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As Edward talked about how he’d loved swimming since he was a boy, I began to relax.

I was starting to see why we’d been matched. He’d already ticked several of my boxes: decent-looking, good job, lived in London and we shared a similar hobby. High-five to the matchmaking experts.

Soon after, our food arrived and I swear the fresh ear-shaped pasta, which apparently was calledorecchietteand was typical for this region, was the best pasta I’d ever tasted.

‘How long have you been single?’ I asked.

I hoped it would come up naturally but it hadn’t and I didn’t want to pussyfoot around. I wanted to know more about his dating history.

‘About a year and a half.’

‘If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your ex?’

‘Chardonnay was a brilliant girl: super attractive, fun, we got on like a house on fire and the sex… our chemistry was amazing. But we just wanted different things.’

‘How so?’ I didn’t want this to sound like an interview, but I’d wasted so much time on dating the wrong men, that I’d rather know sooner rather than later whether we were on the same page.

‘I’m thirty-eight, so I wanted to settle down and have a family whilst I’m still fit enough to play with the kids. She was in her twenties so she wasn’t ready for that.’

OMG.

He was thirty-eight. I’d said I wanted a man that was older than me because he’d be more likely to be ready to settle down.

And he wanted kids.Plural.

Tick and double tick.

The Love Hotel experts had delivered exactly what I’d asked for.

‘A similar thing happened to me. I was dating a guy for three years but he could never make up his mind about what he wanted. I was keen to settle down but he always said it was too soon. In the end, we broke up.’

I didn’t need to go into the fact that he’d dumped me because he’d fallen for someone else who he very quickly committed to. I was supposed to be selling myself, not advertising the fact that my long-term boyfriend traded me in for a younger model once I’d outlived my usefulness.

‘That’s a shame.’ His eyes dropped to his plate and he popped the last forkful of chicken salad in his mouth. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Don’t you want dessert?’ I asked.

‘It’s too late for that and you must be full after all that pasta.’

‘A bit, but everyone knows it’s a separate stomach for dessert, right?’ I laughed. Edward frowned like I was a lunatic and my smile dropped. ‘Not a dessert fan, then?’

‘Not really.’

‘Maybe you could get a cheeseboard instead?’

‘Too many calories. Let’s go,’ Edward repeated.

Too many calories?We were on holiday, FFS.

‘Okay,’ I agreed reluctantly. We were here for two weeks, so I supposed I could get dessert another day.

Edward got up and I followed him, excited about the next part of the evening.

When Romeo gave me the tour he said that there was a cocktail bar open until midnight, so we could get a drink there and chat.

Or once our food had settled, I’d definitely be up for skinny-dipping. Could be a fun way to help break the ice.

It wasn’t every day that I got to spend time in a five-star, all-inclusive hotel in Italy with a beach and the sea right here to enjoy, so I wanted to make the most of it.