‘My big sister taught me everything I know,’ she grinned. ‘You said that’s what you liked about Bri getting married. She’d let love outweigh being afraid.’

‘Shut up.’ I laughed again but she knew I was only teasing. I had said that about Bri. It’s funny the stuff a sibling can remember.

‘Doesn’t he live around here?’ Freddie pressed, and I nodded.

‘Around the corner,’ I said. ‘About ten minutes away.’

She smirked. ‘What are you waiting for? Fix it!’

I stared at her, and she wiggled her eyebrows as if to say, Huh? HUH?

‘I … don’t know,’ I said.

‘Go!’ she squealed. ‘Go on!’

I was shaking as I picked up my phone and keys, absentmindedly looking in the mirror but not even really seeing myself. She was right. It was self-sabotage. I was so utterly petrified that I was deliberately, unconsciously, pushing Patrick away when facts were facts: we were perfect together. I loved him. Mum had asked when we got back from honeymoon if I really wanted to jump into a new relationship after my engagement had ended like there was only one answer to it. But there wasn’t. I did want to jump into this new relationship, because it was good and healthy and full of kindness and love. It was the best possible relationship to jump into, because it was everything my engagement wasn’t. And so who cared about anything else?

I loved him!

I. LOVED. HIM!

‘Are you staying, or coming with?’ I asked Freddie, my hands trembling but my nerve steady. She was right. She was absolutely, totally right.

‘Oh, I’m definitely coming with,’ she replied, smiling. ‘I want to see this!’

46

We started out in the direction of Patrick’s, picking up pace with every street sign we passed.

‘I’ve never been inside his house, you know,’ I told her, counting up the street numbers as we passed each house.

‘Who hasn’t been to their boyfriend’s house?’ said Freddie, pushing into a light jog.

Her jog made me run faster, so that we started in a trot and then broke out into a canter so fast that we actually went past number 34b, where he lived, and had to backtrack by half a dozen houses when I realized.

‘Okay,’ I said, outside of the gate to the entrance of his basement flat. ‘How do I look?’

‘Urm, sort of sweaty,’ Freddie said, pushing hair from my face.

‘Urgh. How’s my breath? I always get bad breath after I’ve been emotional.’

‘I can help with that,’ she said, holding up a hand as if to signify that I should hold that thought, and she rifled through the pockets of the hoodie tied around her waist.

She gave me a breath mint and I said, ‘So, are you following me to his door, or …?’