I woke the next morning feeling dreadful after worrying all night. I was getting a slight case of cold feet, but I told myself not to think about ‘The Dan situation’ because until we met, there was nothing I could do about it. I thought instead of the waves on Bondi Beach and Sydney Opera House in the sunshine and all the places in between that Dan had talked lovingly of. Ideally, I’d discover those places with him by my side, I just hoped everything would be okay.

So, three days later, with my too many bags, floppy hat, blue linen dress and lashings of factor 30, I landed in Australia. I’d texted Dan (as requested) to let him know my arrival time. It felt rather polite and formal, but after that strange phone call, I wasn’t taking anything for granted. This was the love of my life, the man I’d shared my deepest secrets with, but we weren’t back there yet. He texted back, equally polite, saying he’d booked a room at a hotel for me.

‘I’ve taken two days off so I can get you to your hotel and then show you around,’ he added.

Two days? I’d travelled thousands of miles to see him, we hadn’t been together for over twelve months – I’d expected more than two days! This was the man who’d talked for hours about the waves on sun-drenched Bondi Beach, where he’d grown up and learned to surf as a tiny kid, and the glittering Sydney skyscape by night. He’d been desperate to show me these places, take me through his childhood, eat in every café he’d ever eaten, taste every brand of ‘amber nectar’ and consume Vegemite and Anzac biscuits like a native. He was passionate about his homeland, wanted to open it out to me like a gift. His very soul danced in the waves, made sandcastles, and climbed the Blue Mountains that framed his amazing city. And he wanted to share this with me. Didn’t he?

What the hell was going on with him? I just kept going over and over our conversation and texts and went from ‘he loves me’ to ‘he loves me not’. Going through passport control, it occurred to me I might just be making the biggest mistake of my life. Me and Dan had been wonderful together, but perhaps we weren’t meant to be? Perhaps we were just a holiday romance that had gone on too long, his proposal a moment of madness, and now I was turning up at his home trying to make something of nothing? Why was I having these thoughts now? It was too late, I was here! And just a little bit tipsy from all the gin I’d drunk on the plane. Medicinal, to calm my nerves – besides, it was free, so it would have been rude not to.

Standing alone in the middle of this huge airport, all I could see were strangers’ faces looking back at me as I walked through arrivals. I’d imagined this moment for so long: us seeing each other across acres of shiny flooring, me dropping my bags to the floor and both of us running towards one another, him lifting me off the ground and twirling me round. People would look enviously on, wishing for a moment that they could have a little taste of what we had. We’d be the accompanying gif to #RelationshipGoals on everyone’s social media.

I tried to hold in my stomach, lift my face slightly so I’d look younger – I could only imagine the extra lines and chins I’d developed since I’d last seen him. Mandy’s dubious Botox could only do so much, and this would be Dan’s first glimpse of me. I wanted him to fall in love all over again and any doubts to dissipate at the sight of me.

But first I had to find him and the more I looked, the less I saw. So many expectant faces, so many fair-haired men dressed in T-shirts and jeans making my heart jerk in my chest until they turned or got closer and I saw it wasn’t him. And then, I saw him. It was him. Definitely. A glimpse of fair, tousled hair, a movement of both hands through that hair, a nervous gesture I knew so well. I’d seen it the first time we’d kissed, the first time he turned up at the salon and was accosted by Mandy – and the time he’d asked me to marry him.

The sight of him standing in the near distance had a physical impact, like something had slammed into my chest. He was wearing sunglasses, his face was tanned and a little stubbly, his hair beach blond; he looked a little older, in a good way. And if I’d ever had any doubts about venturing this far, about putting myself on the line, about whether or not we had a future together, just seeing him standing there looking gorgeous erased all doubts. This was no holiday romance – on my part, at least – this was true love. It was heart-in-your-mouth roller-coaster, thirst-quenching, nothing-else-matters love and though it had never really gone away, it now hurtled into me, throwing me off balance. I felt giddy and dizzy, my limbs like liquid; one of those dreams where you’re walking but not going anywhere, each step pointless, like being underwater. And trust me, it wasn’t the gin.

I walked in the direction of where he was standing and felt a little rush as he pushed his sunglasses onto his head and gave me that familiar, twinkly smile, a moment of relief – yes, he was pleased to see me. Everything would be okay.

He began walking towards me (he wasn’t running as I’d hoped). The distance between us felt so short, and at the same time endless. As we grew closer, I tried to search his face for clues, but he was giving nothing away. Suddenly we were together, and we automatically moved into a hug. I tried to let myself go, to relax into his arms. I let my head drop onto his shoulder and immersed myself in his smell – seaside, sunshine and lemons. I wanted to kiss him, but as I looked up into his face, his expression told me this wasn’t something I could do. There was resistance in his eyes, a hardness in his limbs that caused me instinctively to pull back, and a word kept going through my head as I gently stood back and surveyed him – cautious. Dan was being cautious around me. This was not a word I would ever have associated with him before. He was here on home turf, and I wondered if this was the real Dan. And for the first time I had to ask myself how well I really knew him.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe it, you’re actually here.’ A genuine smile, but his stance was still awkward as he gestured for me to hand him my bags.

