at the glass and realized my hand was shaking.
‘Desperate times?’
‘Desperate measures,’ John finished. ‘Would you like to get some fresh air?’
With watering eyes, I looked back into the main room to see Lucy and Patrick still deep in conversation, Patrick talking and Lucy staring at him, positively rapt.
‘OK,’ I said, following him out the door and into the gardens. Patrick wouldn’t like it, but I didn’t like him cancelling on me the night before either.
It was another hot day. The notoriously reliable weathermen were still promising that the humidity would break soon and we would get an almighty downpour to test my father’s shed roofing skills. I made a mental note to sleep in my cagoule for the next couple of nights.
‘Did you have a good time last night?’ I started as we stepped off the path and onto the lawn. Keep off the grass signs be damned. ‘I mean before we saw you. And after we saw you, obviously, just generally, did you have a nice night—’
‘Ros,’ he said, cutting me off before I could talk myself off a cliff. ‘You did know it was me, didn’t you?’
‘No!’ I exclaimed, walking with all my weight on the balls of my feet to avoid sinking through the soil in my spike heels. I was aerating it, they should be grateful. ‘Of course I didn’t, I would never.’
‘What, because of Patrick?’ John asked with a dark look.
‘Yes but also because you’re married,’ I said, lowering my voice as I looked back into the Carriage House. ‘I wouldn’t do that to Patrick or your wife, it’s not fair. If you’re not happy then that’s for you to work out bu—’
‘What did you just say?’ he interrupted again. ‘My wife?’
‘Will you stop doing that?’ I sighed, moving further away from the party. ‘Don’t butt in while I’m talking, it pisses me off.’
He followed me across the lawn, his long legs catching up with me too quickly. ‘I’ll stop interrupting you when you start making sense. What are you talking about, my wife?’
‘The giant blonde,’ I replied, stretching my hand high up over my head. ‘The really pretty woman from the bar, the one you’re married to.’
‘Oh, that wife.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone as he nodded. ‘You mean the one I divorced two years ago?’
I looked back at him, mouth agape.
‘You missed that part of the story, did you?’ John asked, combing his hair out of his eyes. His forehead was already damp, it was so hot out. ‘So you probably didn’t get the bit where she was cheating on me then refused to give up her half of the business in the divorce because her dad gave us half the startup money. So now I have to work with my ex-wife, on the businesses I built up from nothing.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ I said, allowing my weight to fall back into my heels, anchoring myself into the ground. Everything suddenly felt unsteady. ‘I’m sorry.’
He gave a dignified sniff and stared off into the distance while I took in this new information, adding it to my Facts About John pile. I already knew he worked hard and could be funny when he wanted to be. I knew he was a bit too tall but he was handsome and had quite nice hair. He was blunt and a know-it-all but he was kind and generous and caring when it mattered. And I knew that when we’d danced, I’d desperately, desperately wanted him to kiss me which made no sense, because … Patrick.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said when we had both been quiet for altogether too long. ‘Camille said she was “the wife” so, obviously, I thought … I didn’t know about the rest of it.’
‘Really must get Camille to add “ex” into her title,’ he muttered. ‘Force of habit, she’s known her for years.’
‘She didn’t seem that keen,’ I added and John showed a hint of a grin. ‘It must be really hard for you, to have to work with your ex.’
‘Well she gives about as many fucks about the business as she did about our relationship,’ he replied, before shaking his head at himself. ‘But I cope. I’ll be able to buy her out someday. Not all of us get as lucky with our exes as you did.’
He began to walk on again and I prised my heels out of the recently watered grass, trying not to break my ankle in the process.
‘Do you want to get