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Jaz’s cheeks flush. ‘I know.’

‘You should probably tell her instead of me, though.’

‘Oh, like how you and Casey tell me instead of each other, you mean?’

I chuckle. ‘Yeah, something like that.’

Jaz heads back to Leila, and I look at my final photo. Aunty Carol and Kate sharing a pot of tea and a lemon drizzle cake on a wet Sunday afternoon. Kate gazes at her mother lovingly as Carol talks about her week. The window behind them is splattered with rain drops and it adds a depth of coziness to the image. It’s a tender moment – a strong mother and daughter bond that’s reminiscent of Mum and me.

An ache rises in my chest. ‘This one’s for you, Mum,’ I whisper. A shiver runs over my skin and I rub my arms, blinking back tears.

I sense someone behind me. Even without turning around I know it’s Casey. Her woody scent, her warm touch, the way my body hums in response.

She wraps her arms around my waist from behind and kisses my temple. ‘Happy?’

I continue gazing at my photos. ‘So happy. Thank you for doing this for me.’

‘I just gave you some well-deserved wall space. The rest was you.’

I turn to take her in. She looks beautiful. She always looks beautiful, but tonight she has something extra about her – a brighter glow, proud, content, comfortable in her skin – and I feel myself falling for her all over again. ‘You’re glowing tonight,’ I say.

She laughs and lowers her lips to mine, then says, ‘I’m so glad you’re here with me. In London. In the gallery. In my life. I want moments like this together forever.’

My heart balloons. Words I’ve been holding off saying press on my tongue – words I didn’t want to say because I thought it was too soon – but when you know, you know. ‘I want moments like this forever, too, because I love you.’

She stares at me in disbelief then breaks into a wide grin. ‘You said it.’

‘I did.’

‘Maybe you should say it one more time to make sure I heard right?’

‘I love you, Casey Miller-James.’

‘Ditto, Holly Craddock.’ Then she kisses me.

I sink into her and the magic of this moment, surrounded by inspiring art, our wonderful friends and families, twinkling decorations and Christmas music, and I know this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

Epilogue

Casey, London

Eight months later

Holly and I have been lugging boxes and furniture up and down stairs for the past couple of hours, moving it all into our new home – a new block full of modern one and two-bedroom flats in Bethnal Green.

Eight months is my record for moving in with someone, but why wait when we’re both certain? I even asked Holly to marry me one night when we were at Mum and Dad’s and I’d had too many rum cocktails. She laughed and said, ‘Don’t be stupid.’

My face fell and Holly’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh, God. You’re serious?’

I shook my head. ‘Not really. I just thought you might want that.’

She slipped onto my lap and held my face. ‘No. I think we’re good how we are. Don’t you?’

I kissed her, heady with rum and love, my mum cooing at us across the kitchen table. ‘I do,’ I said. ‘But how about we … maybe, if you want, like … move in together? We spend most nights together anyway.’

Holly stroked my cheek. ‘That’s exactly what I want.’

Mum dabbed the corner of her eye. ‘You two.’