Peering in the mirror, I looked for any signs that I was ageing.
‘I can’t believe I’m 30,’ I laughed to my daughter Ella, then 12.
‘You don’t look it, Mum!’ she smiled back at me.
Shortly after my celebratory night out, I got a Facebook message from someone called Luke Patrice, now 35.
I didn’t know Luke very well, but I’d seen him a few times before in the pub.
He was confident and always the centre of attention – with everyone laughing at his jokes and wanting to be around him.
Do you fancy going on a date with me? he asked.
I did find him charming and attractive, so I agreed to meet him for a drink and the following evening, he met me at the pub.
‘I’ve always liked you,’ he confessed, taking my hand. ‘I want to be with you.’
I found it quite full-on, especially as I had Ella to worry about, but I was flattered and agreed to meet up again.
But Luke was persistent, texting and calling me in the days after our first date, asking to see me again and to be his girlfriend.
He must really like me, I thought. Should give him a chance?
From there, our relationship progressed quickly.
He made me look crazy
Three months later, in March 2017, Luke moved in with me