‘Thanks for meeting me,’ I said, my hopes of hurling myself into his arms and kissing away the past year in the first ten seconds now gone. This wasn’t how it was going to be.

‘Come on then,’ he said, picking up my bags with one hand, and I noted, not taking my hand with his other. I didn’t feel I could take his hand – I didn’t know why, but I felt like he might not want me to. This was so unlike the ‘us’ we used to be. I could grab him and kiss him in the middle of the street, burrow under his arm and into his chest. But now, without words, he was somehow keeping me at arm’s length, and it hurt like hell.

We headed towards the exit, me running alongside him, trying to keep up.

‘So, where are we staying?’ I asked brightly. I kept things light, no difficult conversations yet about feelings, telling myself he just needed time to get used to me being here.

‘I booked a little hotel near The Rocks. The area’s a bit touristy but the hotel’s good, clean – there’s a place nearby that does good breakfasts,’ he added, a glimmer of the old smile at the thought of breakfast.

I smiled back. Our mutual love of food always brought us together.

‘Is that okay with you?’ he asked, turning to look at me properly for the first time.

‘Yeah, it sounds good.’

‘It’s just that you look a bit surprised.’

‘Oh… no, it’s Mandy and…’

‘The Botox?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t know why you put yourself through it, you don’t need Dr Frankenstein, Faye,’ he smiled, and for a moment our eyes met. But it was fleeting and he quickly put his sunglasses over his eyes and turned away. ‘Come on, we’ve got a train to catch,’ he said, picking up speed as I ran along beside him.

‘So, breakfast?’ I said, returning to food, trying to engage him so I could get a feel for what was going on. ‘It sounds great, haven’t eaten since yesterday.’ I looked up at him, still searching for a clue, hoping for a return of that glimmer when he’d looked at me, but he seemed to have closed off again. ‘I was a bit… nervous, coming here… seeing you,’ I said.

‘Nervous?’ He was still walking fast, still looking ahead.

‘Yes, I wasn’t sure whether I was doing the right thing… coming here.’ Again I tried to see a reaction, but nothing.

‘It might be a bit late for breakfast,’ he was looking at his watch, without acknowledging my last sentence. ‘But fortunately this café I know does an all-day brunch,’ he smiled.

He must mean Lemon Myrtle. I longed to see it, but I was torn between feeling excited and scared about this whole trip. For the first time ever I didn’t feel completely sure of Dan.

Boarding the train at the airport, he nodded for me to climb on first. He caught my eye but there was no recognition of the shared love between us, and I wondered if the problem was simpler than I’d imagined. Perhaps he just didn’t love me anymore.

I tried to focus on what was happening. I was going to his café for breakfast, and perhaps once he started showing me round and talking food, the old Dan would return. His exuberance around baked goods was always something I enjoyed and surely he hadn’t lost that? I had to stay positive for now and have patience; we both needed to reacclimatise to each other. The very prospect that he didn’t love me or want me there was too impossible to consider, so I pushed it away like a meal I couldn’t eat. I wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.

Our train was busy, and sadly, we couldn’t sit together. Dan stood with my bags, while I found a seat, unhappy that my first glimpses of Sydney were blue skies and sunshine without him. But even the stunning panorama of sun-blazed beaches opening up into the Pacific couldn’t drag my eyes away from him.

‘So, you have two days to show me around?’ I asked, when we finally got off the train and started walking. Again, me almost skipping by his side as he forged on through the crowds of people.

‘Yeah, most of today and I can take tomorrow off,’ he said. I’d hoped he’d changed his mind now I was here and would try to get a few more days, but it seemed he was sticking to two – it was all I was worth, even in my new blue dress with my new fake tan done by Mandy. She’d offered me a free vajazzle: ‘Sydney Harbour in rhinestones?’ she’d said. ‘Life’s short – get a vajazzle,’ she’d added, like that would sway me to have an iconic building in jewels glued to my vagina. I’d declined with some force, and she didn’t make me have the treatment against my will, which was a blessing as she often did.

The way things were, I didn’t think a glittering Sydney Harbour on my lower regions was the icebreaker Dan and I needed just now. I’d hoped that when we met it would all become clear: I’d see the old Dan, we’d fall into each other’s arms and within minutes we’d have planned our future. If I’m honest, I even stupidly hoped he’d realise from my obvious ‘hinting’ that I was ready to take him up on his proposal. I honestly thought there might be a chance of him greeting me on one knee in airport arrivals while everyone cheered around us and took photos on their phones. But, of course, he hadn’t. In fact, he’d whisked me out of that bloody airport in indecent haste, without even asking if I needed a drink or a rest.

