It was Peter.“Sorry I’m late. Work. Had some asshole fuck up my day. You look good. Bought a bottle. Need a piss. Where’s the party?”He handed...me a warm bottle of prosecco and just walked in. “Er, hi Peter” I said. He walked right past me and ran up the stairs towards the toilet. I wasn’t very happy. I’d gone from happy to angry in the space of 20 seconds. This is why I don’t like Peter. Then all the issues he caused on my wedding day came flooding back and I went from angry to bloody angry in. ,’ he replied, and got on with eating. ‘Where are the women?’ ‘Ugh. They went home sometime.’ ‘About 4am,’ one of the others told me, ‘they called a taxi.’ ‘So you had a good time?’ I asked cheerily. ‘You’ll know how good it was. It’s on the company credit card.’ ‘What? You’ll pay that back.’ I was pissed at that. I would dock it from any bonus he earned. Worse, it meant my wife would see how much we had spent and on what. As it turned out, that was the least of my worries. Next week in the. More

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