Vera nodded, only there was something else there. A but in her expression. She and John exchanged a glance. He shook his head so slightly it was almost imperceptible, then scratched at one of his cuticles. Suddenly, there was a wall, invisible but impenetrable, them on one side, me on the other. Only this time, it wasn’t about long-abandoned Rachel; this time, somehow, it was about me.

‘We might as well,’ Vera started.

‘Oh, come on, V,’ John sighed. ‘Not right now. Not when we’re –’

‘She deserves to know,’ she snapped.

Her words shook me, and I felt my pulse tick up.

John’s smile deflated, but his eyes split me in two, imploring me to forgive whatever was about to be said. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, we didn’t want to say anything just yet.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Everything’s been so good. I know we’ve only known each other, what is it? Two months? It’s just we’ve all gotten so close, and we don’t want to screw that up.’ He bit his lip. ‘But since Vera’s already begun …’

It was less than two months, actually, but those six weeks had seemingly changed everything.

John took Vera’s hand in his, and they stared at me, and for a second, I know it sounds crazy, but I swear I thought they were going to ask me to have a threesome. The truth is, I can’t say I hadn’t thought about it. The truth is, I would absolutely say yes.

Vera took a deep breath. ‘See, you don’t have to worry about spending money for several more months – not with us, at least.’

‘Huh?’

‘John has to leave,’ she said finally, her hand slipping from his.

I noticed the wine spilling first. I’d dropped my glass, and the liquid swam over their wide walnut table, where there were already many stains.

‘Sorry,’ I said, turning the glass right side up, but the wine was already a bull’s-eye the size of a dinner plate.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Vera said, tossing one of her linen napkins on top. Ruining it, surely.

‘I don’t understand. What do you mean, leave? You guys are separating or something?’ I asked, the words sharp, slicing at the security we’d established.

Vera laughed. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Far from it,’ John said, as jealousy stabbed at me instead. They were as rock-solid as the table – stained, wine-soaked, but held together.

Vera cleared her throat. ‘I suppose I didn’t start off quite right. I’m leaving, too.’ Her lips pressed together, as if that were somehow answer enough.

‘What?’ I asked, heart pounding brutally. She’d said she’d protect me, but was I disposable to them, a human takeout container? Toss it in the trash when you’re done – no need to do the dishes.