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I felt uneasy discussing my former relationship openly with Holly, but I also didn’t want to keep anything from her. ‘I did, but in the end it wasn’t the right kind of love.’

‘Mmm, sometimes we can’t see that until we’re out.’ Holly was lying on her bed and rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. ‘Maybe I would’ve done something similar in your situation.’

I gave her a grateful smile, knowing she was trying to make me feel less guilty. ‘Can I ask you about Lily?’

‘Oh, sure.’ She took a deep breath. ‘She was sleeping with someone she worked with.’ Her gaze shifted from the screen, and when it came back to me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. ‘I was suspicious for a while, just the way she spoke about this woman, the way her face would change when they talked; they seemed more than friends. I questioned her, but she brushed it off, told me I was being silly. I believed her, and I believed that she loved me too much to do anything like that. Then one day I went to meet her for lunch at work. It was her birthday. I wanted to surprise her, and I saw them together in a café next to her office.’ She paused. ‘They were sitting so close. Talking and laughing. And I knew. I confronted her that night and she admitted they’d been seeing each other for months.’

‘Shit, Holly,’ I said. ‘That must’ve hurt so bad.’

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. ‘I was devastated. I left that night, and she didn’t try to stop me. I think that hurt just as much. It was like she was relieved I finally knew, like it saved her having to tell me.’

My own guilt rose. ‘God, and I did the same thing to you.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s a totally different situation.’

‘Just so you know, I had never cheated on a partner before,’ I said. ‘Yes, I’ve slept around, but only when I was single. With Eva, we’d split when I slept with someone else, until you. I lost my head because it was you, but you can trust me, Holly.’

She gave a tentative nod. ‘I want to trust you.’

‘And I want to prove to you that you can.’

‘I know you do.’ After a beat, she said, ‘Let’s talk about something else, hey.’

‘Sure. What would you like to talk about?’

‘Tell me about work.’

I told her about Josanne’s job offer. She encouraged me to take it, but I had already decided it wasn’t the right time for me. If there was any chance of Holly and I building a life together, then I wanted that to be my focus. Job offers would come and go, but I’d never get another shot at us. I saw a shift in her when I said that. Her face relaxed, and she broke into a broad, beautiful smile that made her eyes sparkle.

Since that conversation, all I’ve had is a message saying that she was off to bed and she’d be busy the following day sorting the sale of her Mum’s house. I send her another text, grab my gear and lock the gallery doors behind me. It’s just gone six-thirty, but it’s already dark since the clocks went back last weekend. There’s an early November chill in the air, but since I’m only crossing the road to the pub I don’t bother putting on my jacket.

Inside, I’m surprised to not see Jaz’s head pop out from somewhere. I buy us drinks and head for a table by the window. I’m about to sit when Jaz rushes in and cuts in front of me.

‘All right, mate,’ she says, taking the seat facing the window.

I put the drinks down and take the seat opposite. ‘Okay, then. I guess you want to sit there.’

‘Cheers.’ She takes a gulp of wine. ‘Ahh, nice. I got a right thirst on, racing here.’

‘Where you been? You’re never late,’ I say.

‘Oh.’ She glances out the window, her eyes darting left and right. ‘You know, busy at work with the new job.’

I look outside and then back to her. ‘Why you being shifty?’

She scrunches her face. ‘I’m not.’

‘You are, but whatever.’ I clink her glass. ‘Cheers.’

Jaz raises her brows. ‘You’re chipper compared to this morning when you were sulking because Holly hadn’t replied to you.’

‘I’ve kept myself busy today, but she still hasn’t replied.’ I frown. ‘Bit worried all the past relationships talk the other night has scared her off. She hasn’t replied to any of my messages.’

‘How many have you sent?’

I scratch the back of my head. ‘Like, four … maybe five.’

‘Five in twenty-four hours with no replies? Fuck me, mate. I never took you for one of them clingy types.’