30. Holly, London

It's just past five forty, and the glass doors of the Soho Contemporary Gallery are locked. Casey said she'd probably work late today, and I wanted to get here early to surprise her, but a delayed flight and sorting out keys for the Airbnb means I'm an hour later than planned. Across the narrow street, there's a pub called The Regency and a bar on the corner. Did she say she goes to the pub across from the gallery after work, or the bar? I peer through the gallery doors. The lights are on, but how long before she comes out? I put in my AirPods. The surprise will have to be via FaceTime. After three rings, the call picks up and a woman with sleek dark hair and fine features appears on the screen.

‘Hello,' she says, with a tone that suggests she knows me.

‘Oh. Hi. I was after Casey, but I must have the wrong?—'

‘This is Casey's phone.'

A prickle of unease passes through me. ‘Is she … is she there?'

‘She's at the bar buying me a drink.' The woman narrows her heavily made-up eyes. ‘That background's familiar. Almost like you're in front of Casey's gallery.' Her eyes lift from the screen as she looks around.

I glance up and down the street and across at the pub, trying to identify her location. ‘Yes, I am. I came to meet Casey, but the gallery is closed. I thought she might be at the pub?'

‘I think I can see you,' the woman says.

I scan the bodies in the pub window, and a woman matching the one on the screen wiggles her fingers at me.

‘You must be Holly.'

My eyes flick between my screen and the pub window. ‘I am.'

‘Well, Casey's just at the bar. Why don't you come over? I'm Eva, by the way.'

My shoulders drop and the murkiness in my belly disappears. ‘Okay.' I step off the footpath and cross the road. ‘Are you a friend?'

She glances over her shoulder, then back to the screen. ‘You could say that.'

I spot Casey returning to the table with a glass of wine. My heart leaps and I start towards the door.

‘I'm her fiancée,' Eva says.

I freeze. My hand drops to my side, but the call is still connected and coming through my headphones. ‘Sorry?' I say, staring at her through the glass.

‘Her fee-ance-ay.' She pronounces each syllable clearly and slowly. ‘You speak English in Australia, don't you?'

The narrow street closes in on me as my disbelieving gaze shifts to Casey. Her eyes are wide, and she shakes her head at me before she rips the phone from Eva's hands, and I hear, ‘Fuck you, Eva.'

My fingers tremble as I end the call, shove the headphones back in their case and race off, alternating between a jog and a fast walk.

‘Holly, wait!' A hand grips my shoulder. ‘Please.'

I spin and wipe my face. ‘Your fiancée?'

Casey's face crumples. ‘I'm sorry.'

I clutch my hand to my chest as though I'm trying to stop my heart from falling out. ‘Your fiancée.' It's not a question now; it's a bitter accusation.

She shakes her head. ‘She's not.'

‘No?'

‘No.' She places her palm against her forehead and screws her eyes shut. ‘Not anymore.'

‘When did she stop being your fiancée? Like, months ago?' I wait, willing her to say yes.

She looks down at the footpath and shakes her head.

I swallow. ‘Weeks ago?'

She meets my gaze and shakes her head again.

I close my eyes not wanting to look at her because in my heart, I know the answer to my next question. ‘Was she still your fiancée on the weekend?' Reluctantly, I open my eyes.

She bites her bottom lip and nods.

‘Fuck, Casey.'

‘I wanted to tell you.'

‘Then why didn't you?'

‘Because, well, she wasn't in my head. Like, I mean, it was over for me and I was about to tell her, and I met you and things happened so fast and it was so brilliant, and I didn't want to hurt you, and I…'

‘What?'

She clasps her hands behind her head, a pained expression on her face. She's only in a T-shirt, and her arms are covered in goosebumps from the cool air. Despite my hurt and anger, I'm desperate to pull her close and keep her warm. But I restrain myself because I've been here before with Lily. I won't fall for it again.

‘How could it be over if she was still your fiancée? And she clearly doesn't think it's over.'

‘It is over. Now.' Casey shakes her head. ‘No. Then. It was over then. I was going to tell her on the Friday night. I was going back to my room straight after work to tell her, but instead I found you. We got on so well and you kissed me?—'

‘I kissed you? That's your reason for not telling me?'

People navigate around us, throwing curious looks. Casey steps closer and lowers her voice. ‘No. All I meant was, when you kissed me, I didn't want to stop.'

‘I asked you that first morning when we were out for breakfast. I told you about Tom and asked if there was anyone recent. You said no.'

Casey hangs her head.

‘You could've told me then. That would've been the perfect time to tell me. Yes, I would've been upset, but I would've let you explain.'

‘I wanted to. The words were right there, but you looked so … so broken, and I couldn't do it. It's over with Eva; I promise you. I told her as soon as I got back on Wednesday, and I was going to tell you the truth this weekend. You were supposed to be here tomorrow, and I was going to tell you everything.'

