Page 58 of The Breakup Bookshop

He lets out an indignant laugh. ‘You and I both know that Donna doesn’t have a shy bone in her body.’

‘She seemed shy around you at the launch night.’

‘Mibbes aye, mibbes no. Anyway, I’m off. See you later, Ava.’

He offers up a weak wave as he leaves the shop.

I feel for Finlay, I really do. He’s clearly still into Donna, but I have a horrible feeling he may be right about Donna’s feelings for him. She talked about Lewis and all her problems with him at the breakup bookshop but said nothing about poor Finlay.

After closing the shop, I wander out to the courtyard at the back of the shops to perch on my usual spot, on top of the bin. As I angle my face to catch some late-evening sunshine, my phone starts to vibrate with messages. Over and over, people ask to join the support group due to take place the following evening.

A woman originally from the Highlands who moved to London asks to dial in if I can facilitate it for her. She saw the news piece online and hearing the Scottish accents made her homesick.

A woman in her early thirties from the neighbouring village of Rhue, who is trying to give up alcohol, messaged to ask to attend after realizing she only had ‘party friends’ and no one wants to hang out with her sober. She hopes to come along to the support group to strike up new friendships.

A man in his early twenties from Lochinver asks to join. He’s recently lost his job and doesn’t want to bring his friends down by talking about it all the time. His girlfriend also recently dumped him and, while he understood the decision, he’s struggling to move on.

My heart hurts.

A series of other messages from people who ask if they can come along fill my inbox. I know they all have their own stories to share, heartache to heal or just want to soak up some company. How can I say no to that?

‘Exhausted from being a media sensation?’

My heart gives a little quiver as I hear Rory’s voice. The woman from London is right. Thereissomething about the Scottish accent, in all its gruff glory, that makes you feel a little flutter.

‘I don’t know. Are you?’

‘I don’t mean to boast, but requests have been flooding in since my television appearance. I’ve even been asked to nip to Margaret’s on my way home to fix a carpet that she’s worried about tripping over.’

‘Living the dream.’

‘You?’

‘I may have bitten off more than I can chew,’ I admit. ‘The Next Chapter has grown arms and legs – I’ve got too many people and not enough space. Plus, I need to start making money or Eilidh is going to break up withme.’

‘I would offer you The Toolbox, but I’m not sure people who are weeping about their breakups should have access to drills?’

‘We’re supporting one another, we’re not unhinged.’

‘If you say so,’ he says. ‘We could set up a rage room in the courtyard where you can all come out and smash things with hammers.’

I jump off the bin. ‘The courtyard!’

‘I was joking, Ava,’ he says. ‘Although, I suppose it could be a good idea…’

‘No, I mean, I could use both spaces. I could divide the group in two: one lot inside, where people can talk in a group setting, and one lot outside, in the courtyard, where they can mingle and chat. Then we swap over. What do you think?’

‘You could,’ he agrees, observing the area. ‘The courtyard needs a bit of a clear-up, so we’d need to start with that. We could store the bins in my shop for the evening to give a bit more space.’

We. The two-letter word makes me want to throw myself at Rory MacGregor.

‘You’re going to help me?’ I ask, quietly. ‘Don’t you have somewhere better to be tonight?’

‘I was going to go to my own support group, but I can skip it to help.’

‘The pub?’

He nods.