Neil insisted Abby leave a couple of hours before the end of the day, so she got home early. In his mind, he was probably preparing her for the future long days and nights to come by giving her a few hours off. Whatever his motive, Abby was grateful. But it truly couldn’t have been more absurd to walk through the door to her flat carrying a huge cake that said Congratulations! on it. Well, half a cake after the office had a go at it. It now said Congratu. But still.

Nothing felt worth celebrating at the moment.

Abby put her cake down on the kitchen counter, then walked over to her sofa and sank into it.

This wasn’t the big-day countdown she’d read about in bridal magazines. Then again, she was pretty sure none of them had the bride sleeping with the bridesmaid either. She leaned forward and picked up Perfect Bride magazine from the stack on the coffee table. She’d bought it just after Marcus had proposed, determined to have the perfect wedding. However, she’d lost interest after a while, and Marcus had taken over. He was the perfect groom. He deserved the perfect bride. Could Abby be that still?

Her phone buzzed beside her with a text. Jordan.

The familiar tremor hit her body. She was almost used to it by now.

We need to talk. I’m on your street. What number are you?

Abby’s heart leapt up her body and into her throat as she vaulted off the sofa. She went straight to the huge bay window and stared down. Across the street, Jordan was looking around, then staring at her phone, shifting from one foot to another. Abby couldn’t avoid her if she was standing right outside.

Then Jordan looked up, and their gazes connected.

Abby’s heart exploded in a rush of joy. It was such a traitor.

This wasn’t who she was marrying. She had to keep a lid on this, accept her promotion, become Mrs Montgomery. Everything was organised. She owed it to herself and all her future dreams to go through with her plans. Besides, marrying Marcus was hardly a bad plan. For everyone else in the whole wide world, it would be the best plan in the world.

Abby needed to put all of this into perspective.

However, Jordan was right. Maybe talking would help get her head straight.

Abby pointed towards her front door, then took a deep breath. She plumped up a few cushions even though she was pretty sure Jordan wouldn’t be worrying about those. Then she ran to the mirror, and smoothed down her hair. She still had her work gear on. Was a red dress a good suit of armour? She had her doubts. Her eyes were still puffy, but she’d fixed her make-up at work. She’d have to do.