He gestures for a drink, and we sit for a few minutes in a comfortable silence watching the dancers bopping about on the dance floor. I look at him affectionately. He’s always been my favourite cousin. He looks so much like his mum. A tumble of dark hair and those vivid hazel eyes. He’s small and fierce and funny, the way he’s always been. But then, with his home life, he’s had reason to be fierce.

The record changes and everyone on the dance floor cheers as “I Will Survive” starts to play. Felix shakes his head. “I cannot understand why a song about hating someone and being glad that they’ve left you is played at every wedding. It’s wildly inappropriate.” He sniffs. “Rather like your mother’s attachment to my ex-boyfriend to the extent that he’s here at her wedding.”

I look over at the big man who is the centre of attention of a laughing group. I’ve been at numerous parties with him, and it’s a very familiar sight. The man oozes charisma. “He makes her laugh.”

“Well, it’s good that he does it for someone.”

“Do you really mind him being around, Felix? I can tell everyone to stop inviting him places.”

He huffs. “No, of course I don’t mind. We’ve been over for a long time. I’ve told you this before.”

“What did he do to you?” I ask curiously. The drink must be loosening my tongue because Felix doesn’t usually divulge much. But I still remember when he came back from the weekend when he’d ended his relationship with Max, and I can clearly recall the air of devastation he’d had.

“He didn’t love me enough,” he says, and there’s a finality to the words that tells me I’ll get no more. “Which is definitely not your problem.”

I blink slowly. “What?’

“Love,” he over-enunciates loudly.

“I’m sitting right next to you, so there’s no need to shout, Felix,” I say crossly. “I haven’t gone deaf.”

“No, just stupid.” When I gape at him, he explains, “I overheard you having a row with Charlie.”

“Overheard, or stayed outside the door so you could listen?” He pastes an innocent look on his face, and I grimace at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t buy popcorn for that epic moment,” I say sourly. “The moment that Charlie dumped me. I know I don’t go in for long relationships.” He coughs, and I amend my statement. “I know I don’t go in for any relationships, but this is ridiculous.”

“Charlie hasn’t left you,” he scoffs, grabbing my glass and taking a swig of my drink.

“You obviously weren’t listening hard enough to what he said.”

He shrugs. “I listened very hard,” he says without a shred of shame. “Enough to know what the problem is.”