Chapter Three
Poppy
M y phone buzzes.
Then again.
And again.
I groan and roll over in bed, blinking at the screen through narrowed eyes.
The group chat is lighting up like a bonfire, my three best friends waiting impatiently for the post-breakup debrief.
Leah: SO???
How’d it go??? Did you do it??
Are we finally free from Noah’s Shakespearean love sonnets? ?
Em: Don’t leave us in suspense, woman!!
Jas: If she’s not replying, I fear the worst.
Maybe she’s still being serenaded and can’t physically escape.
A short, sharp laugh escapes me. I wouldn’t put it past Noah to turn up outside my apartment with a speaker held above his head, blasting one of the songs from the playlist.
I put the girls out of their misery .
Me: It’s done. It’s over.
I hesitate for a second before typing out two more words.
Me: I’m free.
I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen as I let it sink in.
Free.
The word lingers in my mind, feeling both weightless and strange.
Like a gust of fresh air I hadn’t realised I needed.
Yet even as the tension eases from my shoulders, even as the weight lifts from my chest, the guilt is already creeping in, gnawing at me like a hungry raccoon.
Noah was - is - a good guy. Kind, thoughtful, affectionate. The type of boyfriend who remembers your coffee order, tells you you’re beautiful every day, and more than anything else, genuinely cares .
So why did everything he said and did make me cringe to high heaven?
And why the hell couldn’t I just like him back?
I didn’t want to hurt him. The memory of his reaction last night - of the clear confusion, of his wounded expression - twists my stomach into knots. I hate thinking about him being upset because of me.
But at the same time… I felt better the second the words left my mouth.
Like I could breathe again.
And if breaking up with someone who adored me makes me feel this much relief, then surely - surely - I made the right decision .
Even if it hurt him.
Even if I still feel like I kicked an earnest golden retriever straight in the heart.
The screen lights up again.
Em: Omg THANK GOD.
I’m sorry, but if I had to listen to him call you his little petal one more time, I was going to personally intervene.
Jas: Same. But like. Are you okay??
Ah. Now this is why Jas is my favourite.
(Not that I’d ever admit that out loud.)
Me: I mean… I feel a bit like I kicked a puppy.
A very earnest puppy that just wanted to love me and read me handwritten poetry.
The replies are immediate.
Em: Yeah, but that puppy was also slightly suffocating you.
And policing your meal choices .
You did the right thing.
I frown.
Me: Policing my meal choices?
Leah: Pops. The milkshake thing. The pasta thing.
The fact that he made a face every time you had a second coffee.
Em: Or the time he actually said "are you sure you need desert?"
and we all nearly murdered him in broad daylight.
My mouth parts slightly .
Shit.
They’re right .
I was so busy convincing myself that Noah was perfect - so busy trying to figure out what was wrong with me for not falling for him - that I didn’t fully realise just how insufferable some of those things were.
He was lovely, sure; but he also had a habit of subtly undermining me.
Like the way he used to talk about my degree. How he’d call my sketches cute and talk about fashion like it was a sweet, silly hobby rather than something I was actually serious about. The way he never really listened when I got excited about trends, or the way his eyes used to glaze over whenever I brought up plans for my own brand.
And just like that, the guilt in my stomach lessens.
Not completely - but enough.
Before I can dwell on it too much, another message pops up.
Leah: So, to celebrate… GET YOUR ASS TO MONACO.
I blink.
Me: What??
The responses come thick and fast.
Jas: You heard her. Pack a bag. Come join us.
Em: We booked this trip ages ago and YOU were the one who
said, and I quote, “I can’t, I’ll be with Noah, and he’s not
really into that kind of thing.”
Leah: Which, by the way, should have been your first red flag.
I roll my eyes .
Me: Okay, but that was BEFORE I knew he’d be publicly
serenading me at restaurants.
Em: Exactly.
So. Get. Your. Ass. To. Monaco.
I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.
The rational part of me - the part that likes to be practical and responsible - knows that booking a last-minute flight and running off to Monaco is probably not my best idea.
