15

I should never have relaxed. I should never have gone on holiday. I should have realized Lottie wouldn’t rest till she’d found something to channel all her hurt energy into. And it’s this. A marriage.

By the time I get to Selfridges, my heart is thumping and I have a head full of questions. Lottie, on the other hand, has a basket full of underwear. No, not underwear, sex kit. She’s standing looking at a transparent basque as I hurtle toward her, almost knocking over a rail of Princesse Tam Tam teddies. As she sees me, she holds it up.

“What do you think?”

I eye the stuff in her basket. She’s clearly been at the Agent Provocateur concession. There’s lots of black see-through lace. And is that an eye mask?

“What do you think?” she says impatiently, and jiggles the basque at me. “It’s quite expensive. Shall I try it on?”

Isn’t there a slightly bigger question we should be discussing? I want to yell. Like: who is this Ben and why are you marrying him? But if I know one thing about Lottie,