His hotel room is another league from mine. I always take a standard one at wedding venues, but his is on a par with Georgie and Kieran’s four poster room. It has one of its own.

The room is huge, with a massive TV on the wall and a big, beautiful table. His suitcase is in the corner, still unpacked, but there is a laptop on the table with paperwork all around it, so it’s clear he’s been working rather than settling in for a night of luxury in this place. I haven’t even asked him yet what he does for a living, since it hasn’t come up in conversation, but I don’t get the chance. He’s already up behind me, his arms sliding around my waist.