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‘Gross. What a gross man.’

‘But that’s how it ended. I ate tiramisu and he watched me eat it and then we split the bill and he drove off before I was even in my car.’

‘So it wasn’t amazing.’

‘No. We didn’t even split the bill fifty–fifty, he made me pay more because I had dessert.’

The final humiliation of the evening was watching him carefully analyse the bill and figure out how much exactly we each owed. I almost paid for the whole thing just to get out of there faster. I don’t even mind paying, I am happy to pay for his meal, but it’s the feeling it all evokes, the notions of who should be eating what, paying for what, and what it means when they don’t. I wish everything didn’t have heavy meaning attached to it, but it does. My worth reduced to the cost of a dessert that he’ll stick his finger into but won’t pay for.

‘You should have added a finger-touching fee,’ Xavier says.

‘I should have.’

‘So why did you lie and say it went well?’

‘Because a bad date is humiliating.’

‘No it’s not. Most dates are bad. Finding someone you click with is harder than finding someone you don’t.’

‘Even if I know intellectually that’s true, it still feels like shit.’ I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

‘It’s not your fault. Except for the part where I liked his picture. Which he brought up, by the way.’

‘Oh, my god. This guy sounds like a nightmare.’

‘He was,’ I say.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

Xavier picks up his book, and so do I, but then I put mine down again. I haven’t told Xavier about Lana coming to Ettie’s party, because Hillary told me not to, but that suddenly feels like a big mistake.

‘I have to tell you something,’ I say. ‘Lana is coming tomorrow.’

‘Coming where?’ He is reading and only half-listening.

‘To Ettie’s birthday party.’

‘Why would she be coming?’ he says, putting the book down and sitting up very straight, suddenly registering what I’m saying.

‘Your mum invited her,’ I say.

‘And she said yes?’ He sounds shocked. Good shocked or bad shocked, I don’t know.

‘She did. She’s coming.’

‘Why would she do that?’ he says.

‘Your mum or Lana?’

‘Both of them.’

‘I don’t know.’ I pause. ‘Your mum thinks she can help you two get back together. And I guess Lana feels the same.’

‘And you knew this? All week?’