Chapter 28
The smell of bacon and eggs wafts seductively through the air as I wake up with a dry mouth and a sinking realization.
Seb is here, in my kitchen, making me poached eggs just the way he knows I like them. I have to put a stop to all this. I can’t have him parading around, pushing my panic buttons, making me doubt my life choices. I am perfectly capable of doing that all on my own.
The wedding is over after what felt like the longest day and night in history. I check my phone, but there’s nothing from Rory.
‘Breakfast’s ready!’
I groan, slide out of bed and walk into the kitchen.
Seb stands there, dressed in his boxer shorts and the white shirt he’d worn the night before, nudging the bacon around the pan before switching off the gas.
He’d set up the folding table, placing a small flower in the tiny vase that had been empty since I arrived.
‘Voilà, m’lady,’ he says, dishing it up as I take a seat. ‘Breakfast is served. God, it’s tight in here, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not any smaller than your flat in London.’
‘Our flat,’ he says.
I groan.
‘So, guess what? Red Letter has an opening for a social media strategist,’ he says with a smile. ‘And they want you.’
I stop and put my fork down, my mouth hanging open. Damn Seb. He’s always known how to push all the right buttons.
‘What do you mean they want me? How do they know about me?’
‘I sent them your CV,’ he says. ‘I had it saved on my computer. They think I’m a recruitment agent working on your behalf and replied to my email this morning.
The salary is insane, Ava, much better than what you were on at the last agency.
You have an interview this afternoon for the senior strategist job. ’
I take a sip of water, trying to steady my nerves.
I’ve always wanted to work for Red Letter.
I applied for a junior role there when I first started out but didn’t even get an interview.
Then, when I had some more experience under my belt, I sent my CV in for consideration if anything came up but didn’t hear a thing.
They are renowned in the industry for excellent pay and benefits, but, more importantly, they have the best clients on their books, including some high-profile authors and literary festivals.
Here I am, trying to get my own bookshop off the ground, praying for the funding application to be approved so I might just be able to pay my mortgage, when I have the chance to walk into a senior role running the social media for the people and organizations I admire most.
Trust Seb. He never forgets, like a bloody elephant.
I swallow.
‘Well, that’s an annoyingly tempting offer,’ I say.
‘You’re welcome. I could get you an extra few grand on your salary too.
They’ve seen what you’ve done for the bookshop here.
I sent them a link to your news interview.
This is what I mean, Ava, you can capitalize on your success.
You made a splash here, which is great when it’s all new and shiny, but that’s not sustainable.
I know you won’t be making anywhere near the salary that’s on the table at Red Letter. ’
‘What’s the salary?’ I whisper.
He tells me the figure and I have to fight to stop my eyes from widening.
It’s an enormous sum. I think about my poor bank balance and the work still to be done in this flat.
The seemingly endless supply of bills and envelopes with overdue stamps Pete pretends not to notice as he hands them over with a sympathetic smile.
‘I’ll do the interview. But I’m not promising anything, Seb.’
‘You can move back into our flat,’ Seb says, as he reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
His touch feels cold, strange, like a wet fish.
‘I’m ready to give this a proper go this time, Ava.
No bullshit. It’s you I want; I know that now.
We could settle down properly. The ring, the wedding, the honeymoon, whatever you want.
We’ll take it all at your pace. You’re in charge. ’
It is everything I’d wanted, laid out on a plate in front of me, with perfectly poached eggs on the side. Not a proposal, as such, but a proposal of a proposal.
And things with Rory have taken a turn. I like him, I really like him, but I can’t let him off scot-free.
Pardon the pun. Seb’s not the only one who’s lied to me, after all.
And there’s the gorgeous Elle. What did Rory say when the former love of his life asked to try and give things another go?
Finlay said Rory was always pining after some girl he couldn’t have.
Now, he could have her. Maybe I’ve never stood a chance with him.
‘I’ll do the interview and think about it.’
Seb grins. ‘You won’t regret it.’
*
Seb takes charge of the bookshop, urging me to take some time out to prepare for my interview.
As I look through my CV and write responses to standard interview questions, I sit in the corner of the bookshop and listen to him chatting with the bookshop customers.
Seb isn’t much of a reader, but he is making an effort.
I still haven’t heard a peep from Rory. No messages, no phone calls, this whole time. I’ve been checking by the bins periodically for updates, but there’s nothing.
‘Hi, is Ava here?’ I hear Fiona’s voice ask from the front door.
