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I grin and jump up. ‘Sex is a gift I like to give you, but I’ve got something else. Close your eyes.’

‘Ooh, a gift.’ She sits up. ‘Okay. Closed.’

‘Keep them shut,’ I call as I dash into the bedroom and grab a canvas Dad and I placed under the bed earlier while Mum and Chandice distracted Holly. I carry it along the short hall back to the lounge. ‘Still shut?’

‘Yep.’

I pad across the carpet and rest it on the mantel, then strip off the covering. ‘Okay. Open.’

Holly opens her eyes and gasps, then stands and walks over to me. ‘No.’

I grin, dead pleased with myself. ‘Yes.’

She slides her arm around my waist and gazes at the painting. ‘Oh,’ she breathes. ‘I love it. But how?’

I wrap my arm around her shoulder and look at the painting of Holly and me lying on her bed in a Berlin university dorm, staring into each other’s eyes. ‘Katarina did it.’

Holly’s mouth drops open. ‘Katarina? The artist who did that incredible painting for your Berlin exhibition?’

‘Uh-huh. As soon as you showed me that photo I knew I wanted it as a painting, and when you came back to London, I contacted Katarina straight away and she?—’

Holly kisses me. ‘I love it.’

The doorbell rings.

I groan. ‘Jazzy’s always early.’

‘I’ll get it,’ Holly says, heading to kitchen to buzz them in. After a few seconds, she wanders back in, still smiling.

‘What?’ I say.

‘You.’ She pulls me to her and gives me a lingering kiss.

I moan and slip my fingertips under the waistband of her jeans.

‘Oops. Soz,’ Jaz says. ‘Want us to come back in five?’

I grunt and pull away. ‘Why are you always fucking early, Jazzy?’

‘Don’t mind us,’ Leila says, trailing behind Jaz. ‘We’ll just go in the kitchen and have a drink.’

‘Won’t take you long, yeah?’ Jaz says. ‘A few minutes?’

Holly laughs. ‘More like a few hours.’

‘Sure, Hols,’ Jaz says.

‘She can wait,’ Holly says. ‘Come in. Sit down. You’ll have to use boxes as tables.’ Holly empties the rest of the cushions and turns a box upside down, pushing it towards the sofa.

Leila sits and looks about. ‘This is really nice.’ She clocks the painting. ‘Oh my God, is that’ – she gestures to Holly and me – ‘you two?’

‘Aw,’ Jaz says. ‘It turned out amazing.’

Leila looks at her, and Jaz nods towards the painting. ‘That’s when they first met all those years ago. It’s been painted from one of Holly’s photos. Look how in love they were.’

Leila clutches her chest. ‘Naw. I love love stories.’

I grin at Jaz who gives a bashful smile. She’s well love struck.

Holly returns from the kitchen holding up some plastic tumblers. ‘It’s all I can find.’

‘That’ll do,’ Jaz says, unscrewing the cap from a wine bottle and filling the cups. She passes them around and holds one up. ‘Cheers to your new home.’

Leila holds her cup up. ‘And to the next stage of your life together.’

Holly and I exchange a loving glance. ‘We’ll drink to that.’

The hours pass as we drink, talk and eat takeaway. I look at the painting leaning against the wall, the memory of Holly photographing us still vivid in my mind. I see the connection that she wanted to capture forever – a connection I could never truly run from. My being fills with joy and peace and love – for life, for Holly and for our future, whatever that looks like.