‘Have you thought about wrapping her in bubble wrap before you let her out the house?’

John the bartender leaned against the opposite side of the bar, he and Adrian both wearing the sort of bemused smile that made me feel extra punchy. I pressed my stack of napkins into the older man’s hand, apologizing profusely, as he swiped at his watering eye before a woman in a dusky-blue two-piece rushed up and whisked him away, giving me a filthy look as they went.

‘You look like you could use a proper drink,’ John said, eyeing our empty glasses. ‘Two anniversary specials?’

‘Two anniversary specials,’ Adrian confirmed. ‘And make them strong enough to loosen her tongue. I promised Sumi I’d get it out of you before they cut the cake.’

Ooh. Cake.

‘Fine, yes, I replied to his text to be polite.’ I kept my eyes on John as he mixed our drinks. There wasn’t nearly enough bottle-twirling for my liking, I’d seen Cocktail, I knew how this was supposed to be done. ‘I wasn’t brought up to be rude, Adrian.’

‘Is that right?’ John muttered under his breath.

Adrian grinned as I gave the bartender a double-take.

‘Here you go,’ he said loudly, sticking a steel straw into one of the drinks in front of him to taste his concoction. ‘Two Ruby Wedding Fizzes.’

‘It’s perfection,’ Adrian said, closing his eyes in rapture as he took a sip. ‘John, have I ever told you that I love you?’

‘Son?’

I turned to see Adrian’s less-than-woke dad staring at his only child with a look of intense concern on his face.

‘Not like that, Dad,’ he said, clapping the older man on the back. ‘Please don’t have a stroke during your own party.’

‘Although he could do a lot worse,’ John muttered not-quite-under his breath.

Mr Anderson blustered as I politely looked away, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing. ‘It wouldn’t matter to us, you know that,’ he waffled. ‘Your mother and I just want to see you settled and happy and—’

‘What’s up, Dad?’ Adrian asked, mercifully cutting him off mid-stream.

‘Your mother needs a hand getting the cake out the kitchen,’ he said, lowering his voice to explain further. ‘It’s, uh, quite heavy.’

‘It’s a triple-tier fruitcake,’ Adrian explained for our benefit. ‘She made it herself.’

I nodded, understanding all. Mrs Anderson’s fruitcakes were things of legend. I could have hollowed one out and lived in it and it definitely would have been more of a solid structure than my shed. ‘Do you need me to help as well?’ I offered.

‘I think two of us should be able to manage it,’ Mr Anderson said with an appreciative smile. ‘Lovely to see you back, Rosalind. We must have you over for dinner, I’d love to hear about America. Perhaps you could bring your boyfriend with you? If you’re seeing someone?’