But then again… what’s keeping me in London?
The semester is over. My parents are staying at their holiday home in Florida for the summer. If I stay here, I’ll probably run into Noah at some point -
And heaven knows that I am not emotionally prepared for round two of him serenading me in the Tesco meal-deal aisle.
So really, this is an act of self-preservation.
Me: Fuck it.
The chat explodes .
Leah: YESSSSSSSSSS
Em: OMG FINALLY
Jas: Thank God for that!
I grin at my screen, warmth filling my chest.
One thing’s for sure - I can always count on my girls to pick me up and make me laugh.
Me: I need to figure out flights.
What’s the plan? Where are you guys staying?
Leah: You can stay in our suite!
We have two queen beds - there’s more than enough room.
My smile grows impossibly wider.
Me: Love that.
Also, it’s France, capital of fashion, right?
So it’s basically a business trip.
Jas: Actually, Pops, Monaco isn’t French.
I frown.
A quick Google search later confirms it. Huh .
Me: Yeah, I’ve decided I’m going to pretend it is.
Leah: That’s the spirit.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with an incoming video call.
Leah, Em, and Jas appear on my screen, lounging in what looks like a ridiculously fancy hotel room.
"You girls are living in style ," I say, squinting at the screen.
"Obviously," Leah replies. "Monaco isn’t just a place, Pops. It’s a lifestyle ."
I laugh as I search for flights.
Jas snorts. "We spent yesterday sunbathing at a beach club, and she literally had a fifty euro smoothie delivered to her lounger. Fifty. Euros ."
"Excuse me for embracing the true spirit of this magnificent country," Leah says as she makes a performance out of sipping from her tall glass. "Anyway, more importantly - when are you getting here?"
"I'm looking up flights right now," I say as I reach for my laptop .
"Direct to Nice is probably your best bet," Em suggests. "Then just get a car or a helicopter -"
"A what ?"
"A helicopter," she repeats, like it’s a totally normal method of transport. "It’s only like, fifteen minutes. Sometimes even less, I think. And it’s very on brand for Monaco."
"Yeah, okay, let me just dig through my helicopter budget real quick," I say dryly, clicking through airline websites.
I can’t imagine my father would be at all pleased to see me whacking that bill on his credit card.
Leah gasps dramatically, pulling me from my wandering thoughts.
"Wait. Are we about to witness Poppy’s first ever impulse flight booking?” she asks, her head turning in both directions to face the other’s before she looks straight at the phone again, locking eyes with me through the screen. “Pops, is this… growth ?!"
"Maybe," I chew my lip, suppressing a laugh at her ridiculousness. "It’s just... Running off to Monaco after a breakup feels a bit. I don’t know. Messy ."
Em leans in close to the camera.
"Messy?” she repeats. “Babe, you know as well as I do that we thrive on messy. Monaco is made for messy. Believe me; half of the women here are either recovering from divorces or actively searching for their next ex-husband."
"Em, you’re totally missing the point here,” Jas pipes up. “Poppy, you’re not even messy. You’re just… exploring new opportunities."
I sigh as I scroll through flights to Nice .
The prices aren’t too outrageous, and if the girls say that there’s room in the suite…
"So you’re saying I should do it?" I ask, my voice hesitant.
All three of them practically scream ‘yes !’ at the same time, and I wince as the loud sound of their voices fills my ears.
"Fucking hell," I mutter.
"Book it," Em orders. "You and your mind are literally the only things holding you back here."
I think on it for another moment longer, my eyes dancing over the flight options as I exhale sharply.
You know what?
Screw it.
I click.
The second I do, the video call erupts into absolute chaos.
"Yesssss!" Leah cheers.
"This is going to be iconic ," Em beams.
Jas raises her glass. "To new beginnings," she toasts.
And as I grin at my screen, excitement finally flooding my veins, I feel it.
Not guilt. Not second-guessing. Just pure, reckless excitement .
Monaco, here I come.