‘Fucking Eva,’ I tell her.

‘Eva?’ she squeaks. ‘She’s honestly the stupidest bimbo I’ve ever met.’

She is stupid. When she was with Paul, we all got together for a game night, and Eva was so certain that Wales wasn’t a part of the United Kingdom.

‘And didn’t Paul move to Canada, just to get rid of her?’ she continues.

‘Well, it seems like she got over him, by getting under Daniel,’ I reply.

‘That bastard,’ she says. ‘How did you find out?’

‘I just… happened upon them in the gardens, having a sneaky chat. They went into the maze to get some privacy I imagine, but they barely went inside. Absolute morons.’

‘They were probably worried they wouldn’t be able to find their way out,’ she says with a half-smile.

‘They said they were in love with each other,’ I start weakly, my voice still wobbling. ‘She said she wasn’t going to let him go through with the wedding, he told her he had to. Then they… they kissed.’

Ali wipes my eyes with a tissue.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asks me.

‘I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do,’ I start, substituting a little of my sadness for some anger. ‘I’m not going to marry him.’

‘Well, that’s fortunate,’ Ali says with a smile. ‘Because your make-up is fucked.’

I can’t help but laugh, and it feels good, despite the painful feeling from the sucker punch to my chest.

‘I can’t face anyone,’ I whisper.

‘And you don’t have to,’ Ali replies.

‘Can you take care of it? Can you tell people the wedding is off? I… I don’t even know where to begin.’

‘This isn’t my first rodeo,’ she says. ‘I’ve called off a few weddings in my time.’

She really has.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I just want to get out of here, but I don’t know where to go. I can’t go home, back to the house… What happens with the house?’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Ali insists. ‘We can sort all of that.’

‘I just want to get out of here, out of London…’

‘You need a holiday,’ Ali says.

‘I’ve already bloody paid for one, haven’t I? My stupid honeymoon that isn’t going to happen now.’

I cock my head as a wild idea occurs to me.

‘I could still go on honeymoon,’ I say.

‘What, like a make-up holiday?’ she asks. ‘Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘No, I could go on my own,’ I say. ‘I could go, chill out, try and work out what I’m supposed to do now – I’ve put off writing my book, because I’ve been so caught up planning this wedding. I could treat it like a sort of writer’s retreat.’

It was never my intention to write on my honeymoon. I have been neglecting my work in favour of planning and (almost) executing my wedding, but safe in the knowledge that I have a few weeks after we get home to finish my book before my deadline. It would be a pretty full-on few weeks though, so I may as use this bonus free time to write without the clock ticking in my ear.