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‘That’s fine, honestly. I don’t want you to think that––’

‘It’s a therapist, Scarlett, not a date.’

I widened my eyes, feeling foolish for about a second and then realising there was no need.

‘Did I hear that correctly?’ I said, shaking my head in astonishment. ‘You, Theo Winters, have voluntarily been going to therapy?’

‘What can I say? I’m a convert,’ he said. ‘I realised, after the retreat, that I’d been living a sort of half-life. Too scared to put my head above the water because I thought thatrelationships were difficult and unsafe and not worth the immense fear of being hurt.’

‘How’s it going?’ I asked gently. I knew how difficult it must be for him and how much this must mean he wanted things to change.

‘It’s tough, I won’t lie. Scary as Melissa was at times, she has nothing on my new therapist!’

Soft jazz music played in the background and with the sounds of cocktails being shaken and subdued chatter it felt like a good place to tell him how I really felt about him.

‘Have you given any thought to us? To what you want this to be?’ I asked, indicating the space between the two of us, the uncertainty around whether we were friends or something more or nothing at all.

He propped his elbow on the bar, really looking at me.

‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen for you, Scarlett. If I’m honest, it started six years ago and it’s never stopped, not really. And I came to Cambridge partly to make sure that you were OK, but also to finally tell you how I feel about you.’

‘But I thought––’

‘I know what we said, the pact we made,’ he said, reaching out to take my hand. ‘But this last couple of weeks without you has made me realise that having a professional relationship with you isn’t enough. I love writing with you, but I also love swimming with you, and walking on the beach with you and sweating it out in a sauna with you, and catching your eye in a crowded room because wherever you are, I can somehow always see you. All of that.’

I let myself take all of this in, but really I wanted to jump out of my seat and shout from the rooftops:He feels the same way I do! He’s in to me, too!

‘I was actually planning to say a version of the same thingto you,’ I said, reaching out to run my thumb over his cheek, like I’d thought about doing so many times before. ‘It was just taking me a bit longer to work up to it.’

‘No rush,’ said Theo. ‘These are big revelations we’re making, here. Melissa would be exceptionally proud.’

‘But how would it work? There’s so much riding on us putting the best book of our lives out there. Can we really risk complicating things?’

He nodded. ‘I know, and I’ve thought about that a lot. In fact I haven’t been thinking about much else.’

I smiled. ‘You’ve been procrastinating again, haven’t you?’

He grinned at me. ‘Caught red-handed.’

I laughed, reaching for him again.

‘Surely there must be other writing duos out there who are also a couple. Mustn’t there?’ I said, needing reassurance that it could work.

He nodded. ‘There’s a couple at my publishers who write romcom together. And I know two sets of siblings who co-write, although that’s a different dynamic, obviously, but still. It can work. And honestly? I’m prepared to do anything to make it happen. Because I want us to be together properly, Scarlett. As partners, not just as writing partners.’

And then he leaned in and kissed me, tentatively at first, making sure it was what I wanted. It was, obviously. I tangled my fingers up in his hair, kissing him back, inhaling his delicious scent and the achingly familiar feel of his hands on my waist.

‘I hear the bedrooms are very nice here,’ I said, breathless already. I wasn’t in to public displays of affection, plus I wanted to make the most of this moment and we could hardly do that here.

‘Mmmmn,’ he replied, taking my hand and pulling me up with him. ‘I should probably show you.’

His room was on the ground floor. We walked down a long glass-walled corridor to get there, my hand comfortingly in his.

‘This is me,’ he said, stopping outside a door and buzzing us through with his key card.

We were kissing again before the door even clicked shut behind us. He led me over to the bed, unzipping my dress as we went. I let it fall to the floor, kicking off my shoes, pulling his shirt out of his jeans, running my hands under the hem.

‘I wanted to do this every single time we walked back to our hotel rooms in Cannes together,’ he said, unhooking my bra strap with one hand.