‘And I’m so glad you’re coming. I couldn’t do it without you.’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, you could.’

‘Okay,’ she conceded, grinning. ‘I probably could. But I wouldn’t want to.’

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just nodded.

‘Besides, who would Mum complain to about the misogynistic symbolism of wedding rings if you weren’t there?’

This time when I laughed, it nearly felt genuine.

JULY, ONCE

JULY, ONCE

‘So what happened with the guy?’

‘Which guy?’ I asked, picking up my glass of wine. I hadn’t seen Lina in a couple of weeks and when we’d texted it had mostly been about work and Matt. Dinner had been my idea, but she’d chosen the restaurant. Thai, in Glebe, just around the corner from my place so we could stroll back there afterwards and watch bad TV. She was going through a Pretty Little Liars phase.

‘You’re impossible.’

I sipped my wine. ‘This is good,’ I said, changing the subject.

‘Yeah, it’s not bad. Matt joined a wine club.’

I raised an eyebrow.

She grinned. ‘You know—you sign up and they send you a dozen bottles every three months?’

‘I know what a wine club is, Leen.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘But don’t they have bottle shops in Westmead?’

‘Funny.’ She smiled as our eyes met. ‘It means we get to try all sorts of different things. You know me, I’d just buy that same King Valley pinot with the grapes on the label every time, if I could.’

I took another sip. She would, too. ‘It’s a good wine, though.’

‘Isn’t it? And it has no preservatives, so it doesn’t give me hangovers.’

I laughed. ‘That just means you’re not drinking enough.’

‘You’d know,’ she teased, giving me a look. ‘But we weren’t talking about wine.’

‘Weren’t we?’ I asked, pleading ignorance.

‘Tell me what happened with the guy.’

‘I honestly don’t know which guy you mean.’

‘Jesus, Cait.’

‘What? It’s been weeks.’

‘You’re impossible,’ she said again. ‘The orthopaedic surgeon? House in Paddington with a plunge pool?’

‘Oh yeah. He has a name, Leen.’

‘Yeah, well, I can’t remember it.’

‘Neither can I,’ I said, flicking a lock of hair off my shoulder. It was freshly dyed, pinker than usual.

‘Cait!’ She sat back in her seat.

‘I’m kidding!’

The expression on her face suggested she wasn’t sure.

I straightened. ‘I am. It’s Justin. I even remember his last name.’

‘I’m surprised you even know his last name.’

‘We did go on five dates.’

‘Oh, five. That’s serious.’