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I took a breath. “Jess. I’m flattered. You’re gorgeous and funny and I’m not made of stone. But I’m married to your best friend, and it ends here.”
She nodded slowly. I’d expected her to cry again. She didn’t. She breathed out a long wobble of a laugh and tucked a curl behind her ear.
“Good,” she said. “Thank you. I think I needed someone to say it. Callum never said no to anything, which is why he said yes to Becca from his office.” She wiped her nose on her wrist. “God, I’m a mess. I’ll stay out of your way. And I’ll put a pillow over my head at night.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do. For both of us.”
She stood up, barefoot on the lino, her vest sliding down her round stomach, her knickers a pale triangle under the cotton, her washing drying on the radiator behind her like a flag of surrender. I made myself look at her face.
“Can I at least have a hug?” she said. “A proper one. Then I’ll go to bed like a good girl and we’ll never speak of it.”
She opened her arms. She was twenty-nine, warm, curvy and wearing next to nothing, and every cell of me wanted to say yes and also, in a quieter, wiser voice, wanted to say yes very carefully.