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I give a small smile. ‘That sounds nice.’

She leaves and I top up my wine, contemplating her comments, but I can’t imagine Casey hasn’t been sleeping with other people. It’s been almost two months since we were together. Can she even go that long without sex?

‘Hello,’ a soft voice beside me says.

I turn and it takes a few seconds to register that it’s the woman I photographed the night Caleb hired me.

‘Mind if I sit here? I think your friend has left,’ she says.

‘Um, sure. Yes, she has.’

She smiles her pretty smile. ‘I’m Rochelle.’

‘Holly.’

‘I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I think you’re good,’ she says, gesturing to the bottle.

‘I am. You don’t have one, though,’ I say. ‘You’re welcome to some of this.’

‘Thanks.’

She takes Nat’s stool, and I ask for a clean glass, then fill it to the halfway mark. We spend the next hour or so talking. She’s interesting and vibrant and attentive, and I lap it up.

Over the course of our chat, the bar has become more crowded, so she’s standing now and leaning in so we can hear each other over the noise. She smells good – a subtle floral perfume. I lift my mouth to her ear to speak, but she shifts to face me and our lips brush. I pull my head back. I want to kiss her, but whether it’s genuine attraction or wanting to pay Casey back for all the sleeping around she’s doing, I’m not sure. Either way, I press my lips to Rochelle’s and she responds. She tastes white-wine sweet, and for a few beats of my pulse, I lose myself. Until a vision of Casey’s face swims into my mind, and I’m painfully aware these lips aren’t hers.

I move away and touch my fingertips to my mouth. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’

Her eyes search my face. ‘Someone else?’

I nod. ‘I thought I could. I wanted to.’ I stand and grip the bar, swaying.

She catches me by the elbow. ‘Do you want me to get you a cab or walk you somewhere?’

‘No. Thank you. It was nice to meet you. I’m … I’m sorry.’ I push my way through the crowd, stumble down the concrete step and gulp in the fresh evening air, but my chest is so tight I feel like I can’t get any into my lungs.

Tears spill down my cheeks as I walk along Little Bourke Street. I want to call Casey, but I won’t cope if she’s with someone else. I rest against a shopfront, pull out my phone and open Instagram, then go to my follower list, find who I’m looking for and press the video call icon. After a few rings, the call connects.

‘Holly?’ Jaz’s dark brows pull together, daylight flooding the space behind her.

‘Hi, Jaz,’ I say with a sob.

‘Oh, babe.’

I wipe my cheek. ‘I miss her so much.’

‘She totally misses you, too.’

‘Really?’

Her eyes widen. ‘You have no idea.’

‘She hasn’t met someone else?’

Jaz makes a face. ‘Serious? She goes to work, comes home and mopes about the flat, and if she does go out, it’s to mope about art galleries. She’s a total sad fuck. It’s doing my head in. Will you come back, please? Is that possible? I can’t be doing with her crying anymore.’

‘Crying?’

‘Yes, crying.’ Jaz pauses. ‘Hang on, let me go over here.’ She walks a few steps and leans against a building. ‘She fucked up, but that’s because she was all confused.’