Page 80 of The Breakup Bookshop

He moves slowly towards me, creeping along the edge of the till. I fold my arms more tightly across my chest. If he thinks I am this easily manipulated, he has another thing coming. He hovers his hand above my knee, en route to touching me, but I bat it away.

‘Hands to yourself,’ I warn him, narrowing my eyes.

‘I really miss you, Ava,’ he says. ‘I watched your TV interview over and over like some sad sack. I can’t believe what you’ve accomplished here. I’m so proud of you.’

‘I don’t need you to be proud of me, Seb. No, you don’t get to be proud of me. There are lots of things I’ve needed from you in the past, but I stopped needing anything when you slept with Macy behind my back.’

‘Look, Ava, we can go over this and over that, but I have driven for hours to get here. Can’t we get some sleep and talk about it in the morning?’

‘And where exactly do you plan to sleep?’

His sheepish expression tells me all I need to know about his plans. He has to be joking. He cannot seriously expect that I will allow him to stay with me? After everything he’s done?

‘Look, I’ve taken some time off work so we can talk things through,’ he says. ‘David encouraged me to come and win you back because I’ve been off my game for months without you. That tells you everything you need to know.’

David, his boss, is a workaholic and expects everyone to follow suit. We used to laugh about that, but Seb lost that privilege. Doesn’t he get that? Plus, I don’t care if he’s been ‘off his game’. Maybe being a manipulative cheat keeps Seb up at night, but that’s not my problem.

‘How much time have you taken off?’

He puffs out his chest like a proud peacock. ‘Three days.’

I roll my eyes. Three days. That’s all he’d decided it would take to lure me back to London. Three bloody days.

‘I don’t think you’re fully grasping the issue at hand here, Seb. Even if I was ready to overlook the fact that you slept with my best friend, which I’m absolutely not, I am set up here now. My business is here. Ilivehere.’

‘Ah, come on, Ava,’ he says, glancing around.

‘What does that mean?’

‘You put your money where your mouth is with your social media strategy and you’re smashing it. You’ve proved your point, but you don’t need to stick around here any more. Come back to London with me. You’ll walk into one of the big agencies and start earning real money again. Don’t tell me that selling second-hand books is profitable. You must be earning a quarter of your previous income, if that. Am I right?’

I’m not about to open up about my current financial status to Seb. No chance. I’m only getting angrier the longer I talk to him. Who the hell does he think he is, coming here to tell me to pack it in and admit defeat? He has no idea what I’ve achieved here.

Rain starts to batter against the bookshop window as the wind picks up pace. A strong gust makes the door rattle in its hinges. Seb throws a disparaging look in my direction.

‘Is it always like this? I left twenty-five degrees for this.’

‘No, it’s not always like this. It’s been beautiful for the whole summer up until you arrived. Surprise, surprise.’

‘Your flat,’ he says. ‘Let me see it.’

It’s not even a question. I used to love Seb’s assertiveness. He has balls. He hadn’t just climbed the career ladder, he’d skipped a few rungs along the way, negotiating his salary upwards with every move. He’d encouraged me to do the same; in fact – and I blush at the memory – he’d guided me through it. He took charge of every situation, from sending back a dish in a restaurant that wasn’t cooked the way he liked it to surprising me with an upgrade during a weekend hotel break. He’d coached me in time management, reviewing my schedule so I could ‘work smarter, not harder’, even though I ended up working all hours under the sun anyway.

Aside from the whole cheating-on-me-with-my-best-friend thing, he had been there with me every step of the way.

I walk towards the staircase. ‘It’s not been renovated yet, so lower your expectations.’

He quickly follows behind me. ‘I can help you with it. The flat renovation.’

A laugh escapes my mouth as I climb the stairs. ‘Seb, your toolbox has never been opened. I’m pretty sure it’s still sitting in the bag with the receipt from three years ago. And remember that time your fingernail got into a fight with a hammer and lost?’

He laughs too. ‘Of course, Nurse Ava was there in a jiffy, with her reassuring words of comfort: “You’d better not get any blood on the white walls.”’

‘Shame. We could have used some blood splatter as a distraction from the fifty shades of grey in your flat. Anyway, here it is.’ I sweep my hand around the small space. ‘Home sweet home.’

He looks around, taking it all in with a shake of his head as though he can’t quite believe it. He moves forward, peering around the door into the bathroom, staring at the green tiles. ‘My eyes. My eyes!’

‘Yes, I know, they’ll be the first to go. You need to have an open mind here. Think about the potential.’