relatively (OK, hugely) attractive man pressed up against them for the best part of fifteen minutes. But once this class was over, I very much wanted to forget that any of this had ever happened.Sighing inwardly, I turned. It took me a second or two to find my focus, for us to make eye contact again. He looked flustered and a little red-faced, and I felt a jolt of embarrassment, because was it that I’d been too heavy? Because he’d taken the strain on that last exercise and I hadn’t been doing it right? But then I felt a bead of sweat rolling down my own temple and was reassured that yoga was clearly far more strenuous than I’d realised – I was one hundred per cent sure I looked hot and shiny, too.

When our eyes finally met, I realised this was the longest I’d looked at him for years. I held his gaze, even though my stomach was flipping about like one of those plastic fish you get in Christmas crackers that you watch curl and turn on your palm. It was his eyelashes I noticed first, how they were unbelievably long, framing the oval of his brown eyes, their tips touching the bottom arch of his brow.

He cleared his throat. ‘What’s your word?’

I chewed on my lip as I thought about it, not taking my eyes off him, wondering whether I might be able to think more clearly if I did.

‘Relieved,’ I said. That it was over, of course, but I presumed he knew what I meant.

He nodded earnestly.

‘And yours?’ I asked him, pleased that my part in this was done.

He furrowed his brow, looking directly at me with the trace of a smile. ‘Challenged,’ he said.

‘Sorry if I was putting too much strain on you. Or if I hurt you, or something,’ I mumbled begrudgingly. After all, I’d tried my best.

‘I didn’t mean physically, Scarlett,’ he said quietly.

‘Oh.’

Whathadhe meant, then?

Melissa rang her bell again, bringing an end to whatever it was this had been. The nine of us came together as a group – a more chilled group, I couldn’t help but notice – and did some stretching and then sat cross-legged in a circle and chanted Namaste several times. I had to admit, I reckoned that with a bit more practice I could get into this. Relaxation and exercise had fallen by the wayside over the last few years and I beat myself up about it constantly because I knew it was important, but every time I put a meditation app on or tried to go for a run I’d get a phone call from my dad or my sister or my brother or Alexa or Carla and the whole thing would be abandoned. Perhaps when I got home, I might try, somehow, to find some space for myself now and again.

Chapter Nine

We were silent on the walk back to the hotel. I wasn’t sure how to start a normal conversation after we’d just been touching each other in places I’d never imagined us to be touching ever again.

‘So we should probably catch up about the book,’ I said finally, as if my fingers hadn’t just been curled through his. As though I hadn’t secretly liked the way it had felt when Theo held me.

‘About that,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking about what worked for us last time.’

‘Yeah?’ I said, shuddering internally. ‘Last time’ was not something I chose to think about if I could help it.

‘Sharing our work early on was good,’ said Theo, holding the front door of the hotel open for me.

‘Did we do that?’ I asked, pretending I couldn’t remember. Of course I could remember. We’d spent almost every night together, shared every sentence, every character trait, every plot twist (he’d always been better at that than I had, but still).

‘You’d forgotten?’ he asked.

I thought I detected the tiniest nugget of disappointment, which was interesting. Had he imagined me pining for him, then? Had he thought I’d be raking over the details of the time we’d spent together, remembering every single moment of our writing journey?

‘Must have done,’ I lied.