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‘Uh-huh,’ I hummed. I’d seen it was a new message from Claire.

‘Harri.’ His brow lifted. ‘I’m over here being honest. It feels good. What’s up?’

My chest tightened, and looking at him, I felt I could really trust him, but I didn’t want to unleash yet another episode of my chaotic life. It was embarrassing.

‘It’s just a whole lot of drama, trust me. You don’t want to be involved.’ I crossed my legs into a basket on the bed and pressed my hands to my head.

Jamie lay back lazily. ‘Try me.’

I grimaced. Where do I even begin? ‘No, honestly. I . . .’

‘Harri! Fuckin’ hell, spill the tea!’ He nudged me, then laughed.

I shrugged. ‘Right. OK, well . . . Do you have Instagram?’ I asked.

He shook his head.

Of course, he would be off the grid, what a big weirdo!

‘Right, well, Instagram is like this—’

Jamie burst out laughing. ‘I know what Insta is, for fuck sake. I’m not fuckin’ eighty!’

I blushed. ‘Right, well, on Instagram, I’m kind of a big deal. I have a channel, I’m big on TikTok, YouTube . . . blah blah blah. So—’

‘How many followers do you have, like?’ he interrupted, looking curious.

I felt my face twist. ‘Well, as of today, I have about seven million on Instagram, but that’s really shot up in the past fortnight.’

His jaw was scraping the Rimmel stain on my carpet. ‘Seven million!’ he repeated incredulously. ‘Are you serious? What the fuck do you post?’

I sort of laughed, then straightened up. ‘Have you heard of the trad wife trend?’

He shook his head, then his eyes lit up. ‘Wait, is it like OnlyFans stuff?’

‘Oh yes!’ I nodded. ‘Pensioners wank into their cardigans while I get my tits out for them . . .’

His eyes expanded; his whole expression said: I’m completely lost for words.

I slapped his arm hard. ‘No, it fucking isn’t OnlyFans!’

‘Ow!’ He rubbed his arm. ‘Sorry, I got carried away . . .’

I laughed. ‘Although some people would think my channel is possibly a bit weirder. Basically, I make videos on how to be a good wife – how to cook, clean and keep myself and my home perfect for my husband.’

Jamie seemed more taken aback than he had been at the possibility of OnlyFans.

‘And you believe in all that?’ he asked. ‘You believe in living to please your husband?’

I paused. Because I sort of did. I grew up with my mum doting on my dad and me so much. I loved how they worked everything out together as a team; he paid the bills, and my mum ran the household. Well, until she had to work when he disappeared for five years. And, yes, I loved being the person who ran our home. Like my sole purpose was to make sure my husband was happy, our life was organised and tidy, which obviously, in hindsight, was an epic fail on my part.

‘Well, I think it’s a nice concept, yeah,’ I said.

‘Really?’ Jamie almost tittered. ‘Because it sounds outdated. He goes to work all day, and you stay home and clean then?’

I smirked, knowing that was the principle. But in reality, I actually became the provider, because I videoed the content, and my social media profile meant husband didn’t have to work outside the home.

‘I would want my wife to be my equal personally, not just a trophy partner,’ he said as he shook his head.