‘I’m here, Fiona!’ I call from the couch in the corner. ‘Come over!’
‘I thought you might be lying in a pile in the middle of the floor begging for a caffeine hit. You’ve not been in this morning. And who’s that behind the counter?’ She hands me my usual coffee order. God, I love Fiona.
I’m not ready to out Seb to everyone just yet, but I don’t have much choice. All six foot of him is standing behind the till and it’s not like I can hide him away.
‘That’s my ex-boyfriend, Seb,’ I whisper.
Fiona’s hands fly to her mouth, and she looks at him with disgust. Seb, completely oblivious, is busy talking to a customer. ‘He’s got a cheek. Why is he serving in your bookshop? Tell him to sling his hook.’
‘It’s a long story. I will tell you about it, but not just now. I’ve got to get my own head around things first, okay?’
Fiona shakes her head firmly. ‘Don’t go back to him, Ava.’
I swallow the emotions that threaten to rear their ugly head. Hurt. Anger. Embarrassment. But I have to prepare for the interview and weigh everything up. Make an informed choice.
‘Anyway, listen, I don’t just come bearing coffee. I have some news,’ Fiona says, her face lighting up as she speaks. ‘It’s Lillian. I’m in touch with her again.’
‘What?’ I squeal. ‘Oh, Fiona! That’s amazing news! How? Tell me everything!’
Fiona’s face flushes as her grin widens.
‘It’s all down to you, you know. I buried all those feelings in the past, but your breakup bookshop, listening to everyone’s stories and talking about living life with no regrets, led me to seek her out.
I found her on Facebook after a bit of digging. I pinged her a private message.’
‘Oh my God, Fiona!’ I squeal. ‘And what did she say?’
‘We chatted back and forth for ages. She’s working as a high school English teacher in Perthshire.’
‘I can’t believe it – this is amazing news. Is she single? Are you going to meet up?’
‘Oh, we’ve not got that far yet. I’m just enjoying being in touch with her again. I’m like a giddy schoolgirl, checking my phone every five minutes to see if she’s messaged.’
‘This is so exciting! What have you been talking about?’
‘Life. What’s happened since she left Ullapool. And we’ve been reminiscing about old times.’
I squeeze her hand. ‘Oh, Fiona, I’m so happy for you. That’s great news.’
‘All thanks to you. Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve left Jen in charge of the cafe. I just had to come and tell you about it. Remember what I said about Seb, Ava. Don’t go back the way.’
With that, she stands up, her face still beaming, and practically bounces out of the shop. She doesn’t acknowledge Seb as she saunters past him.
‘Was it something I said?’ he calls.
‘You’ve been mentioned on more than a few occasions,’ I say. ‘People don’t just forget things.’
He leans forward on the work surface and lowers his voice conspiratorially.
‘They have a real village small-mind mentality here, don’t they?
This would be forgotten in five minutes in London, where we actually have lives of our own.
Here they’re practically digging out their pitchforks for a witch hunt, right? ’
‘We care for one another here. Fiona’s my friend. She’s looking out for me.’
He shrugs it off. ‘Friends let you make your own choices and decisions. Anyway, I’ve got a Teams call in five. Can I borrow the sofa? I feel like it’s practically mine now, given how intimate we got last night.’
Seb’s still astounded that I didn’t just let him hop into bed beside me. As if that would ever happen.
I nod, stepping behind the counter with my laptop as Margaret walks into the bookshop.
‘Ava, dear, I just wanted to say thank you for that book you recommended to me. I thoroughly enjoyed it from start to finish.’
‘Which one was that, Margaret?’
‘The Hating Game. I just devoured it, could not put it down. I sat up until all hours last night to finish it. They can’t stand each other – Lucy and Joshua – and they’re battling it out for promotion. Have you read it?’
I nod, smiling at Margaret. ‘Yes! I loved their banter. It’s a great enemies-to-lovers book.’
‘Oh, it really did brighten up my day. I used to love curling up with a good romance but found it difficult when Bill passed. Now, I feel like I’m ready again.’
I should have known fiery Margaret would be up for a good enemies-to-lovers story. She isn’t one to shy away from a bit of confrontation, but I’m slowly but surely getting her on side, book by book.
‘Good for you, Margaret. I have another book in stock by the same author, let me find it for you. I think you’ll enjoy it.’
Seb’s call is starting as I pass him, scanning books on the shelves. He grins manically while greeting his colleagues.
So much for taking three days off work.