‘I couldn’t! I mean, Sage said … I promised her …’

I trail off feebly. Luke doesn’t just look angry, he looks hurt. And weary. He looks like he’s had enough, I think with a lurch. But enough of what? Of Hollywood? Of me?

‘Don’t worry, I get it,’ he says, sounding tired. ‘You rate your loyalty to Sage above your loyalty to me. That’s fine. I know where I stand.’

‘No!’ I say in dismay. ‘That’s not … I just …’ Again I trail off, twisting my fingers miserably. I can’t find the words. Maybe there aren’t any words, except the ones I don’t want to say because he’ll think I’m shallow, which I’m not.

Well, OK, maybe I am. A little bit. But then, everyone in Hollywood is shallow. I mean, compared to lots of people here, I’m deep. I’m profound! Doesn’t he realize that?

‘They’ve been really clever,’ I say at last. ‘You have to admit that. Lois thought up the whole thing. No one has any idea.’

‘I think you’ll find they’ve been less clever than you think,’ says Luke dryly. ‘When this gets out, neither the press nor the public will be very impressed.’

‘Maybe it won’t get out.’

Even as I’m saying it, I know I’m being naive. Everything gets out.

‘It’ll get out. And then I think they’ll both have even more trouble finding the kind of work they want.’ Luke shakes his head. ‘Becky, I have to tell you, I won’t be working with Sage any longer than I have to. I’ll wrap up our work properly, stay professional – but it’s over. There’s no point my advising someone who’s going to ignore everything I say. I’ve never met anyone so unprincipled, so capricious, so stupid … And I’d advise you not to get too mixed up with her either. She won’t do you any favours.’

‘Yes she will!’ I say, hotly. ‘She’s my friend! She’s my—’

‘Your passport to fame and fortune. I get it.’

‘It’s not “fame and fortune”,’ I say, over-defensively. ‘It’s my work. It’s my career. I’m styling her for a premiere. It’s my big chance! Aran says—’

‘Aran doesn’t love you.’ He cuts me off again, this time so fiercely that I take a step back in shock. ‘I do. I love you, Becky. I love you.’

His eyes are only inches away from mine. And as I gaze into their dark depths, it’s as though I can see our whole life together. I can see Minnie being born. Our wedding at my parents’ house. Luke whirling me on the dance floor in New York. My Denny and George scarf.

I don’t know what he can see in my eyes, but he’s gazing just like me, unblinking, as though he’s trying to drink me in.

‘I love you,’ he says again, more quietly. ‘And I don’t know what’s gone wrong here, but …’

I feel suddenly close to tears, which is just stupid.

‘Nothing’s gone wrong,’ I say, gulping. ‘Nothing.’