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‘So if your options are you tell him and risk the friendship, or you say nothing and crack on with best man duties…?’

‘Then I crack on with best man duties,’ I reply.

‘You are a better woman than I am,’ she says. ‘If it were me, I’d probably turn up in a wedding dress and tell anyone who would listen how it should have been me.’

‘I’ll keep that as a plan B,’ I reply, allowing myself one little joke.

‘That’s my girl,’ she says.

We sit in silence for a moment, the clink of my fork the only sound.

‘We’ll get through it,’ JJ tells me. ‘As a team.’

‘I’m not sure this falls under agent duties,’ I point out.

‘Friend duties, obviously – I don’t see money in this,’ she jokes. ‘You know I’d never leave you to go through this one on your own. Hell no.’

A lump builds in my throat that has nothing to do with the sheer volume of pasta I’m pushing down it.

‘You don’t have to?—’

‘I do,’ she cuts in. ‘Because I am an excellent friend. Also I’m dying to meet a woman who is happy to be called Tink – what’s her real name?’

‘Cordelia,’ I reply.

‘No comment,’ JJ replies. ‘But, you know, I still think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe you weren’t in love with him all along. And maybe this is simply you panicking because things are changing. I know I always want what I can’t have…’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I reply, although I don’t believe that, and I’m sure she doesn’t either.

We fall silent again. Until…

‘Hey, you don’t fancy another blind date, do you? It could be a nice distraction, or a good way to find a date for the wedding?’ she asks – presumably joking.

‘Not a chance,’ I reply.

‘Someone to take your mind off things. A rebound. A palate cleanser…’

‘I do not need a palate cleanser,’ I say firmly. ‘I need a lobotomy.’

‘I’ve dated guys who felt like getting a lobotomy,’ she jokes. ‘But okay, point taken. No more dates. For now.’

‘For ever,’ I correct her.

‘We’ll see,’ she sings.

‘JJ…’

‘Okay, okay,’ she says. ‘I’ll stand down. For the moment. But if a leading man literally falls out of the sky and lands at your feet, I’m taking it as a sign, and you should too.’

‘Men falling out of the sky is generally a bad sign, but sure,’ I reply.

‘You’re not alone, you know?’ she says, getting serious again for a second. ‘You’ve got me, and you don’t need a man – look at me, I don’t need a man.’

‘You need, like, five men,’ I point out.

‘Exactly, stop looking for one man, let’s have a good time. And who knows? Maybe this isn’t the story you think it is.’

‘I swear to God, if you start calling this a plot twist…’ I warn her.