As we walk toward our accommodation, I have an urge to wrap my arm around his waist. I stop myself with an awkward start, aware that we’re not ready yet. We’re going to talk and that’s a start, but the understanding that I’ve still messed this up makes me drop my arm to my side again, deciding to simply walk alongside him. My legs feel stiff and my shoulders are tight. I’m kind of swaying instead of walking naturally. I cast my eyes to the ground, not daring to look at him in case he flees again.

Inside the privacy of our private but transparent dome, there are two chairs either side of the log fire, which fills the space with heat and a gorgeous burning smell. I gesture to one armchair, toeing off my shoes then planting my butt in the other. I’ve had some drinks brought up, and so, no sooner do I sit, I stand again and head over to root around in the low fridge.

“I don’t know about you, but I could do with a beer.” I ask.

“Sure, that would be good.”

We’re silent as I pop the caps off the bottles. Despite standing outside for hours, my hands are burning. The cool of the bottle melts against them and drips down the neck of the glass.

The fire crackles and the place closes in on me. I struggle to catch my breath as I loosen the zip on the jumper I’ve had on, eventually deciding to pull it over my head and dump it onto the bed. A memory of us stripping when we were here before shoots into my vision, of Kyle with his t-shirt pressed over his head, locking his arms at his wrists. Instinctively I pull mine down now at the front, covering what he has seen a million times before.

I pad over to where he’s watching the scene play out in utter silence. His face is placid, but he’s not relaxed either. The atmosphere is strained as we both struggle to find a footing that will drag us back to where we need to be.

I hand him the beer and his lips curve up, “Cheers.”

I nod, mirroring the shape of his lips with my own attempt at normality.

The chair creeks as I sit back down. Or is it the wooden floor? I’m not sure.

He stares at me, waiting for my move.

I go to speak, open my mouth, but there's no sound. I’ve rehearsed this, but now we’re here, together, nothing seems right. I close my gaping hole again, regroup. Start again.

“I’m sorry. That’s it. I fucked up, and I spoiled what we had, but I didn’t mean to. I still want you as much as I ever did.”

He moves his head, almost imperceptibly up and down. He knows it, but I had to say the words, nevertheless. That’s his acknowledgment.

“I’m sorry, too. And nothing happened between Florian and me. He’s just a buddy, some company to hang around with. You weren’t there. I was lonely. I wasn’t hiding anything from you. We just weren’t talking properly, and it got missed.”

OK, so I need to re-focus. What is important is how we got to the point where I thought something was going on and he felt like he needed to replace the space I had previously taken with a substitute.

“We can’t carry on like we have been. We must adapt.”

“We were so happy, Elliott. I know they say you shouldn’t change something if it’s not broken, but this is a classic example.”

“I agree, but life changes. That’s part of a relationship. We can’t just stay stagnant for the rest of our lives because at one point doing those things brought us joy. We need to find fresh ways to both remain content when life moves forward.”

He looks out the window as a gust catches the trees and they waver. “But I wasn’t happy. I missed you. You’ve got all this new exciting stuff going on in your life, and I’m just left back where we were. And there’s a chasm left, because where we were, was fifty percent you. I’m lonely. And I’m sad. You never have time to talk to me properly. And then I started to resent you, resent the things you were building for us.”

“I guess I was complacent. I had an idea that we were unbreakable and that we’d be fine whatever happened and so I could run off and invest my energies into another project.”

“I’m not a project, El. I’m your husband.”

“No, I know that, but what I mean is, I stopped making the effort with us because I thought we were through needing it. Turns out, we’re never through needing it, and I understand that now.”

“But now, we can never change back. You own the team.”

“We have the team. Nothing has changed. This is still for our future. We just need to figure out how we make it work instead of just assuming it will.”

“I would like that.” He sips his beer, and so I sip mine. The bitter liquid sparks against my dry taste buds as I roll it around the inside of my mouth.

“So, we’re good then?” I double check.

“We have some work to do, but we’ll work things out.”