‘Yeah, looking forward to it. Jess showed me those photos you e-mailed over. His gaff is like a set from a James Bond movie.’ That should be a compliment but somehow I know it isn’t.
I decide the way forward with Adam is to be determinedly upbeat. It can’t be so hard after all. Not under the circumstances – I’m marrying Scott Taylor in a fortnight. ‘Well, doesn’t every man secretly harbour a desire to be James Bond?’ I ask pleasantly.
‘Not me. You know, I’ve always been happy with simply watching the movies. I’ve always known he’s a fictional character. Must be fun though, having all that.’ He pauses, to be sure he’s got my attention, and then adds, ‘All that stuff. It makes a man pretty damned attractive. Pretty damned likeable.’
This is not the first time I’ve been forced into defending my relationship with Scott, and I doubt it will be the last; but it’s not a position I wanted to be in with Adam. I really don’t want to be drawn into these dangerous waters. Doesn’t he realize that the decent thing for an ex to do is stick to polite small talk about the weather? What makes him think he can be this direct?
Four years’ intimacy?
Polite small talk is not an option. ‘I’m not in it for the stuff. There’s much more to Scott than his stuff,’ I argue.
‘Like?’
‘He’s luminously, intensely creative but exposed. He’s stunningly desirable and modish yet quite charmingly open,’ I say.
‘Have you been practising that?’ asks Adam.
Well, yes, I have. I’ve started to write my wedding speech and I’d thought that was a pretty good opener but I’m not going to admit as much to Adam. I hoped my declaration would sound spontaneous.
Adam sighs, ‘You sound like a fan, not a wife. But maybe that’s no bad thing. I mean, you need to be a big fan to stomach hearing him go on about himself all the time, in that way he does.’
I don’t bother pretending that Scott doesn’t talk about himself; the truth is, he is rather self-focused but that’s natural under the circumstances and not in the least bit annoying, as Adam is hinting.
‘It’s not like he goes on about himself all the time out of vanity. It’s just he’s never met anyone more interesting than he is,’ I say. I’m disappointed that my tone is more defensive than upbeat.
‘The man met Nelson Mandela!’ points out Adam, snappily. ‘I can imagine that conversation, can’t you? Er, Nel, mate, did I tell you about the time when I shagged a couple of Scandi twins?’ Adam does an impressive impression of Scott’s northern accent; in other circumstances I’d be tempted to laugh. ‘I’ve just read this interview in Dazed and Confused; all he talked about was sex – all he joked about was sex,’ says Adam.
‘Well, sex is funny if you think about it for long enough,’ I defend. And I should know, as sex has been all theory to me for weeks now. Obviously, I’d rather strap raw steak to my body and stroll into the lions’ den at London Zoo than admit as much to Adam. Instead I concentrate on shielding Scott. ‘That interview took place before we got engaged.’
‘Oh yeah, ages ago,’ says Adam mockingly.
I’m sorely tempted to point out that not everybody needs four years to decide precisely nothing at all. There is such a thing as love at first sight and whirlwind romance but I sense that Adam would only scoff more, so instead I try to explain why the Dazed and Confused interview was so graphic. Truthfully, when I read it, I had been a little surprised that Scott mentioned the nun he deflowered and defrocked.
‘It’s not like he goes on about sex all the time out of choice either. People who interview him never ask him anything else. He’s got into the habit of talking about the stuff the rest of us keep private.’
‘Whatever you say. You’re the one who knows him.’
‘I am,’ I say hotly.
‘You’re the one who’s marrying him.’
‘That’s right.’ I need to draw this conversation to a halt. I hate it that Adam can rile me. I wish I was in a place where I was impervious to his digs. I should be. Why does he care so much anyhow? He has Jess now. And I have Scott. We’re not an ‘us’ any more. It’s