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I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m sure Delilah would have erased any evidence that she was pregnant, probably fearful that somebody could see and maybe show Maddie. Yet, I can’t stop the question because there’s something inside me that wants to see. Needs to see.

Felix reaches for his mobile. He unlocks the screen and then scrolls for a moment before handing me the phone, taking a seat on the sofa with me.

“I had these in a password-protected folder until Maddie found out the truth, not that she’s asked to see them yet. There aren’t many, because Delilah never liked having her picture taken,” he states.

“I remember,” I murmur, half distracted by the photographs on his screen. I barely had any of Delilah when we were together because she would hide her face or shy away from the camera. I once convinced her to go into a photobooth with me, and we both kept a strip of the pictures. I wonder what she did with hers.

"Some things never change," Felix comments.

The picture on the phone has a sleeping Delilah, her hand resting on her bump, an arm cuddling that stupid sea turtle. “She gave this to Maddie.” I tap on the turtle.

“Yeah. She said it was a way for her to gift something of Maddie’s father to her, since that was the only thing she had that you gave her. Maddie dragged that around for years. I’m sure she still has it. I don’t know if she knows you gave it to Dee.”

I flick to the next photographs. Like Felix said, there aren’t many, and most look to be taken either when Delilah was asleep or just not paying attention. There’s one of her at the cinema, asleep in the chair, a bucket of popcorn resting on her leg. There’s another of her curled up in a big armchair, a blanket over her legs, but aware the photograph was being taken, as she’s flipping Felix off and trying to hide her face. The last one looks to be of Delilah and her father.

I hand the phone back to Felix, a quick look of understanding flashing between us. These images feel like a gift, and I know he didn’t have to show me any of them.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“They’re the only pictures of her pregnant. She wouldn’t let her dad or Verity take any, nor my parents,” Felix says, sounding amused. I wonder how hard she argued with them if they tried to take her photograph.

“Who was with her when she had Maddie?” It’s another question I don’t know why I’m asking, one I don’t feel comfortable asking Delilah, and nobody else would likely be able to answer.

“I was with her, and so was Verity. We looked after her,” he tells me gruffly.

“You always do,” I acknowledge, seeing not for the first time just how much he loves her.

“Any other questions?”

I shake my head, though it’s a lie. I have a million questions, but I know they should be things I ask Delilah. I’m sure there will be plenty of times we’ll go back and forth with questions, though whether they’ll be asked in hushed or raised voices remains to be seen.

“Dinner is ready!” Delilah calls from the kitchen. Felix and I both get up, heading back towards the kitchen together, taking our untouched glasses of water with us.

The kitchen table has been set for four, and the scent of spices hangs in the air, making my mouth water and my stomach growl slightly. I realise I’m ridiculously hungry, having skipped breakfast and lunch due to nerves about the hospital appointment.

“Doesn’t look like any fists were thrown,” Caleb states when we walk to the table. He has a bemused little smile on his face.

“I’m smart enough not to try to punch somebody Felix’s size.” I laugh.

“Well, he does have a way of making people want to try,” Caleb teases.

He takes a seat on one side of the table, Felix next to him. It leaves the two seats on the opposite side, so I sit next to Delilah and try not to react at how close we are to each other. It shouldn’t feel weird, but it does. We sat this close at the hospital, but right now, without the stress of the appointment hanging over me, things feel charged. Maybe it’s because I can see her again without the barrier of the anger and hurt.

“I’m starving,” Delilah announces, picking up her fork. She stabs at a piece of her lamb, taking a mouthful. There’s an expression that crosses her face that makes me think she’s arrived in heaven, her eyes slightly closed. I get a flashback to being sat opposite her in the history block at school, watching her eat a maple pecan plait, looking like she’s never eaten anything so wonderful before.

Across the table, Felix raises his eyebrow at me and shakes his head, almost like a little warning that I shouldn’t be thinking about those days, that I shouldn’t be putting myself on the same slopes I’ve been on before, the ones that end up with me crashing into her life.

I wonder if I’m as easy to read as he always is.

Instead of replying, I eat some of the bhuna, trying not to join Delilah with the died-and-gone-to-heaven look, because this is frankly one of the best things I’ve tasted in ages. The sauce is spiced to perfection, and the lamb is so tender it almost melts in my mouth.

“This is amazing,” I comment when I swallow my first forkful.

“Top tip in life is to find a man who can cook,” Caleb jokes, looking at Felix.

“Any better at making banoffee pie, Joseph?” Delilah quips.

“I’ll have to try to make it again,” I reply, laughing.