But I have to. This isn’t just about our friendship anymore. This is about everything.

I step forward resolutely, one foot in front of the other, and wait till she looks up. Her head jerks, and for a moment she looks like a cornered animal. Every muscle in her body is tense. Her eyes dart about frantically, as though to check whether anyone else is with me—then, as she accepts I’m alone, they gradually settle back on me.

“Suze…” I begin, but my voice comes out all husky and I don’t quite know where I’m going.

“Did you…” She swallows, as though she can’t bring herself to say it, and I nod.

“Suze—”

“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her voice trembling. Her eyes are bloodshot. She looks ill, I think suddenly. Ill with worry. And it’s not because she thinks Tarkie’s unsafe. It’s something else, something she’s been keeping from all of us.

For what seems like an age, we just look at each other, and it’s almost as if we’re having a silent conversation.

I wish you’d talked to me.

I do too.

Things have got pretty bad, haven’t they?

Yes.

So let’s sort it out.

I can see Suze’s defenses lowering, little by little. Her shoulders slowly drop. Her jaw relaxes. She meets my eye properly for the first time in ages, and I feel a horrible pang at how desperate she looks.

But there’s something else going on here. There’s a kind of shift in the balance between us. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the one to get in scrapes and Suze has been the one to help me out of them. It’s just the way we are. Now, though, things feel reversed. I don’t know exactly what’s been going on—but I do know something: Suze is in a big old mess.

I have a zillion questions I want to fire at her, but I think she needs to calm down a bit first.

“C’mon,” I say. “I don’t care what time in the morning it is, we need a titchy.”

I lead her into the tequila-tasting tent, and she meekly follows, her face downcast. I order tequila shots and hand her one. Then I face her full-on, with a businesslike look, and say, “OK, Suze. You need to tell me everything. What’s up with you and Bryce?”

And of course, as soon as I see her face, I know.

I mean, I pretty much knew as soon as I saw him appear. But it’s seeing her face which drives a kind of dagger blow into my heart. “Suze, you didn’t.”

“No!” she says, as though I’ve scalded her. “Not completely…”

“What’s not completely?”

“I…we…” She looks around the bar. “Shall we find a better place to sit?”

“Suze. Just tell me.” There’s a lump in my throat. “Have you been unfaithful to Tarkie?”

I’m having a flashback to their wedding. Suze looked so radiant and beautiful. She and Tarkie were so hopeful and optimistic. We were all so hopeful and optimistic.