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‘You’re very cute, but we can talk tomorrow and we’ll see each other on Saturday.’

She makes a sad face. ‘Guess I could use an early night.’ She presses her fingertips to her lips, then places them on the screen. ‘Can’t wait until the weekend.’

‘Me either.’ I blow her a kiss and end the call.

I can’t doubt her interest in me, her commitment to seeing if we can work. And the friend she had to rush back for? Probably an ex that she doesn’t want to talk about, like I don’t want to talk about Tom or Lily. Nothing wrong with that. Loads of people are friends with their exes. But as I think this, a niggling in my gut stirs. What is that? Jealousy? Distrust? I need to shake it. I don’t want to be the suspicious person I was when I was with Lily, and I don’t want to ever pressure Casey again. But she misses me, and I miss her. We’re alone in separate cities when we don’t need to be, and Saturday feels too far away.

I log into the website for my London accommodation to check if it’s free tomorrow night. It is, so I amend the booking, then bring my flight forward a day. Buzzing with excitement, I pour myself another wine and start packing up my messy flat.

Chapter 29

Casey, London

Finally, Friday afternoon arrives, and there’s only one more night before Holly’s with me again. I’m desperate to tell her the truth about Eva so we can start afresh with no secrets.

Last night Jaz and I were up late brainstorming how to explain my situation to Holly. Jaz took her part seriously and threw various scenarios at me, which made me crumble in a heap, but eventually we came up with the simple plan that I’ll meet Holly at Heathrow, take her to where she’s staying and tell her the truth straight away. She’ll be upset, but if I can tell her when we’re alone, take the time to properly explain, she’ll understand, even if she needs space to process it.

I glance at my watch – just gone five-thirty. Eva’s been messaging me non-stop the past two days, everything from she hates me to she loves me to she’s glad we’re finished to begging me to come back. The latest is she’s glad we’re done and wants my keys to the flat. I offered to post them, but she insisted on meeting up, and since I still feel shitty about what I did to her, I agreed to meet at the pub across from work.

I leave my laptop on and my jacket over the back of my office chair, since I’m not done for the day, and head across the road. Through the window, I spot Eva perched on a bar stool at one of the high tables. She gives me a wave through the glass, and I give an upward nod in return and head inside.

‘All right,’ I say when I reach her.

‘Hello,’ she replies, a frosty edge to her voice. She slips off the stool and lifts her head to kiss me. I don’t want to make a show in the pub, so I offer my cheek, but she deliberately pushes her face in front of mine and her lips catch my mouth.

I recoil and glare at her.

She sits back down. ‘Calm down, it was just a peck hello.’ She points to a glass on the table. ‘Got you a pint.’

‘I just came to give you the keys, Eva.’

‘You can’t have a drink with me?’

‘No. I need to get back to work.’

‘It’s five-thirty on a Friday afternoon and you need to get back to work?’ she asks, with a disbelieving arch of her brow.

‘Yeah, I’m busy.’

She points to the glass. ‘You’re going to let a pint go to waste just to avoid me?’

I sigh. ‘Fine. One drink.’ I place her keys on the table followed by my phone and wallet. ‘There’re your keys. I’ll come on the weekend to get the rest of my things.’

Eva sips her champagne, and I’m relieved to see her engagement ring finger is bare. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be home.’

I pick up the keys. ‘Then I’ll keep these and give them back when I’m done.’

She snatches them from me and drops them into her handbag. ‘No, you won’t. It’s my flat, and I don’t want someone who doesn’t live there having keys.’

‘Well, I want my stuff, so if you can’t be there can you please get one of your friends to let me in?’

‘Fine. I’ll ask Leila.’ She glances out the window and then back to me. ‘I take it you’ve not had second thoughts, then.’

I cock my head. ‘I’m surprised you want to be with a working-class girl from the East End.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean it. I was upset.’

But she did mean it; she always carried an air of superiority, thinking she was just that little bit better than me – that she had the upper hand, not only in our relationship, but in life. ‘No. I haven’t changed my mind.’