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“Can’t tell you,” said Jules. “It’s Billy’s business, not mine. Just don’t go moving to Buenos Aires yet.”

“What’s the other option, then?”

Jules lifted her eyebrows. “You could stop being an idiot and find the woman and explain yourself? That seems the simplest plan. Don’t let her interrupt you, make sure you can say what needs to be said, and if she’s still butt-hurt after that, well, I don’t know. Buy her some flowers, maybe?”

“Do you buy Billy flowers when she’s mad at you?”

Jules snorted. “If I did, she’d hit me with them. No, I just lay out my feelings and we talk about stuff. You know, communicate? It’s what adults in relationships do for the most part. I can highly recommend it.”

“Fine,” Sophie said.

“No movie moments,” Jules reminded her. “You’re a grown woman with your own voice. Please use it. If you go around having these misunderstandings at the beginning of a relationship, they’ll get out of control and ruin things. Andunlike in the movies, most relationships don’t recover from that kind of bullshit.”

Sophie finished up her pint. “You’ve suddenly turned into a relationship guru.”

“One of us here is actually in a relationship,” Jules reminded her.

“Fine, fine, I’m on it. No more silly misunderstandings,” Sophie said. “And now I’d better get home. Gio was supposed to cook dinner tonight, and I only stayed out this long in case he burned the place down.”

Jules laughed and Sophie left the pub.

SHE MADE FAIR points, Sophie thought as she turned into her street. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough to explain herself to Tilly. She’d been rather in shock, to be honest. And she should try harder. She wanted to try harder.

They barely knew each other, but Sophie was certain in a way she rarely was that she wanted to know Tilly better, that she wanted to see what could happen here. There was an attraction, and maybe, just maybe, that attraction could grow into something more.

Even if it didn’t, it could be fun finding out, she thought as she walked up to her front door.

She opened the door to a puff of smoke and the smell of burning.

“Jesus,” she said, starting to cough.

“It’s alright,” said her dad, coming out into the hall and flapping a tea towel around. “It’s all alright, don’t panic.”

“Do we not have a smoke alarm?” asked Sophie, still coughing.

“That eejit in there turned it off,” said her father. “Because the beeping was annoying him.”

Sophie would have sighed if she could have taken a deep enough breath to do so. “What the hell happened?”

Her father stood at the front door, rapidly opening and closing it, getting the smoke to clear. “It’s this thing called ‘weaponized incompetence,’” he said.

“What?”

“Weaponized incompetence,” he repeated. “It’s where—”

“I know what it is,” Sophie said. “I’m a bit surprised that you do though.”

He looked sheepish. “I read about it in one of your mum’s magazines once.” He sniffed. “Didn’t want to be an arse of a husband. Mind you, looks like your brother isn’t going to be marrying anytime soon.”

“Dad,” Gio said, coming to the kitchen door in an apron. “Dad, I’m just ordering some pizza.”

“No way,” said his father. “You’re going to do it again and do it right this time. You’re not spending hard earned money whenever it’s your turn to cook and you’re not getting out of your cooking duties. Bacon and sausage isn’t exactly a gourmet dish, get back on it and try again. This time keep the heat on medium and turn the fan on over the stove.”

Gio stood there for a second, a truculent look on his face, then he caved and nodded. “Right then.”

Sophie closed the front door and followed them both into the kitchen. The window was wide open and the last of the smoke was leaving. She helped herself to a seat at the table, her father sat too, and Gio took more bacon from the fridge and started again.

“Get it right and I’ll show you how to make spag bol for next time,” Sophie said.