Fuck. It was happening again. I was Bruce Willis in Die Hard 2 with the same shit happening to me twice. “And don’t say I’ve got a right to be angry. I know I’ve got a right to be angry. The thing is, until you barged into my office like…like…like Bargey McBargeface…I didn’t have to be angry because I didn’t have to think about you at all. I could think about ordinary things like my job and my boyfriend and the fact that one of my coworkers doesn’t realise he’s an amateur porn star.”

“An amateur—”

“Don’t ask.”

Miles stood up, straightening his jacket in a way that said I am being the only reasonable person in an unreasonable situation. “Look,” he said. “I knew it was a risk coming here.”

“What did you think you were risking, exactly? Because it seems to me like you had nothing to lose from this little visit whatsoever.”

Apparently he was going to blank that. “It’d mean a lot to JoJo if you came.”

“I don’t even know JoJo. Why does he give a shit? Why should I give a shit?”

“You were a big part of my life, so it seems right that you should—”

This was making sense. Bullshit sense. Selfish sense. Very, very Miles sense. “Oh, right, so it’s an absolution thing. You want me to be there so that you can put the shitty thing you did to me behind you and start a new shiny life with your new shiny husband and say to yourself, It’s okay, no need to feel bad, Luc’s fine with it, he came to my wedding and everything.”

“Think about it.” From inside his jacket, Miles retrieved a delicately printed piece of cream-coloured card and laid it on the desk beside me. “Moving on will be best for both of us.”

And that was the problem. I had moved on. I’d moved on really fucking well. “Just go.”

He just went, stopping in the door on the way out to give me an enigmatic “See you around.” Then I was left sitting at my desk staring at a wedding invitation, with swirly silver writing saying MR. MILES EDWARD GREENE AND MR. JOHN JOSEPH RYAN REQUEST THE PLEASURE OF YOUR COMPANY AS THEY CELEBRATE THEIR UNION. RSVP.

Chapter 3