I put my glass down and make my way into the bathroom. It’s empty, so I lock the door and subside onto the chaise lounge in the corner of the room. I stare at my reflection and contemplate what Patrick said. I’m sure he wasn’t lying. That was patently and painfully apparent. And I only have to remember Zeb’s odd hesitation when he mentioned why he’d agreed to be Patrick’s best man to know it’s true. Fucking hell, he slept with Patrick knowing he was engaged to be married.

I shake my head. The Zeb I know would never do that. He has too many ethics, and he’s too full of the desire to treat people well. Then I slump. “You obviously don’t know him,” I say out loud and the words are devastated, echoing the feeling in my eyes.

“Shit,” I say, scrubbing my face. “Fuck.” I make myself stand up. I can’t sit here like a twat. I’ll have to go back out there. I run cold water over my hot palms and brush my hair back. “Get a grip,” I advise my reflection. “Go out there and behave like the adult that he doesn’t think you are.”

I still as a desperate thought suddenly occurs to me. Maybe there’s still a chance. After all, he hasn’t been with Patrick this month and his reaction to him has mainly seemed to be a kindness with a slight edge of impatience. I know he’s enjoyed himself with me. The half-starved way he fell on me tells me that. Time and time again he’s reached for me, entering me every time with a deep groan as if he’s in heaven.

I know relationships have been built on less. But we’ve been together outside the bedroom too. Surely all the laughter and easy conversation have to count for something. Not against five years though, I think glumly. And Patrick is the finished product. Perfect exterior even if the interior is rancid.

Patrick could be lying, though. The thought comes out of the blue, and I seize it like it’s a life raft. Somehow, despite what he said, I still cling deep down to my knowledge of who my Zeb is. A man who’d never entertain sleeping with someone who was with someone else. He’d rather cut his hand off than hurt anyone. He’s kind and generous and thoughtful. How have I lost sight of that in the last ten minutes?

I straighten my jacket. “I’ll go out and talk to him,” I say out loud, seeing the resolution in my face. “I’ll ask him what’s happening. He won’t lie to me.”