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‘So, I will get James to message Nathan about meeting up at a pub before the ceremony – there’s one just up the road in the village. You can meet him there and chat.’

‘Do you think that will work?’ I say.

‘Yes, of course. Men love any excuse to go to the pub in the middle of the day!’

* * *

I barely sleep that night. I can’t stop thinking about the way I spoke to Nathan, and the tone of his voice when he told me he’d like me to leave his apartment. Way to go, Athena. He was a decent guy all along, but you couldn’t take that at face value, could you. At least I’ll have the wedding to try to convince him, I suppose, but that only makes me more nervous for morning.

By the time the sun eventually rises, I’m feeling distinctly frazzled, but I do my best to partake in the get-ready rituals with Trudi and the other bridesmaids. Only the people Trudi describes as ‘the principal players’ – her, her parents and the bridesmaids – had rooms for the night before the wedding, as James was spending the night with his parents and the best man, and everyone else will be turning up in time for the ceremony at one. The venue itself must have cost a fortune. It described itself online as ‘a secluded country hotel’ but that doesn’t do it justice. My room is enormous, with a super-king-sized bed and the smoothest cotton sheets I think I’ve ever encountered. When I opened the curtains this morning, I found myself looking out over the immaculately maintained formal gardens towards a lake, with countryside beyond. It’s stunning, and I totally understand why Trudi fell in love with it.

Trudi has planned the day with military precision. We will meet downstairs for breakfast at 8.30, before convening in her room at 9.30 for hair and make-up. We need to be done and dusted by midday, giving her forty-five minutes to get her dress on and have pictures with her parents, and me exactly one hour to meet Nathan and persuade him to forgive me.

Then, I need to be back at 1 p.m. sharp to accompany her down to the room where the ceremony will be held. After the ceremony, there will be the obligatory photographs before the reception where, as chief bridesmaid, I’ll be seated next to James’s father on the top table. Normally, this is the part of the day that would make me feel the most nervous: having to make conversation with a man I’ve never met before, who will no doubt write me off as ‘common’ within ten minutes. But that pales into insignificance compared to the nervous excitement I feel about seeing Nathan again.

I don’t know the other bridesmaids that well. One of them is an influencer friend of Trudi’s, and the other is someone she met since moving to Essex. They both seem nice, although I can’t help laughing at how Dannii (the influencer) keeps pointing out ways in which Trudi could have got freebies in return for a bit of promotion on her channel. I suspect anything like that would have given James’s father kittens. The chat flows easily as the hair and make-up artist does her stuff, no doubt helped by the champagne. And then just before midday, already in my bridesmaid dress and with a full face of make-up, I say goodbye to Trudi and leave for the pub. At least I’ll look my best for when he rejects me.

* * *

Nathan is sitting on a bench in the beer garden when I arrive. He looks up as I approach, and it’s safe to say I’m the last person he’s expecting to see, because his jaw comes as close to dropping as I’ve ever seen in real life.

‘Nathan,’ I say once I’ve reached him. ‘Please, before you say anything, let me explain. James told me to meet you here. And I realise that won’t make any sense without the context. It turns out one of my best friends, Trudi Richards, is marrying one of your friends, James Bowes-Cavendish, today.’ He doesn’t say anything, so I carry on filling the gaps. ‘James told me the full story between you and Kayleigh and I’m so, so sorry. I should have let you finish without clambering onto my high horse and bawling you out like that. Look, I know I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but if there’s anything, anything I can do to make this better… Basically, I’m so sorry,’ I tell him.

‘No. I’m sorry,’ he says eventually, and I smile. It is lovely to hear his voice again. In fact, it’s only now that I realise quite how much I’ve missed it. ‘I should have started at the end and then filled in the blanks for you. You’d think I would know that, being a supposed communications expert. When I went over it afterwards, I completely understood why you thought I was behaving like a spoiled child.’

‘I should have trusted you more.’

‘That’s always easy to say in hindsight, though, isn’t it? Anyway, I can’t believe we’re going to the same wedding. What are the chances of that?’

‘You’re still coming then?’

‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I suppose I just thought, you know, with me being here and everything…’

‘That I’d find an excuse not to come?’ He laughs, and the sound of it melts something inside me. ‘I don’t think James would have taken that very well.’

‘I’m sorry about Kayleigh and the pregnancy too,’ I tell him, keen to get all the apologies off my chest.

His voice turns a little wistful. ‘So am I. More than I expected, if I’m honest. But the truth is we’d never have worked, so it wouldn’t have been a good environment to bring a child into.’

‘And what’s happening now? Have you got her out of the flat yet?’

He sighs. ‘No. She’s still convinced I’m going to come around. I’m actually starting to wonder if she has a medical condition.’

‘So where are you staying?’

‘With my parents. The ultimate humiliation. To be fair, I think Mum’s really enjoying having me home, but it’s a bit weird. She insists on doing all my laundry, and she irons my underwear. I mean, even if the idea of my mum handling my pants didn’t give me the ick, who does that?’

An image of Nathan in freshly laundered underwear sneaks into my mind, so it takes me a moment to realise that he’s still speaking.

‘So, you’re a bridesmaid, eh?’ he says.

‘Yeah,’ I tell him. ‘Chief bridesmaid, in fact. Trudi and I go way back. Tell me about your nickname.’

He laughs. ‘I got off lightly. There was one guy in our year who got himself the unfortunate nickname Bronco.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’