“Yes, absolutely.” Georgie smiled, the way she always did when his name was mentioned. “To be honest, his feet smell after he’s been on the construction site all day, but that’s okay, at least he’s done an honest day’s work. And his obsession with war films is driving me insane, but that’s fine, because he has issues with my Downton obsession, so it’s live and let live.” She shrugged. “Love is about compromise too. It can’t just be how one person in the relationship wants it. It’s how you both want it—that’s how you become an equal couple.”

“And I know Dylan and you had great chemistry in the bedroom,” Brendon said. “But you know, will he still be getting it up in forty years’ time?” He helped himself to more wine. “Chances are he’ll be watching Question Time and plucking hairs from his ears and sniffing his own farts.”

“Ick,” Megan said, screwing up her nose.

“See, my point exactly. If the thought of your beloved plucking hairs from their ears and farting doesn’t turn you on, then it’s a no brainer.”

“Well—” Georgie started.

“It’s happened now,” Megan said firmly, “and there’s no going back, but—”

“But what?” Georgie asked.

“If either of you ever think these things again, or anything similar about the next guy I meet, because I seriously hope I won’t be a spinster forever—”

“Oh, what a ridiculous thing to say.” Brendon tutted dramatically.

“Well, you never know.” Megan sighed.

“We promise to tell you, cross our hearts,” Georgie said. “We should have, and I’m sorry.” She looked at Brendon.

“Yeah, we should have,” Brendon said, shaking his head. “But you seemed so in love with him. So consumed by him.”

“I thought I was. Dylan is a force to be reckoned with. He is a whirlwind of determined energy. He knows how he wants things to be and he makes it happen. I got swept up in that, in pleasing him, in trying to achieve his idea of perfection.”

“Well it seems he’s not best pleased now, and everything is far from perfect in Dylanland.”

“Oh, dear.” Megan’s heart sank. She’d had one painful, apologetic conversation on the phone the day after the non-wedding. He’d begged, cried, been angry and had finally sworn that he’d make her see sense. In the end she’d put the phone down and had had no contact since. She’d taken her stuff from his house when she’d known he was away then had posted the key through the letterbox. “You best tell me.”

“Oh yes, spill the beans,” Brendon said. “God, I can’t believe he went on the honeymoon.”