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Instead, I say, “I think maybe people just don’t know him that well.”

“How can you get to know him when he doesn’t talk to people or come to work events?” Taylor cleans the lenses of her glasses on the corner of her cardigan.

“He likes to keep himself to himself, that’s all.”

“Which makes me wonder why he’s agreed to help you out.” She slides her glasses back on and wiggles her eyebrows.

“If you’re about to suggest he might be interested in me, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he’s in a relationship,” I tell her. “With a man,” I tag on.

Taylor picks up a pen. “He is?”

“I told you soon after he started working here about how he said he’d had no sleep because Paul had kept him up all night snoring,” I remind her. “And I figured this is the reason, maybe, why he’s kept himself to himself. He’s obviously a very private man.”

I’ve always found it hard to relate to people like that. I would happily talk to anyone for any length of time about any subject. I get not wanting to air your dirty laundry, but I find it hard not to interact with people. People are so diverse and so interesting, and we’ve all been put on this planet together, so we might as well get to know one another, even if my version of myself is somewhat edited depending on the audience.

“So, if you’re right and he’s, what… gay?” Her forehead scrunches a little at that. “Why has he agreed to come to a wedding with you and pretend to be your date? It doesn’t make any sense.”

My shoulders slump. “That’s what I’m struggling with. I keep thinking he must have an ulterior motive.”

Or is that only because I usually have a hidden agenda when getting to know guys? But the only one I ever have is to find my Romeo. That can’t be Owen’s objective, though, so what’s the catch?

“Maybe he’s bi,” Taylor suggests, tapping her pen on the desk. “Or maybe he’s fallen out with Paul and is using you as revenge.”

Neither of these things had crossed my mind. “Do you think?”

“Has he spoken to you about Paul?” she asks.

“No. I only asked him yesterday, and then we met for lunch. I did ask if it’d be a problem with Paul, and he said no, it was just one day,” I explain.

“Hm… interesting.” Taylor scratches her head with the end of her pen. “You need to find out a bit more about Paul. How long have they been together? How serious is it? How did they meet? That sort of thing.”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “It’s his day off today, as he worked Saturday. Is he back in tomorrow?”

Taylor picks up the rota and scans the list.

“Yep. He’s on a late shift. Won’t be in until ten.”

I haven’t thought too much about the feeling I had this morning when I realised he wasn’t at work today. And I definitely haven’t thought about the number of times I’ve stopped to think about what he might be doing on his day off.

Is he spending it with Paul? What does Paul do for a living? Do they do Wordle together? Do they go to the gym? If not, then what do they do? What does Owen even like doing on his days off?

He doesn’t strike me as an idle person. I can’t imagine him lying in bed all day bingeing Netflix. Is he at a garden centre? Does he have a garden of his own that he’s currently tending to?

I’ve already built this whole life for him in my head: the immaculate home he shares with Paul, the perfectly manicured lawn, modern water feature, Indian slate, and dense shrubbery shielding them from nosy neighbours.

At lunch, I was tempted to sit in his secret garden by myself, but it felt wrong somehow, like I was cheating on him. So instead, I sat with Jamal, who asked why I disappeared yesterday at lunchtime. I told him I’d needed to make a few calls outside. He didn’t seem to realise I’d left with Owen. Maybe the idea of Owen and me eating lunch together was so unlikely it never even crossed his mind.

No matter how I look at it, Owen Shea is still a huge mystery, one I’m apparently going to have to solve if I’m going to pass as his devoted girlfriend. Owen and I turning up together won’t fool anyone unless we make this believable, especially not Sydney, who’s always known me better than I know myself.

Will she smell a rat?

Can Owen and I really pass as devoted lovers?

I suppose only time will tell.