For a moment I thought about hurting him. I had a crazy, off-beat idea that I could smash a glass over his head. But it ran through me in an instant and vanished, leaving me shaking.

I had no idea where I was going. It was sheer good luck that I stumbled on April, who was chatting to a couple of guys in the queue for the bar. I was so worried she would think badly of me for wanting to go home, but she responded with concern. She gathered me up and took me to get my handbag and coat, then climbed into a taxi with me. She waited, patiently, for half the ride without saying anything. By that time I’d got myself together enough to tell her what had happened.

‘I must have led him on,’ I told her, tears starting to work their way out. ‘I must have made it happen.’

‘I don’t think you can assume that,’ April said, gently. ‘There are a lot of assholes out there. And even if you did … Well, I don’t think anyone could blame you.’ She put a hand out to my arm and rubbed it.

‘But I feel like … like a shitty cheat.’

I regretted saying it immediately. I’d been with April while she’d kissed other men, and while her second marriage fell apart as a result. Now on to her third, and only one year in, she was just as willing to be unfaithful.

‘Sorry. I’m being a twat,’ I said.

‘You’re just being a human being who’s had a rough time,’ she argued. ‘There’s only room for one twat around here, and that’s going to be me.’

I felt a little better about it all after that, but then fell back into awful guilt the moment I walked through the front door and found you half asleep on the sofa.

‘Hey, Lou-Lou,’ you said, sitting up and taking my hand. You drew me to sit next to you, your eyes and body drowsy. I was shaking hard now, from the alcohol withdrawal and the guilt of it all. ‘Come here.’

Wrapped up in your hug, I felt even more profoundly stupid for having risked this. Us. All of it.

But it was you who apologised.