Maybe it’s apt that the Marlowe who will shortly walk out of this bedroom and put herself into a cab to go and intentionally seduce a rich, powerful, gorgeous man for her own ends doesn’t look or feel familiar at all. I’m the woman who dresses up out of obligation, for family celebrations or when Athena drags me out for girls’ drinks.

I used to dress up back at uni, when lectures were few and far between and I had so much spare time on my hands that I could spend hours trying dupes of designer face masks or giving myself a mani-pedi. I even dressed up for lectures and tutorials, because every class with Joe was essentially foreplay and every foray into the Music Department was a chance to bump into him.

I was young and romantic and naïve as fuck. I just wish the reminder of how deluded I was would make me feel less cynical and more righteous about my reasons for dressing up to the nines tonight.

But it doesn’t. It just makes me feel sad.

‘God,’ I whisper. ‘I feel like I’m tricking him, or something. This isn’t me.’

It’s a relief when she meets my eyes in the mirror and whispers, ‘This is you. It’s just a particularly glamorous, seductive part of you that doesn’t get to come out and play very often because you’re so busy being an amazing mother and taking care of Tabs.’

I nod, only partially convinced, and she ploughs on.

‘Just remember, he’s a big boy. You may be scared shitless, and this may all feel really fucking weird, but you’re going to do what you need to do, and Brendan will love every minute of it. Don’t feel remotely bad taking his money.’ She leans in and whispers in my ear. ‘I promise you, he’s going to think you’re worth every penny.’

‘You’re good,’ I tell her, nudging her with my bare shoulder. ‘That was almost as good as the sexy pep talk Nick gives Kat in The Wedding Date.’ I shoot her a smile that’s far brighter and braver than how I’m feeling.

She shrugs in her cute, French-chic way. ‘I know. But also—do me a favour and just take a look at yourself. Forget what you know. If you saw this woman on the street, you would be wowed. There’s no question. You’re a fucking knockout, and it’s a travesty that you’ve been celibate for so long. Go let Brendan clean out those vaginal cobwebs with his big Sullivan dick and remember to have fun.’

I take a deep breath and study the girl in the mirror again. This time, I allow myself to stare objectively. She may not look or feel quite like me, but my friend is right.

She looks fantastic.