‘Alexander. You left me on our wedding day. This isn’t a Sex and the City movie. You can’t say sorry and be charming and buy me a pair of shoes to make it all better again. You left me at the altar. I think I almost believe you when you say you love me, but jeez – you absolutely do not respect me.’

‘I do,’ he protested. ‘Of course I do. I just … I got confused. Marriage is such a big thing. It’s so final.’

I held up a hand. I was shaking. It really had just hit me that out of everything, the reason what he did was so horrific is that you don’t humiliate people you respect. I’d spent a decade with a man who didn’t respect me. That was mortifying. How had I ever let myself accept so little? I could have wept at the thought, were it not for the fact that I refused to let Alexander see me cry over him.

‘Stop,’ I said. ‘That’s enough. No.’

He said my name again, pleading entering his voice. It made him sound like a whiny little boy, and I hated it. I didn’t hate him. I hated how he behaved, and how he felt entitled to ask for another chance. He didn’t want that. Not really. If I gave in and said yes, he’d leave again. I didn’t know if that would be next week or next year, but he would. He’d only ever look out for himself, and only people who don’t love themselves settle for being treated that way.

‘We’re over, Alexander. You texted the wedding planner before you thought to give me a heads up on the situation. I was already in the dress, already at the church. I went on our honeymoon without you. Do you know how screwed up that is? I don’t know why you’re here. These garbled half-truths aren’t for me to hear; they’re for a therapist – or your next girlfriend. You’re not my problem anymore.’

‘I’m screwing this up,’ he said, actually crying now.

‘Past tense,’ I replied. ‘There is no “this” anymore.’ I closed my eyes and held the bridge of my nose. My head clouded with weight, the exertion of standing up for myself forcing my temples to throb.

And then the sound of water rushing through the upstairs pipes cut through the tension.

Patrick had obviously flushed the toilet, and the knowledge that there was somebody else in the house dawned on Alexander’s face.

‘Freddie?’ he said, and too quickly I nodded. I panicked. I could have easily told him it was my boyfriend, but for some reason telling the truth didn’t occur to me.

‘Uh-huh.’

Alexander might not know me in so many ways, especially now, but he and I had spent enough time together that he knew immediately that I was lying.