I knew this would happen. I knew it was a total mistake getting involved with a man who was sexy as fuck, confident, funny, fit, loves dating, doesn’t want commitment arghhhh. I knew I’d fall for him. And end up wishing I’d never met him. Or wishing that I wished I’d never met him, because now I know him, I can never imagine forgetting him.

And we haven’t even slept together.

The only upside that I can cling on to, is that there is one massive, inescapable difference between him and Dad. He doesn’t believe in love, and he won’t ever get married. Haha lucky escape.

There are so many downsides though. So many other differences between him and Dad as well – he’s not self-obsessed; he’s caring; oh and he doesn’t shoot me down, he likes me just as I am. And he’s not distant, he’s the first person I’ve felt I could share anything with (and that covers the whole gamut from the last slice of pizza, to my innermost secrets).

So, anyway, despite my head being royally screwed up and having a love-hate relationship with him that he knows nothing about, I am pleased he’s still coming to the party.

Though I suspect this might be our grand finale. But I am determined to make the most of it.

Maybe if I play this right we could actually go out with, as Bea suggested, a bang?

However, I am exasperated to the point of crying with the other man in my life. Dad. Because although I think he’ll show up to the party, his heart obviously isn’t in it. This could be because some other part of his body is in somebody else, if you’ll pardon the crudeness.

The phone rings. ‘Are you okay? What’s happened with your dad?’ Noah’s concern makes me want to blub it all out. So I do. I never blurted things like this to Robbie because it was somehow different. He’d grown up with them, criticising my parents to him would have been like criticising his. Okay, yeah, we were normal kids who had a moan, but we didn’t come out with anything really damning. It was ‘I hate him because he won’t let me stay over at yours’ not ‘I hate him because he’s a heartless shitbag who’s trying to ruin my life and makes Mum cry’. See? There’s a difference.

It’s different with Noah, I seem to be able to talk to him about anything. We don’t have the emotional history that screws it all up, puts the brakes on.

He also actually listens and doesn’t brush me off with an ‘it’ll be fine, can you move to one side, the game’s about to kick off’.

‘How can he even think about not turning up?’

‘You’re kidding? Your dad’s not turning up to his own wedding anniversary party?’ He gives a low whistle.

Cool down, Rosie, breathe. ‘He’s been texting, trying to give me excuses. I reckon he’s panicking cos Mum has invited some of his, his,’ I can’t call them girlfriends, or flings, ‘some of the people he plays with.’