I feel vomit rise in my throat, and panic fills me. I dash towards the door just as he comes to life. “Wait, where are you going?” he shouts.

“To find Jesse.”

“But I’m getting married.”

“Not to me, thank goodness. You are now totally someone else’s problem.”

“What about my fucking best man?”

“Ask someone who still gives a shit about you. Good luck.”

Chapter Thirteen

Zeb

I bang into the flat. “Jesse,” I shout out. “Jesse?”

But the silence mocks me with the knowledge that he isn’t here. I don’t even need to look. He has a way of infusing a place with his presence and I always know where he is.

I see a scrap of paper on my desk and draw near, almost afraid to pick it up. It’s a page that’s obviously been torn from his exercise book and his messy scrawl fills up the page with impatient letters. I draw in a breath that hurts my chest and read it.

Dear Zeb,

I’ve left. To be honest it’s looking like I never should have been here in the first place. I saw you and Patrick on the balcony earlier. I think that, along with your behaviour when I tried to stop you seeing him, tells me everything I need to know.

I lower the page and suck in a sharp breath, feeling moisture burn at the back of my eyes. Fuck. It just gets worse. I go back to the letter.

I realised when I saw the two of you that this whole month has really been about you and Patrick and never about me, which just goes to show my arrogance because I thought differently. I thought a lot of things which I’m glad I never said now.

Anyway, I wish you happiness. I’m not sure you’ll get it to be honest because Patrick is a complete arsehole, but maybe that’s what you need. And I realised today that I’d like you to have what you want because you spend far too much time catering to everyone else’s needs and ignoring your own. So, if a spoilt man child is what you’re after, then have at him.

Just please be happy. I don’t think you are or have been for a very long time, but I don’t think you pay any attention to that, which is sad. Be happy, Zeb, in whatever form it takes.

I won’t be coming back to the agency so you can take this as my resignation. I’m presuming you won’t hold me to anything. I just can’t see you anymore. I don’t want to. I’m going away for a bit so don’t call round at the flat.

Jesse