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‘Kat. Hey.’ Chris waves up at me. ‘I thought I’d swing by and congratulate you. I heard you won European Publisher of the Year.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘There are pictures of you in all the newspapers, being carried on stage by your team. You’ve caught the public imagination. Triumph over adversity and all of that. The female chief exec with MS wins the top prize during a flair-up. Andstillgets up on stage. Congratulations.’ He examines the wine. ‘Shall we have a celebratory drink? It’s a good wine. I got it from Waitrose.’

‘What are you doing here, Chris?’

Chris clambers to his feet. He’s wearing a black, wool coat that looks surprisingly professional, his skin is clear, and his eyes aren’t bloodshot. In short, it looks like he’s stopped drinking at lunchtime and started a skin-care routine.

‘Minola and I got divorced.’

‘Don’t you mean you’regettingdivorced?’ I say. ‘You can’t be divorced already. You only just got married.’

‘No, we are divorced,’ says Chris. ‘We agreed to absolve the marriage. It was the fastest, cheapest route out. The last few weeks have been absolute hell, but it’s over. Now I just need to turn my life around and win you back.’

I laugh. ‘Excuse me, Chris. Would you mind getting off my doorstep? It’s cold and I want to get inside.’

‘Yeah. Of course. Sorry.’ Chris gives me big, brown puppy dog eyes ‘I messed everything up, Kat. It took me marrying a twenty-year-old to work out how much you meant to me. And by the time I realised, you’d become this beautiful, successful businesswoman. When I saw you at Ascot, I was intimidated. I admit it. I behaved like a massive arsehole. But then I realised, what I need to do is grow up. Improve myself. Be worthy of being in your orbit. Get a career and a house and do all the things I should have been doing for years to deserve you.’

‘Don’t you think you should have realised those thingsbeforeyou married Minola?’

‘Look, I’m not saying this is your fault. But you never asked anything of me, Kat. I could be a child and you paid the bills. It was my fault too. Obviously. But I never had a reason to grow. Now I do. Seeing what you’ve become … I can change too. And I should. Whether you take me back or not.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that sort of apology. It’s been a long time coming.’ I push past Chris and open my front door, treading on letters and takeaway leaflets as I struggle inside.

‘Can we at least talk?’ Chris asks. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours.’

‘Why don’t you find a park bench somewhere and crack open that wine?’

‘I don’t want to be that guy anymore.’ Chris’s eyes follow me, shining and sincere. ‘A drinking on park benches kind of guy. I want to be a one or two glass a week kind of guy with a job and kids and I’m trying so hard but … I can’t do it without you, Kat.’ Suddenly, he bursts into tears.

‘Oh god.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t leave a crying man on my doorstep. Come on in.’

‘Thank you.’ Chris looks around at my luggage. ‘Can you walk okay? Let me help you with your bags.’

‘Wow.’ I stare at him. ‘You really have changed.’

Inside my kitchen, Chris takes two wine glasses from the cupboard, pours a glass from his bottle of red and hands it to me. I stare at him, dumbfounded.

‘Well, that’s a first.’

‘What?’

‘You just poured my drink before yours.’

‘Have I never done that?’

‘No. Never. Sometimes, you downed your drink before I even got around to pouring my glass.’

‘God.’ Chris shakes his head. ‘I’ve been such an arsehole.’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s different in here? Things have moved around.’

‘I hired a housekeeper,’ I say. ‘Then let him do his job, instead of feeling guilty and trying to do it all for him. He put up the Christmas lights and the wreath and cut back the garden and put that Christmas tree over there and … you know, all those little touches.’

‘I loved it when we lived together.’ Chris fills his wine glass. ‘It was always so organised. Living in a camper van for months on end makes you realise why most people live in houses.’