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.'

She looks away again, her jaw tight, then takes a sip of her drink and places it calmly on the table. ‘Where's this new girlfriend of yours, then? I haven't seen you with her.'

I narrow my eyes. ‘What do you mean you haven't seen me with her? Have you been following me?'

She gives a casual shrug. ‘I've been following you on socials and about the place. You've not been with anyone.'

‘Don't do that, please.'

‘Well, where is she? There's only one Holly following you on Instagram, so I assume that's her.'

I stiffen. ‘You better not have messaged her.' My mind quickly computes the last contact with Holly. It was this morning and she seemed like herself. Actually, she sounded even happier than she normally does.

‘And why would that be a problem?' Eva says.

Now my jaw tightens. ‘Because us splitting up has nothing to do with Holly.'

‘You know…' Eva says, fiddling with the stem of her glass. ‘I'm surprised she was okay with shagging someone who was supposed to be getting married in a few weeks. What sort of person does that? She looks quite sweet and innocent in her photos. Doesn't really have a wedding-wrecker vibe about her.'

I shake my head and stand to leave. ‘I can't be doing with this, Eva.'

‘Unless you didn't tell her.'

I take one step and freeze.

‘You didn't, did you? She doesn't know what a piece of work you are.'

I turn to face her. ‘What we talked about has nothing to do with you.'

‘Oh.' She leans forward so she's inches from my face, green eyes blazing. ‘I think my fiancée sleeping with someone else has everything to do with me.'

I let out a frustrated sigh, then sit back down and take a gulp of ale. ‘I struggled with how to tell you because I didn't want to hurt you. And by the time I felt I could tell you, I met Holly.'

‘So, go on, then. Where is she?'

‘She's still in Berlin. She's coming to London tomorrow.'

‘Aw.' She gives an exaggerated pout. ‘Isn't that sweet.'

I look out the window to the grey sky.

‘She must be having a lovely time on her travels from Australia.'

I whip to face her. ‘Stay out of Holly's socials, Eva, for fuck's sake.'

‘How could you possibly meet up with someone from Australia in Berlin by coincidence? How could that happen?'

‘It doesn't matter.'

‘It matters to me, and I want to know. You owe me that.'

I bristle but I feel like I do owe her an explanation, so I answer. ‘Fine. We met in Berlin when we were exchange students at university. We lost touch, and we ran into each other again.'

‘In Berlin? You just happened to both be there at the same time? Her from Australia and you from London?'

‘Yes.'

Her eyes flick to my upper arm and she jabs my tattoo hard. ‘That makes sense now.'

‘Ow,' I say, rubbing my arm. ‘I never lied about that. I told you it was about someone in my past.'

‘You didn't let on that you'd never stopped thinking about them!'

‘I'm sorry, Eva. I really am.'

She scoffs and necks the last mouthful of champagne, then plants her glass on the table with more force than necessary. ‘Your round.'

I stand. ‘No. We're done here.'

‘Oh, go on. I'm winding you up. Of course I haven't been in touch with your little Christmas carol. One more drink.'

I snatch up my wallet. ‘I'll get you one, then I'm leaving. What do you want?'

‘Another glass of Mo?t – the 2013 vintage, not the other one.'

‘Vintage Mo?t? It's about thirty quid a glass.'

‘And?'

‘And I'm not fucking paying thirty quid for something that will be gone in three mouthfuls.'

She gives a delicate little grunt. ‘I'm not a heathen; I sip champagne. It will take at least six.'

‘You're getting sparkling wine or standard wine. Take your pick, otherwise, I'm gone.'

She huffs. ‘Fine. I'll have a chardonnay, but make sure it's not Australian.'

I roll my eyes and head for the bar.