I nod. “Sleeping with you that last time made me realise that I’d never really loved you, Patrick. It was like the scales fell off my eyes all of a sudden and I looked at you and I realised that I pitied you.”

He flinches. “Why?” I hesitate, even now unwilling to deal the blow, and he gestures sharply. “Get on with it.”

“I pity you because you have never been true to yourself in your life. You tell lies to so many people, but the most important person you do it to is yourself. You’re pretty, but there’s nothing else to you, Patrick. You see yourself in other people’s eyes and you exist to please them when you should be happy with yourself.” I breathe in. “I’ve felt more for Jesse in this last month than I ever did with you.”

“How can you say that? This isn’t what was meant to happen.”

“What was meant to happen?”

He stares mutinously at me. “You were supposed to wait for me, and we could have been together once the dust had settled.”

“That dust is your marriage. Don’t you care about Frances? She’s a good girl. Aren’t you bothered that we’d have hurt her?”

He shrugs, something cold showing in his eyes. “She knows the score.”

“She’s not a fucking umpire. She’s a person with thoughts and feelings, and to be honest I really don’t think you should marry her.”

“Because you want me?”

“No, because she deserves more than you’re capable of giving her.” I pause, acid running through my stomach. “Oh my God, he was right,” I say slowly.

“Who was right?”

“Jesse.”

“Why? Did he get the answers for the homework you set him?” he says snidely.

“He said you were trying to get me back. We actually had a fucking row over it because I said you’d never do that.” I stare at him. “He was right.”

He stares at me for a long second, and I think we both see the years we had together fading away like sparks from a fire. Then he straightens up and buttons his jacket. “Whatever. I’m not terribly interested in that boy’s opinions. Thankfully your stupid relationship isn’t my business.”

I nod slowly. “And Jesse isn’t either. Please don’t speak to him again unless it’s just bland civilities. He’s not your concern.”

Spite crosses his face and I marvel that I ever thought I loved him. “I don’t think he’s yours anymore either, Zeb. Not after seeing his face a few minutes ago.”

I go cold. “What do you mean?”

He smiles. “He saw us, Zeb. Stayed long enough to watch us kiss and then fucked off sharpish.”