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“Of course not,” Lucy replied, just a little too quickly. “He’s only away for a couple of days. It’s nice to have the place to myself.”

Her phone dinged and she grabbed it immediately. Her heart gave a little flutter when she saw Dylan’s name on the screen.

Stupid pregnancy hormones for doing this to her. Presumably it was an evolutionary thing . . . women needing the protection of the father of their child, and her body just hadn’t cottoned on to the fact that she was an independent woman. Her brain would ping back to its normal behaviour in a few months.

She’d been determined not to ask Dylan when he’d be back, but, of course, he was messaging her to let her know his ETA now he’d finished for the day and was starting his journey back.

She finally heard him parking his car and opening up the gate at the end of the garden just after seven in the evening. She had to stop herself from running downstairs to meet him, torn between wanting to see him and being incredibly frustrated with herself for feeling this way. She paced the sitting room waiting for him. It seemed like forever before she heard his key turning in the flat’s door at the bottom of the stairs, and his footsteps coming up. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from going out into the hall to greet him — skipping out to the hall might be a better description.

She cursed herself when he opened the door to the flat and she hurried into the hallway with what could only be described as a goofy grin plastered all over her face.

“Hi,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.

“Hey,” he said. He looked tired, she noticed.

“How was the drive?”

“Fine,” he said. “How are you both?”

“Good,” she answered

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re pleased to have me back,” he said, his grin matching hers. “I’d even suspect that you’ve been waiting for me.”

“It’s lucky you know better than that,” Lucy replied.

“Well, I’m thrilled to be home,” he said simply, leaving Lucy momentarily speechless.

“Let me just dump my stuff and have a quick shower and I’ll sort us out some food,” he continued, wandering off into his bedroom.

Lucy willed her mind to stop thinking about Dylan calling her flat ‘home’ while she pottered around tidying up and started making a salad for them. It was just a figure of speech.

“Hey,” Dylan said, coming into the kitchen all clean and smelling so good, Lucy felt a tingle run through her as he came close. “I’ll do that.”

“It’s fine,” said Lucy, “You’ve had a long day.”

“So have you.”

“It’s not a competition,” Lucy laughed.

“I saw one of the curtains in the sitting room has come off the hooks at the end of the rail. I’ll get it sorted later.”

“Dylan,” she said, gently touching his arm, “you know you can just be yourself with me? You don’t need to be amusing me or fixing something; you can just be you.”

He looked unsure how to respond.

“You’ve had a long day. Sit down and let me sort you out with some food,” Lucy said.

“You don’t have to do that. I can cook us up something . . .”

“I’m only going to be heating up something delicious you’ve already cooked,” Lucy laughed.

Dylan sat down, and she brought him over a bottle of beer. “This is my favourite.”

“I know,” she said.

“Anyone would think you’d missed me while I was away.”

“You were only gone for three days, well, two nights.”