She was insightful. Jordan nodded. “In part. But think of me also as your cheerleader, right-hand woman, and a shoulder to cry on.” She sometimes said ‘therapist’, but somehow thought that might make Abby bolt. Abby struck her as an independent woman who rarely asked for help. Would she employ Jordan? She had no idea.

“Plus, if you’re a project manager by day, that’s the last thing you want to be in your spare time.” Jordan paused. “Are you neat at home?”

A smile broke through on Abby’s face. It suited her. She shook her head. “Nope. Marcus wins that battle. I’ve been known to leave coffee cups on the side for days, which makes him cringe.”

“You can’t be on top of things everywhere,” Jordan replied. She’d obviously struck a nerve. “What about your family?”

“My family.” Abby’s smile got wider. “They’re a damn sight easier to deal with than Marcus’s family. My mum, Gloria, is a university professor from Glasgow, but she lives in St Albans now. My dad mends vacuum cleaners.”

That made Jordan pause. “For a living?”

“He gets that a lot. But, yes.” She grinned. “He’s not my biological dad but he might as well be. He brought me up. His name is Martin. The same first three letters as the man I’m marrying. Perhaps all men beginning with Mar are special?”

Jordan inclined her head. “Maybe they are. My dad’s called Bob, so I wouldn’t know.” She paused. “Tell me how you met Marcus, and how he asked you to marry him.”

Abby smoothed out her blue jeans unnecessarily. “What can I tell you about Marcus? He’s a sweetheart. I’m very lucky to have him.” Her mouth twitched as she spoke. “He asked me to marry him after a romantic meal at his place. He got down on one knee and popped the question.” Abby paused. “It was old-fashioned and lovely. He’d asked my parents for my hand the week before, because he’s a gentleman. I’m not so in love with that, because I’m not my parents’ property to give away.” Abby’s foot jigged at speed. “Still, that’s Marcus: traditional and sweet. Plus, he makes a mean Thai green curry. My mum thinks I should marry him just on the basis that he knows his way around the kitchen.”

“I’ve heard of worse reasons,” Jordan replied.

“I’m sure you have.” Abby sipped her coffee before licking her lips, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. “So tell me why I should go ahead and hire you as my fake bridesmaid.”