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‘Why?’

‘In case you start throwing things.’

‘Why would I do that?’ I take a seat.

‘Tony Robbins threw three Granny Smith apples during his last marketing evaluation.’

‘Didhe?’

‘Oh yeah. And Richard Branson cried like a baby. Marketing evaluations can be gruelling. Actually … just in case.’ Freddy hands me a silver box of tissues.

‘I’m not going to cry,’ I say. ‘I’m much more likely to throw fruit.’

Freddy moves the fruit bowl to a side table. ‘Okay. First things first. Open your phone and block Chris’s number.’

‘What?’

‘You want me to help you, right?’

‘Look, I’ll never love anyone the way I loved Chris.’ My eyes flick to the fruit bowl. ‘But I honestly think that’s a positive. Because I’ll take anyone who’ll have me.’

‘Anyone?’

‘Not anyone. That came out wrong.’

‘So, what are your criteria?’

‘Anyone who isn’t racist, sexist, homophobic or anti-disability.’

Freddy’s jaw pulls tight. ‘Listen Kat, I’m all for practicality. Love is, after all, just marketing at its most successful. People love their iPhones. But your standards should be higher. You want to have kids one day, right? That’s the purpose of this marriage exercise?’

‘Yes.’

‘So your standards are incredibly immature.’

‘I’m not immature –’

‘Oh no? Your criteria match a teenager looking for a boyfriend. You’re a mature woman looking for a husband. You want to have children with this man, correct? That’s what this whole marriage exercise is all about?’

‘Well, when you put it that way … I suppose, yes.’

‘So you need someone capable of being a good father. A successful professional who has proven themselves responsible, reliable and committed enough to do well in their career. Can we at least agree on that as a minimum?’

‘I suppose ... okay.’

‘Great. Now block Chris’s number.’

‘Freddy, honestly, there’s no need,’ I insist. ‘I would never entertainanythingwith a married man. But Chris and I can still be friends. I’ve known him nearly half my life.’

‘God, Kat, I thought you were intelligent.’ Freddy runs a hand through his expensively choppy hair. ‘Don’t you get it? Chris and Minola won’t last five minutes. And when they break up, he’ll come crawling back to you for free bed and board.’

‘Do you really think so?’ I feel my chest lift.

‘Block him.’ Freddy bangs the desk. ‘Immediately. And take that pathetic look off your face. Chris is not the responsible, marriage-minded consumer we want to attract. You want a husband, not a perpetual one-night stand with a man-child.’

‘I think you’re being a little harsh. He’s not that immature –’

‘Really? Let’s test that theory. How did Chris react when he found out you had MS?’