My eyes fill again. ‘I trusted you, Casey. I thought last week was something special.'

She grabs my hand. ‘It was. I fucked up not telling you straight away, but the more time I spent with you, the harder it became.'

‘Have you been sleeping with Eva since you got back? Did you hop off the phone to me and into bed with her?'

‘What? No!' She looks genuinely outraged. ‘From the airport, I went straight to her flat, we broke up and I moved to Jaz's place. I also told her about you at the same time.'

‘How am I supposed to believe that when you lied to me for almost a week? And I assume, lied to her.'

She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

‘Did you sleep with her the same week you slept with me? Before you went to Berlin?'

Her brows pull together and she stays silent.

A rush of nausea hits me, and I turn away with a disgusted grunt.

‘The weekend before I went to Berlin…' she says. ‘I didn't know then that?—'

‘So you went from having sex with your fiancée one weekend, not knowing you wanted to end it, to having sex with me the following weekend knowing it was over with her?'

Her brows furrow deeper. ‘Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that.'

I start to walk away, but she grabs my arm.

‘I did have doubts about Eva then. I have for months. But I was trying to make it work.' She releases me and takes a deep breath. ‘Okay, this is what happened. We were together the Saturday before I went to Berlin. I was having serious doubts. We went to her parents' in the afternoon and I was struggling, so I left and went to my own parents' and stayed the night. It was over for me then and I did not sleep with her again. I tried talking to her about the wedding, but she broke down and I couldn't handle it, so I went to Berlin the following day instead. But I swear to you I didn't have sex with her again.'

I want to believe her, but my head is swimming with memories of finding out about Lily's affair, and my heart cracks from the familiar hurt and rejection, except this time, the crack feels so much deeper.

Casey continues. ‘It wasn't until I got to Berlin and had some time alone that I knew I couldn't go on like that. But work was so busy, and if I told her then I would've been up all night dealing with it. So I planned to tell her on the Friday night instead, when I didn't have work the next day and could spend the time to talk to her properly, but then I found you. Please, Holly, you have to believe me. I can't lose you a second time.'

I frown. ‘I'll never be able to trust you.'

She takes my hand. ‘Of course you can.'

‘We were so intimate, so close. How could you be like that with me, yet be in a relationship with someone else?'

‘Because I don't love her and I knew we were done.'

‘Except you forgot to tell her.' I pull my hand free and start walking.

She keeps pace beside me. ‘Let's go somewhere. We can talk.'

‘Leave me alone.'

She grabs my arm and I yank it free. ‘I said, leave. Me. Alone. This can't work. I was stupid to think last week meant anything to you.'

‘It meant everything to me.'

I stride away, then stop and turn. ‘Don't follow me. You can watch me walk away like I watched you walk away, and you can fucking hurt like I hurt then and like I hurt now.' My tears spill again. ‘Fuck you for doing this to me.'

‘Holly!' she calls, but her voice dissolves into the sounds of London, and the ache in my heart is even deeper and more painful than the first time she let me down.

I reach Oxford Circus tube station, fly down the escalator and disappear underground.

Back at the Airbnb, I screw the top off a wine bottle and hunt for a glass. It doesn't take long – the kitchen is tiny, and I only have a choice of four cupboard doors. I take a large swig, then splash more in my glass and slump against the bench, fresh tears spilling. The flat suddenly feels too small and I can't breathe. Desperate for fresh air, I drag a dining chair over to the window and hoist it up, gulping in the cool evening breeze.

My phone rings. I don't bother checking it. Casey has been calling since I left her standing on Regent Street. I was tempted to switch it off, but I want her to know how it feels to have your calls ignored. Eva enters my head, perched on the bar stool, perfect and poised, cool and calm, ready to protect her prized possession. Even through the thick glass, the fiery determination in her eyes was clear. Then my brain conjures up an image of Casey and Eva in bed, and a bitter jealousy rips through me.

I reach for more wine, desperate to wash away the vision, but instead it's replaced with a reel of Casey and me the past week. Five nights together, skin on skin, lips on lips, hands and mouths trailing over each other's bodies. To me, it was more than physical; our souls were connected. I thought she felt that too. What did she say that afternoon we were in her gallery? I stare at the darkening street and search my mind … The same, I feel the same, because you ruined me for everyone else too. I scoff. God, I'm an idiot. Stupid for letting myself get caught up in something so unrealistic, for spending my entire twenties thinking about her, for putting her in this idealistic bubble of perfection, for comparing all my relationships to this person I'd made her out to be.

‘So. Fucking. Stupid!' My words disappear into the night sky, just like the relationship I thought I was about to embark on. The silence in the flat is too loud. I slam the window shut, turn on the TV and collapse on the couch. My phone rings again. Casey's image flashes up at me. I turn up the volume on the TV and drown her out.