As someone who valued her independence I made up my mind as I ran alongside him that I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself or stick around where I wasn’t wanted, but for now I’d keep going.

‘There’s so much I want to see! I feel really lucky to have a native showing me around,’ I said, wanting to fill the air with my voice instead of this emptiness.

He was being pleasant, pointing out things as we walked by and of course he was carrying all my bags. Anyone who didn’t know us might imagine we were new lovers, or old friends, but we still weren’t being us. Where was the Dan who’d be giving me the bloody history of every single place, along with the kind of sandwich that originated there?

Arriving at the café, it looked nice, better on the website – but the view was good. The deck looked out over the water, at the white sails of the Sydney Opera House, its soaring, sculptured roof skimming the clouds, framed by the brilliance of a Sydney morning sky. We wandered in and found some seats and I started to feel a little better. Dan was smiling and seemed more relaxed.

‘Dan, it’s lovely,’ I said, gazing at someone’s waffles as they were delivered to the next table.

‘Yeah, it’s good food too,’ he said, as the waiter approached and we ordered. Dan went for huevos rancheros and I couldn’t resist the waffles with fresh berries, honey and whipped cream.

‘Does he know who you are?’ I asked as the waiter walked away from the table. I was surprised he didn’t seem to know Dan.

‘No… Why should he?’

‘Because you’re the owner.’

‘Oh no, this isn’t The Lemon Myrtle, that’s the other side of Sydney.’

I was shocked. ‘So why are we here? I thought you’d be keen to show me your café?’

‘Well, that’s work and this,’ he said, lifting his glass of orange juice and clinking it with mine, ‘is pleasure.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I smiled, not quite convinced. I took a gulp of orange juice and watched him over the glass. This made a kind of sense, this way we could be alone, me and Dan in our bubble again without colleagues and customers interrupting us. ‘So, the hotel is near here and also miles away from your café?’ I asked, this thought colliding with my temporary acceptance of his explanation.

He nodded. ‘Yeah. Like I said, I think we need to spend some time together, away from everything else. We need to talk and… I don’t want anyone else distracting us and… being there.’

‘That’s fine,’ I smiled, wondering who ‘anyone’ might be. ‘I agree, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.’ I continued to sip my juice.

We sat in silence until our food arrived. I tried to swallow any lingering doubts along with the spiky berries and clouds of whipped cream that topped the lightest waffles I’d ever had. I told Dan he must get the recipe, and offered him a forkful, which he took in an unguarded moment. Our eyes met over the delicious morsel, and my heart began beating as I piled cream on the berries and chewed in brunch bliss.

About an hour later, we arrived at the hotel and the minute we closed the bedroom door, we were in each other’s arms. Well, to be accurate, I fell into his arms, fully expecting to land on something soft, but again there was resistance. His chest felt like concrete and as he gently took my wrists in each hand and moved me away, I almost died.

‘What’s the matter?’ was all I could manage, in little more than a whisper.

He pointedly moved to sit on a chair, not the bed.

‘It’s okay, Dan. If I repulse you, just say.’ I was trying to be light-hearted even though inside I felt crushed.

‘It’s not that… You know it isn’t.’

‘Well, don’t sit over there. You’re quite safe sitting on the bed – we don’t have to touch, I won’t come near you,’ I said, anger and fear now lacing my words. I was hurt, and I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I was waiting for the next part of our story, which I was sure would leave me in no doubt at all. ‘What is it?’ I asked softly. I didn’t know how to handle this slightly vague man who didn’t seem to want me near him.

He didn’t look at me, just ran his hands through his hair and stared at the ceiling. ‘I feel so bad. And I don’t know what to do… I don’t know where to start, and…’

‘Dan, tell me!’ I was feeling panicked now.

‘I was so hurt when we split… angry with you, which wasn’t perhaps fair, but I couldn’t help how I felt.’

‘I understand – and now you’re worried I’ll change my mind again, aren’t you?’ I said, almost willing this to be the issue. ‘I’m not here to see the Opera House or the waves, I’m here to be with you, for as long as I can. But only if that’s what you want too.’ I was facing him, sitting on the edge of the bed as he sat on the upright chair – the distance between us seemed ludicrous. ‘I know you think I’m suddenly going to feel guilty about Emma or Rosie and just when things are looking good, I’ll run away again, but I won’t. Not this time,’ I said, putting my head to one side to look into his eyes, trying to engage him. ‘I know they’re fine, they’re both happy – it’s me that isn’t. And that’s because we’re apart.’ But I didn’t feel like he was listening, and Dan always listened. ‘Dan?’ I said, longing for him to get up off the ridiculous chair and come and sit by me. ‘Hey, I feel like I’m being psyched out in a bloody job interview,’ I added.

