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I’ll be right out!’
    I hold my breath and stand with my head bowed waiting for him to enter the room. I know he’ll instantly know what I’ve done. He’ll see it written all over my face.
    But instead he walks in grinning cheerfully, wearing a hoodie I bought him last Christmas. He looks as happy as I’ve ever known him and when he envelops me in an enormous hug, I clasp on to him, never wanting him to let me go. But then I stiffen and shrink away, knowing that what I’m doing is selfish, that I’m deceiving him all over again, making him think that everything is all right when it’s not.
    Ryan leans back and looks at me, his eyes crinkling with concern. He strokes my cheek. ‘Molly, about last night, the way I was on the phone . . . I’m so sorr—’
    ‘Don’t, Ryan,’ I interrupt, not wanting him to use the words on me that only he deserves. ‘Please, don’t.’ I begin to cry and slump down on the floor. ‘I don’t want to do this, Ry,’ I look up at him pleadingly. ‘You have to believe me. But . . . ’
    Ryan slumps down too, staring at me in confusion. ‘What’s going on, Molly? It was just a silly argument, but I know I went too far, you had every right to go out with your colleagues after your Christmas lunch. I should have called you today, but I wanted to surprise you, make it up to you. I’ve cooked you a meal! We’re having butternut squash soup followed by roast chestnut and pancetta risotto with a salad of rocket, parmesan shavings and pine nuts, and to finish . . . Shit, please stop crying, Moll, you’re freaking me out. I know I’ve made promises that I haven’t kept and that’s why—’
    ‘Ry . . . ’
    ‘No, let me finish!’ he says slowly and deliberately.
    I look up at him desperately, silently begging him to stop talking. He rubs his head wearily. ‘I know what a routine our life has turned into. I know I’ve been stressed and tired and I’ve taken it out on you. I know I’ve been selfish. I know that I’ve expected you to live the life that I wanted, not the one you dreamed of, and I’m determined to change that, so . . . ’ Ryan runs his fingers through his hair and gazes at me, like a child, bursting with a secret and desperate to share it. ‘I was going to wait until Christmas, but . . . ’ He runs out of the room and I open my mouth, I try to speak, to stop him. He’s back before I can form a word and he slides onto the floor next to me, like a Labrador, panting with eagerness, his face shining with love and hope and loyalty. He thrusts an envelope into my hands.
    ‘In here, Molly, is the answer to all our problems!’ he says. ‘It isn’t a winning lottery ticket, or a trip around the world, not even close, but it’s a promise that things are going to change. That our life is going to be different from now on. Well, go on, open it!’
    I stare at the envelope blankly, the paper quivering in my grasp. Chicago’s ‘If You Leave Me Now’ is playing on the radio. I’d think it was a sign but Ryan’s got Heart FM on. Every song is a bloody love song. I look up, desperate for Ryan to see that he’s making this harder. If I open this envelope everything is going to be so much worse.
    ‘Ryan, I can’t—’ I begin handing the envelope back to him.
    ‘Please, Molly.’ He looks at me pleadingly, his eyes full of the knowledge that his life as he knows it is slipping from his grasp and if I just reach out to him, open the envelope, that he’ll be able to cling on to it for that bit longer. Make everything safe again.
    He refuses to take it and the envelope drops to the floor.
    ‘Ryan, there’s something I have to say, something I have to tell you.’
    Ryan rubs his hand through his hair in that way he does when he’s frustrated and anxious, and shakes his head. ‘No, look, you don’t understand! I’m going to open it for you!’ He bends down and then exhales impatiently as his fingers fumble at the envelope, trying to open it, tearing the paper