I give up, feeling frustrated at myself for even looking. I imagine being an old woman, telling my story to my grandkids as Rose does in Titanic… except somehow ‘Granny banged a movie star on holiday and then ruined the relationship for no real reason’ isn’t quite as epic or as romantic as Jack and Rose’s tale.

I look over at the busy bar to see some guy talking into Ali’s ear. I can tell he’s older than she is, even from behind. He has his hand on the small of her back – I’m surprised she hasn’t given me the signal yet. Usually, if one of us wants the other to swoop in and save them from unwanted attention, we place our right hand on our left shoulder.

I watch as the man’s hand slides further down her back, grabbing hold of her arse. I jump up from my seat and hurry over.

‘You okay?’ I ask her, whispering into her other ear.

‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Here’s your drink.’

‘Where’s yours?’ I ask, noticing only one on the bar in front of us.

‘We’re going elsewhere,’ she says.

‘What, you and…’ I’m about to refer to the random man next to her, except he isn’t random at all ‘… Marty?’

‘Lila, how you doing?’ he asks me. He pulls me in for a hug, as if we’re old friends and not just people who have met twice and on one of those occasions he tried to pay me for sex.

‘Shocked,’ I reply. ‘What about our double date?’

‘This is my date,’ she says.

‘What?’ I reply. ‘I’m so confused.’

‘We’re a couple,’ she tells me.

Marty lifts up his right hand and dances like Beyoncé does in ‘Single Ladies’, showing me that there are no signs of his wedding ring.

‘A couple?’

‘We’ve been seeing each other long distance,’ she explains. ‘I was, well, sort of embarrassed about it. You know me, I don’t really do relationships…’

I remember, back when we were in Italy, Ali saying she really liked him, but she never mentioned it again after that, so I never really gave it much thought. I just assumed it was a similar deal to Max, who she was also really into… until she wasn’t.

Marty looks great. He seems happier and way more relaxed, and he looks as if he’s been working out too – either that, or Ali has been working him out.

‘I can’t believe it,’ I say.

‘Where did you think I was last month when I went away for a week?’ Ali asks giddily, clearly so very proud of herself for such a well-executed con.

‘Well, I could tell you were being kind of secretive about wherever you were going. I just thought you were going to the Czech Republic for more breast…’ Ali stares daggers into me, so I reroute my sentence ‘…cancer charity fundraising.’

‘Nope,’ she reveals with a cackle. ‘I was in LA, hanging out with this guy. And he’s here for work now, so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.’