Nothing.

Me.

‘Happy anniversary, husband.’

‘Happy anniversary, wife.’

I have to fetch Oliver. Ring the buzzer and summon Luis, but I can’t let go of Adam. I won’t let go of Adam.

He holds me close. ‘Anna.’ His voice a whisper in the breeze.

I jolt awake.

Neck stiff and eyes sticky with sleep. Drool crusted around my mouth. The disappointment that Adam hasn’t really woken is crushing. I had spent last night pressed against him. My sleep light with fear,not allowing myself to fall too deeply in case I inadvertently dislodged a tube. A wire. I am heavy with sadness. That might be the last time I share a bed with my husband; it won’t be possible in a regular-sized hospital bed – if Adam survives the journey home.

If.

I wish I could step inside his consciousness and tell him goodbye. I wish Oliver would change his mind. But he is adamant the trial hasn’t worked.

As I think this, there’s another sliver of something I can’t quite put my finger on. I close my eyes and try to will the thought to form but it doesn’t take shape.

Sofia taps on the door. ‘The car will be ready in two hours to take you to the airport.’

I still need to pack but first I want to make the most of this quiet time. Adam and me in bed. The sound of the waves outside. The sun beating through the window.

‘So before we go home I want to remind you of a few things.’

I begin to tell him the story of us, just so he doesn’t forget how much we love each other.

I will, never, ever forget that again.

I’ve covered our meeting, his proposal, am onto our wedding when I think his hand moves slightly under mine. I hold my breath. Wait.

But nothing happens.

It’s wishful thinking, I know.

I carry on talking.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Adam

Her fingers stroke mine, slowly. Rhythmically. Under hers I try to move my own but it’s fruitless.

She’s telling me about our wedding day. About Josh’s speech.

‘What can I say about Ad?’ Josh had said as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, pausing to down yet another glass of champagne. I was already cringing. Already second-guessing the content of the speech he hadn’t let me read.

Adam’s a twat for giving up his dreams and marrying so young.

He wet the bed until he was seven.

He didn’t lose his virginity until he was eighteen.

He’s been known to cry at Disney films.

So many things he could say about me, and I didn’t want him to say any of them.