She sat in a puddle of lace and ribbon, all white and frothy as it broke against the grass and the blanket and her peach-perfect skin. Kyle fed her bits of chocolate and she told stories.

A story ended and another one did not start. The moment was frozen in time. The chocolate dropped from Kyle’s fingers as he tried to say those three magic words.

Kyle said nothing.

‘I love you,’ she said.

‘I love you like the storm and the oak and the constant earth beneath my feet. I love your stupid cardigan and your too-small pupils in your too-big eyes. I love the way you grin when you’ve said something you shouldn’t have. I love how you copy my accent and don’t even realise.

’I love you like I loved Jonas before …

‘I love you like the brother I no longer have. I need that brother, to carry me through and to love me outside of the tangles of sex and the drama of dates. I love you when you stroke my hair, because that’s a touch no boyfriend will ever give.

‘I love you.’

Kyle held her close.