“Yeah, well, when you put it like that …”

“Sez, you can’t tell Josh any of it.”

“But shouldn’t I be honest with him?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it out loud from Lindsey. Somehow that would justify it, because, despite her bossy ways and her frequent dips into sarcasm, she was the most principled person I knew. Her moral barometer was foolproof.

She came and sat opposite me, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. “Listen to me. No good can come of telling Josh anything more than what he already knows.”

“But—”

“No! There are no ‘buts’. It would hurt him. And it would hurt your relationship.”

“But what if he asks me a direct question? What then?”

“Lie.” Lindsey was telling me to outright lie. How the hell did I get myself into this stupid, crappy, fucked up mess?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice, even though we could hear the TV from the study, and it was highly unlikely Nick was listening to anything we were saying. “There are things I’ve never told Nick—stuff that would really hurt him if he knew.” I frowned. I wondered if I knew any of those things. I racked my brain. Did I know anything about Lindsey that would qualify?

“That guy,” I whispered, suddenly realising. “The one from Queensland. Before your wedding.” Her lips pulled into a taut line and she nodded slightly.

“Never told him.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. I knew I fucked up and I knew it would destroy Nick. And I wanted to marry him. So …”

She let the last thought trail off and took a biscuit out of the packet.

So, Lindsey had never told Nick about her fling with that guy in Queensland the month before their wedding. Right. I was convinced. I would never, ever tell Josh all those things about James, even if we only ended up as friends.

Lins and I finished our Tim Tams in silence. Then my phone bleeped. I dug it out from under Nana’s blanket. A text from Josh:

Hey. Just wondering if you’re free to FaceTime now?

I must have looked as stricken as I felt, because Lins got up and came to read over my shoulder.

“Apparently, the American boy has something he needs to say.”

“But I can’t talk to him like this.” I indicated my whole self, which was a wretched, wretched mess and not fit for other humans to see.

“Text him back. Tell him you’ll FaceTime in half an hour. Then get your bum in the shower.”

I did exactly as I was told.

Chapter 23

Josh had seen me first thing in the morning, no makeup and hair askew. He’d seen me jet-lagged, crying, tired, hungover, hangry, and after a deluge looking like a drowned sewer rat.

But he wasn’t seeing me post-break-up until I had showered and put on a lot of makeup.

At Lindsey’s command, I took myself off to the guest bathroom to shower and tackle the mess that was me. After I dressed, I piled my curls on top of my head in a loose bun—my signature “I don’t know what to do with my hair, but hopefully this looks okay” style. I glopped on twice as much moisturiser as usual, hoping it would soak into my skin quickly enough to make me look half-alive.