Page 21 of I Knew You Were Trouble

I type out a quick reply:

All part of the service.

Oh no, that’s awful. Delete.

She’d do the same for me.

What the hell does that mean? Adriana doesn’t believe I exist – why would she doanythingfor me? Delete!

Looking forward to it.

Really? I’m looking forward to upending another woman’s life? Delete, delete, delete!

Of course. See you tomorrow.

There. Simple, clear, and not even the slightest hint that I’ve completely lost my mind.

And I’m certain I have. Swinging wildly between opposing emotions, in a constant state of conflict and confusion… Getting caught in an endless loop of questions that beget even more questions… Mentally replaying moments with Jon, and not one of them seeming like it actually happened.

It was only a week ago whenmyworld was upended. It simultaneously feels like minutes ago and ten years ago.

‘They only had prosecco,’ says Margot, appearing at my side, holding aloft an open bottle and two plastic cups. She sits, then pours and hands me a brimming cup, mostly froth. ‘To my cousin, who is beautiful and brave and about to kick some serious arse.’

I snigger – how could I not? – then take a sip. Only bubbles go up my nose, making me splutter.

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Bad pour.’ She reaches over and sticks her forefinger in my cup.

‘Oi, what are you doing?’

I watch, fascinated (and horrified), as the bubbles recede down the side of the cup. ‘It’s the quickest way,’ she replies. ‘I saw it on Instagram.’

‘It’s thedisgustingway. Here.’ I swap my cup for hers and she shrugs, taking a drink.

My phone, which is set to silent, buzzes on the small table in front of me and I flip it over to read the incoming text message. It’s Willem:

Where are you staying?

I catch Margot reading over my shoulder and give her a sharp look.

‘What?’ she asks rhetorically. ‘Just seeing what Thor has to say.’ She reaches over and scrolls up.

‘Margot,’ I say, snatching the phone away.

‘He’s not exactly a sparkling conversationalist.’

‘I’m not sure what you were expecting. It’s not like we’re friends.’

‘Oh, I don’t know – ahintof flirtation. Is that too much to ask?’

‘Flirta— Remind me again why I brought you.’

‘You didn’tbringme. I invited myself along. And you need me.’

She’s probably right but I’m starting to wish this was a solo journey. I stare at her a moment and she steadily meets my gaze. Typical Margot.

‘So,’ I say, holding up my phone, ‘the address, please?’

Margot obliges and I send the address to Willem, having to override autocorrect four times to spell the street name correctly.

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