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I slip out of bed and pull on my pyjamas, wrapping myself in one of the huge towelling dressing gowns the hotel has provided. A place like this has to have a night porter, right? I can’t see anything in the room, but maybe Nathan has left a message at reception for me. Grabbing my keycard, I let myself out of the room and head downstairs. Sure enough, there’s a bored-looking man sitting at the reception desk, watching something on the TV.

‘Can I help you?’ he asks when I approach.

‘Yes. Has anyone left any messages for me, do you know?’

‘What’s your room number?’

‘One-oh-three.’

He heads into the back office before returning and shaking his head. ‘No messages, I’m afraid.’

‘Ah, OK. This is a long shot, but did you happen to see a man come through here earlier? Dark hair, dressed in wedding clobber?’

‘I’ve seen loads of them,’ he says with a smile. ‘On account of there being a wedding here earlier. Was there one in particular you were looking for?’

‘This one would probably have been heading for the car park?’

‘Not really narrowing the field there, I’m afraid. Look, as far as I know, the only gentlemen in wedding gear are either asleep upstairs or have gone home. Unless you count the one passed out in the ballroom, I suppose.’

‘Would you mind if I took a look?’

‘No skin off my nose. Tell you the truth, one guest unconscious is a tame wedding. Normally, we’re fishing all sorts of unmentionables out of the lake and swimming pool by the time it’s over. If he wants to throw up, try to keep it off the carpet, OK?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

I hurry through to the ballroom, which looks exactly like you’d expect it to at the end of a party. The cleaners haven’t been through yet, so there are empty glasses everywhere, the faint whiff of fried food hangs in the air, and dirty plates with various leftovers on them are scattered around. The chairs are still arranged around the outside of the room, as they were for the disco but, other than that, it just looks rather sad and unloved compared to earlier.

I spot him almost straight away, lying on his side across four chairs with his tailcoat propped under his head as a kind of makeshift pillow. He can’t be comfortable like that.

‘Nathan,’ I say, shaking him gently. ‘Wake up.’

‘Hmm?’ He opens his eyes, and as they focus on me, his mouth widens into a smile. ‘Oh, hello. What are you doing here?’

‘I might ask you the same question.’

‘I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed,’ he says, as if that’s the most rational explanation in the world.

‘What?’

‘Breakfast,’ he repeats. ‘I thought it would be a nice treat for you. I didn’t want to go home. Home felt depressing after… everything. I wanted to spend more time with you.’

‘So why are you down here?’

He sits up. ‘Because I didn’t want you to wake up, find me there and be triggered. I thought I’d sleep down here and then knock on your door in the morning.’

‘Oh, Nathan,’ I say, struggling to keep the tears at bay. ‘That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.’ I reach forward and kiss him, which isn’t as romantic as it could be because we’re both developing morning breath, but I don’t care.

‘You’re worth it, Athena,’ he tells me.

‘Here’s the thing,’ I say, locking my eyes onto his. ‘I don’t think waking up next to you would trigger me at all. In fact, I think waking up next to you might just be the perfect way to wake up. I’d like to do it later, and I’d like to do it lots of times going forwards. How do you feel about that?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything.’ As I say the words, I know they’re true. It sounds horribly corny, and almost a betrayal of my independence but, despite my best efforts, there’s always been a small piece of me missing since Tim did what he did. Yes, I functioned pretty well, generally speaking, but I wasn’t complete. Looking into Nathan’s eyes, thinking about waking up next to him, about building a life with him, makes me feel whole. I don’t know what the future holds; none of us do. But I do know I want this man to be my partner in crime on the journey.

‘Come on,’ I tell him. ‘Let’s go back to bed.’

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