He looked up and smiled and it broke a little of the ice.

‘Come on, sit by me. I promise I will be able to resist you,’ I smiled.

He stood up, walked towards the bed and, with some reluctance, sat down next to me.

‘I understand if you don’t want to rush things,’ I continued.

He looked at me, ‘I’m not sure you do understand.’

What was he trying to say, that I was coming on too strong? I flushed and started to speak without any filter. ‘I’m not chasing you, Dan. For God’s sake, it’s not like I was going to propose or anything! Jesus… It’s not like I’m looking to get married.’

‘Married?’ His face flushed slightly.

‘Exactly, who wants to get married? Weddings? No one mentioned any wedding… What the hell? I mean, it’s not like anyone’s getting married, is it? I wouldn’t, oh no, not me… I mean, if I were asked, I don’t mean you…’

‘Stop,’ he said, and almost smiled as he looked down at me. ‘You still haven’t found any meds for that then?’

I smiled, shook my head and then lowering my bottom lip, pulled an ‘awkward’ face. ‘You know me, Dan, I just blurt it all out and then try to take it back by repeating it and adding layers. And then another layer, until…’

‘You’re doing it again.’ I saw the twinkle in his eye; he was coming back to me, bit by bit.

‘Okay, so we might need to take it slowly, just talk, not kiss each other, or have sex or… I’m not saying I wouldn’t, it’s just that… Sex isn’t… I’m not obsessed or anything…’

‘Oh Faye,’ he sighed, turning to me and kissing me full on the lips, his arms slowly coming around me, his tongue pushing into my mouth. It was warm and loving. The promise of passion tingled through me and it felt like the first kiss of my life. Until he pulled away. Suddenly. As if I’d given him an electric shock.

‘You’re being all weird, Dan. Yes, it’s been over a year… A lot of water’s gone under the bridge, but we haven’t changed, even if other stuff has.’

‘That’s the trouble, everything else has,’ he sighed, and I suddenly got the feeling we weren’t talking about the same thing. When I said stuff had changed, I was thinking US presidents, Brexit, The Spice Girls reunion and Beyoncé’s twins, but he was definitely thinking about something else.

I looked at him, waiting for an explanation, but he seemed to be having trouble finding the words.

‘So, what is it? What “other things” have changed that could affect us? I’ve had this weird feeling since I first got in touch with you again that you might not feel the same about me but I thought when we actually got together we’d be okay, like we always were. But you’re different.’

He seemed almost tense, which was the opposite of the Dan I knew – or the Dan I thought I knew.

‘Faye, you turn up out of the blue like nothing happened, despite having told me you’d never be able to live here. You said you’d never marry me and we were wasting our lives even trying.’

‘You understood the reasons why, they had nothing to do with you and me.’

‘They had everything to do with you and me, and for a while I was crushed. Then you just contacted me to say you’ve changed your mind.’ He still wasn’t looking at me.

‘I can see how it looks, but I’m not just here on a whim. I can’t live without you – I can’t sleep, I can’t concentrate, I can’t get on with my life. Hell, Dan, even cake tastes horrible without you! Nothing’s the same when you’re not there, Dan.’

He didn’t react, just lay back, staring at the celling now, unable to look at me. What the hell was going on? I’d always been surprised at the level of commitment from this free spirit who’d turned up in my life at a time when I needed him. Throughout our relationship he’d had plenty of opportunities to dump me, forget me, pretend I’d never existed – but all the time he said he couldn’t live without me. When we’d said our final goodbyes, it was Dan who’d continued to text me, who said he’d wait forever. So why, when I turned up in his home city, did he suddenly seem to have changed his mind?

I’d always had this vision of him standing by an altar waiting for me in a cheap suit. A rushed wedding, me in a short dress, a budget bouquet walking towards him; the wedding meant nothing, but the marriage meant everything. But right now, weddings and marriage seemed like the most impossible things imaginable. Becoming the sixth Spice Girl seemed more feasible, and that wasn’t going to happen.

‘Is there someone else?’ I asked into the silence, fully expecting him to reject this vigorously, but looking for something to say.

He closed his eyes, and I felt my skin begin to slowly peel away. No… Oh, not this… I hadn’t imagined this in my worst nightmares, but the longer he stayed silent, the more my mind lurched. His distance, his reluctance for me to be here, no public displays of affection, bringing me to one side of the city when his life was on the other, his inability to meet my eyes. I hadn’t imagined any of it. This wasn’t about Dan protecting himself, it was about Dan hiding someone from me – and hiding me from someone else.