My eyes fall on Vicky, my best mate, who I can see, even from this distance, is bleary eyed from the free-flowing prosecco and having to be supported by her husband Nick, who discreetly lets her lean on him. She’s made an effort tonight too. Her makeup, although now smudged and less defined, is a far cry from her usual shattered-mother-of-two look. Likewise, I imagine her being graced five minutes to quickly put a tong through her shoulder-length brown hair to give it a bit of life. Might’ve worked then but now it’s lacklustre and sad. Like us. When I saw her earlier, looking so composed and normal, it was like a warm blanket of reassurance had been placed around me. I’m so glad she’s here, despite me telling her not to put herself through it. But we’d both made a promise to Pia, and we had to do as she asked.

Vicky notices me looking at her and screws her face up into a grin, teeth on display. Her eyes shut as she juts out her chin – a gesture that makes her look the spitting image of her five-year-old-son Barnaby. She’s already two steps ahead of me in this grown-up game of life. She had the wedding and has moved on to have two kids too.

Now I’m on the path to having the same …

A heaviness lands on my chest at the thought.

I gaze back at Liam and the feeling doesn’t lift.

For the first five-and-a-half years of our relationship I wanted nothing more than this moment. I’ve wanted the commitment, craved that validation of our love – that declaration that I am the one he chooses over everyone else. And although I knew I never needed a ring to prove that to be the case – he is such a kind, loving and considerate soul, I realized in the end I did. Because that’s the thing, right? That’s where every failed relationship of my past should’ve been heading before it turned sour. The ring is how I know this is the real deal. That little piece of metal and that bling-bling diamond is what separates this love from the shit-shows and disappointments that came before. This is the path. This is what we all do. My friends all managed it – they’ve found the people who’ve declared their love despite the endless idiosyncrasies and flaws they stumbled across. My mates found the people who said, ‘You know what, you’re not perfect but I love you just the way you are,’ or better still, ‘You’re my kind of imperfect,’ and had worn the gowns or the suits to celebrate that match-up.

I saw them all doing it and wanted in on that narrative.

Liam is that storyline.

He was giving me all I’ve been hoping for. All I ever wanted.

Then Pia died.