If she'd expected this to bring about the apocalypse, she'd have been sorely disappointed. While the declaration might not have been new, the stakes had certainly never been higher.
But Kimberley Walsh didn't appear to be registering this with her usual earnestness. Instead she chose to realign the cutlery in a maddening way that made Cheryl want to reach out and send it all askew simply because she could.
When drumming her fingers along the tabletop failed to produce any response she heaved out a sigh. "Kimberley, please say something."
She turned the knife over in her hand before setting it down again.
"I have Justin," she said, her voice a near-whisper.
Cheryl grunted and shook her head. "You don't love him."
"You don't know that."
"Really? So that's why you're still coming round me house. Sleeping in me bed. Telling me you want me."
Kimberley said nothing, because, really, what could she say to that?
Seven years. Seven years and still she'd found herself drifting back to Cheryl whenever one of them was lonely, or someone was crying, or they were both drunk or... they'd run out of excuses long ago.
"You're settling."
And that was enough to stir up Kimberley's more vehement emotions.
"I'm doing what's right for me, Cheryl. Okay? I'm where I want to be."
Cheryl smirked, seemingly unconvinced by the outburst, which only served to fan the flames further.
"And what about you? You were with Ashley that whole time. You married him."
"Only cos you wouldn't have us, Kimba. You wouldn't be with me."
She remembered that conversation, the first of many, but still the most damaging, the most integral as far as manoeuvring her mindset into its current position. The one that accepted a life with Justin. The one that kept Cheryl on the periphery of her heart. For all the good it had done her.
She shook her head out of her reverie. "It couldn't work. The band, Cheryl."
"Yeah, I know. The girls, the band has to come first. You've been spoutin' the same rubbish for six year now. And what's changed, Kimberley? Tell me that."
What's changed? she thought. Everything. Nothing. They were more successful and famous than they'd ever dreamt possible. Back then it was all a promise, an opportunity of a lifetime that was theirs to lose. Now it was a reality.
She closed her eyes to the possibility that Cheryl was laying before her. Heard her getting up from the table and felt her drawing near.
"I still love you every bit as much now as I did then, you know," she said softly.
Kimberley swallowed hard against the rush of blood drowning her ears.
Cheryl inched forward, until her knees knocked against Kimberley's thigh.
"So can we just stop pretendin' now please. You want me. You wouldn't keep coming back if you didn't. Can we just..."
She sighed. They both did. It was the impasse that they had found themselves at all those years ago.
"It's you and me babe, it's always been. That's why you put up with us when I'm acting like a loon."
Kimberley offered a meek watery smile at that.
Cheryl continued, "That's what keeps us all together, as a band. We're the glue, Kimba. You know it. And you know me better than anyone else. You know me inside out. I don't think there's anyone else I trust that much. That's why I let you in, Kimba, don't you see? You know all me secrets and you still want me. What does that tell you?"
Kimberley had fixed her eyes on the table, still occasionally nudging stray pieces of cutlery that had drifted imperceptibly from their positioning.
Cheryl scrutinised her face with growing desperation. What she'd painted as fact was now wavering into the realms of uncertainty.
"Just say it," she husked, her voice low, " Say it Kimberley and we can... You love me. You want me. You've always wanted me."
