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‘He’s an argumentative prat.’

‘Pot, kettle,’ I point out, and Leon makes an angry noise in the back of his throat that has Gemma smothering a giggle into her hand. She has to turn away a bit, flapping a hand in front of her face to try to breathe before she sets herself off into another fit of laughter.

Leon says, ‘Always playing devil’s advocate—’

‘He enjoys a healthy debate!’

‘You can do that without belittling everybody around you – something he’s never bothered to learn how to do and clearly doesn’t care about, either.

You know he had my mum in tears after he left once, lecturing us on veganism and how we were all contributing to the ruin of the environment for the next generation – even saying maybe that was why my dad got sick .

And then he’s there not two days later, out with some people, hunting.

For sport . And posting photos of the pheasant they ate, after. ’

‘He – well, that …’ That can’t be the whole story.

Can it? Maybe Leon and Kayleigh’s mum said something aggravating, or got the wrong end of the stick.

Although Marcus does love playing devil’s advocate to stir up a chat, can come off a bit …

a bit brusque sometimes. Even I can admit that sounds like him.

A leaden weight settles in the pit of my stomach and there’s a tremble in my hands as I reach for my drink.

‘He’s not a bad person,’ I say, and my voice is a bit wobbly, too. I try again. ‘I’m not saying he’s perfect, nobody is, but you don’t know him like I do. He’s sweet, and caring, and funny—’

Both Gemma and Leon scoff at that.

I only dig my heels in harder. They don’t know. They don’t .

‘He can light up the whole room when he walks in—’

‘He’s an attention seeker,’ Leon insists. ‘He demands that attention, doesn’t earn it or deserve it.’

‘And he can make you feel so special, like the most important person—’

‘Yeah, because here’s this raging narcissist giving you the time of day.’

Gemma, again, makes a noise of agreement at that, nodding along.

I say, ‘Maybe he’s got a bit of a – a polished, hard exterior, but he’s not like that deep down, not really. He’s such a softie, has such a big heart—’

‘One,’ Leon snaps. ‘Give me one example. Go on.’

He sits up straighter, and Gemma has an elbow on the table, cheek on her fist again, watching our exchange like a tennis match – though it’s abundantly clear she’s rooting for Leon, is on his side.

I’m not sure if that’s because they both hate me as the other woman, or because she really doesn’t think much of Marcus either.

Isn’t that a sign, that he and Kayleigh aren’t right for each other? If her own brother and her best friend don’t like him? Are quite literally fighting to prove how dislikeable he is?

Leon taps the open notebook.

‘I’ve got pages of instances he’s offended or upset our family here, and that barely scratches the surface. So go on. Give me one example of a time he was such a glowing example of a good human being.’

I open my mouth and falter, mind racing, reeling.

It’s only because there are so many, though. It’s like when someone asks you to name a book you like, and you suddenly forget the title of any book in existence.

How am I supposed to choose just one?

And how am I supposed to find the right one – one that proves he isn’t worthy of their hate, but isn’t so convincing that it makes Leon think Marcus should marry Kayleigh.

It’s mean and scheming and feels wrong, but I know that it is, ultimately, helpful if he doesn’t want the wedding to go ahead either.

It’s someone on my side, if not in my corner.

Where to even start?

‘He always tells me to text him that I’m home safe, after a work night out,’ I say, but that’s – no, that’s not enough, is it?

That’s too ordinary. ‘He always picks up the tab if we go for lunch or anything, and he always holds the door, which is …’ Chivalrous , I want to say, but it’s still not big enough.

I reel off more, knowing one will strike gold.

He compliments my outfits or hair sometimes, noticing if it’s something new.

He makes sure I’m included in casual after-work outings, always sends me things he’s seen online or out and about that remind him of me, he’s stood up for me in tough meetings a couple of times with senior managers, he always brings me cake when—

Oh, no, that’s something I do for him. One of our little rituals. I bring him a slice of cake whenever there’s a birthday cake in the office. It’s a nice excuse to see him and talk for a few minutes, and he always looks so happy to see me.

Gemma’s face creases, lines carving across her forehead and her mouth downturned as she grimaces.

Of course I’m not helping his case, I think; this isn’t doing anything except showcasing all the ways he gives me attention he probably shouldn’t be, drives home the emotional affair we’ve been conducting, and that’s not going to paint him in a good light at all.

But Gemma reaches over, places her hand on mine, and squeezes tight.

‘Oh, sweetie, no. Oh, no,’ she says, and she sounds as concerned as she looks. Pained, almost. ‘He’s breadcrumbing you.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t think I want to google that,’ Leon mutters.

Gemma tsks , and the table jostles a little as she kicks him lightly.

‘It’s not a sex thing, you pervert. It’s a boy thing.

A dating thing. When people do the absolute bare minimum and sprinkle in just enough effort and flirting to make you think they’re interested, when all they’re doing is stringing you along.

Because the attention makes them feel good, or they enjoy having this weird power over your emotions, or they’re just dickheads.

Whatever. Girl, you cannot be this blind.

Are you seriously going to break up a wedding because a guy is breadcrumbing you? ’

‘He’s – he’s not doing that.’

She’s making assumptions. She doesn’t know. It’s just all so much more than I can put into words, that’s all.

She gives me a sad, sorry look. ‘Even if he’s not – but he is, believe me, I read those texts … Whatever weird little pseudo- romance the two of you have going on, I’m telling you , he’s not in love with you.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea—’

Leon, to my surprise, is the one who interrupts.

And it’s in my favour, for once.

He tells Gemma, ‘Lay off her. If she thinks he’ll pick her over Kayleigh – let her go ahead. And if he doesn’t, well, fine. But at least Kay will still know what kind of man he is, and this can all be over.’

Gemma keeps her gaze on me for a moment, and bites the inside of her cheek, mulling over something. Whatever it is, she makes her mind up swiftly, and gives my hand another squeeze before drawing back to appraise Leon, eyes full of suspicion.

And – something clicks.

Something out of place and weird and so completely minuscule and forgettable is suddenly thrown into sharp relief, and I gasp.

‘You,’ I say to Leon. ‘You wanted to talk to Kayleigh. You had something important to chat to her about before the wedding. You were going to break up the wedding, too .’