“Funny that she replied to me this morning saying that she would bring the wine to match your menu. So, you can stop madly texting your fiancée now.”

“You are just as bad as when we were kids, always one step ahead of me. Fine… can’t wait.” He waves his index finger in a circle in the air.

“Oh, I can tell,” I say, holding my beer in the air toward him. “You’re welcome.”

Nic and Rem laugh because it’s always like this between us.

Our conversation then drifts over to the draw for this week’s Premier League games. But the whole time we are talking, my mind is on Harper. It’s like the moment I tell my brain it can switch off from work, it creates space for her.

I wasn’t really listening until Flynn’s voice boomed next to me and had my head snapping up to look at him.

“Oh my God, you’ve slept with her already, haven’t you?”

“What?” I reply, shocked from my daydreaming.

“Sucker, you owe me that hundred pounds. I told you he wouldn’t last a week.” Rem slaps his hand on the table, pointing with his other hand at Flynn, and I glare at them.

“What the hell, you all bet on Harper and me sleeping together? How fucking old are you? Seriously, that’s just pathetic. Or was it just you two?” Feeling the aggravation building, I turn to look at Nic.

He shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry, buddy, but I had you at four weeks. I thought we had warned you enough to stay away from her that you would’ve lasted longer.”

“You’re all fucked, you know that, right?” I snap, putting my glass down on the table.

“Yes, but are you fucked?” Flynn is already laughing at his answer before he finishes talking.

“I hate you.” I glare at him, and we both know I don’t mean it.

“Fellas, and there we have it. That nonanswer is the answer we are all looking for.”

I decide I’m not sharing what is going on between me and Harper because I’m not entirely sure where we are heading.

“Moving on, I’m not talking about this.” And just as Flynn is about to continue with his barrage of annoyance, Rem looks down at his ringing phone and then holds his finger up as he answers it.

“Ashton,” Rem says into his phone.

One word and I push my beer away, attentive and looking at him to try to work out his body language which will tell me what sort of call this is.

“Damn it,” Rem replies to him, not looking happy.

All the joking at the table is gone, and we sit up, ready to run if we need to. Which sounds ridiculous, because in reality, I know she is safe, but it’s just the feeling running through me right now.