Page 34 of The Breakup Bookshop

It’s dark now and I’d completely forgotten about my phone. When I finally check it, I see it’s flooded with notifications. I scroll through the messages. The first is from Wren, an old colleague from Seed Creative.

Wren:Girrrl, you need to start a new page. Hotties in the Highlands. Are you kidding me? *books a flight immediately*

Typical Wren. She is a renowned party queen, never without a man on her arm. There is no way I am showing that message to Rory; his head won’t fit inside the bookshop door. But the likes and comments continue on my public feed.

booksamillion404: Next video request: painting a mural IN A KILT. That’ll be all, thank you xxuser486027x7: And suddenly the move from London to the middle of nowhere makes complete and utter sense!

edi4lyfe: Paint me like one of your Highland girls, Rory

The views and likes are through the roof. I’ve inadvertently turned my social page into a digital version of the Rory fan club. Brilliant. This is all I need. His anti-social media, anti-support group, anti-bookshop and, to be perfectly frank, anti-anything-I-have-to-say attitude is really grating on me.

Rory seems to have time for everyone in the whole village – everyone apart from me. I can’t help but take it personally. Eilidh, Donna, Pete, Margaret, Finlay all love him. What stings the most, which I will never admit, is that he seems to love them too. He is friendly with every single person I’ve seen him meet. I’ve tried to subtly move things on between us, on to more friendly terms, but he always snaps back with a snarky or negative comment that results in me liking him even less.

As I take a sip of tea, an all-too-familiar name pops up on my screen. I nearly spit out the tea. My heart thuds in my chest. I put my phone down immediately, tucking it underneath a cushion, as if that will make the whole thing go away. Macy. I do not want to hear from Macy. Why is she messaging me, after weeks of no contact?

Oh God, what ifsheis replying to my message from Seb? Telling me to back off from their new relationship?

I swallow the hard lump in my throat. I am not going to cry.

I should have blocked her. I’d considered it when I was packing up my old life and came across a photograph of the two of us together, beaming at the camera. But I’d thought there was no way she would contact me, not after what she’d done. I assumed she’d wait for me to reach out.

Macy hates being in the wrong. She gets defensive at the mere suggestion of it. She was once accused of stealing someone’s sandwich from the fridge at work and was affronted by the allegation. She talked about setting up a camera to catch the fridge thief. It turned out to be a coincidence, and someone happened to have a similar sandwich in the other fridge and had forgotten where they’d put it, but Macy still harped on about the accusation months later, like she would never trust her colleagues again.

This time, there is no denying she is in the wrong. No fridge camera, no mistaken identity. If I hadn’t seen them together with my own eyes, I’d never have believed it. The stinging reminder that she never even apologized is the most bitter pill to swallow.

But I’ve moved on. Or I’m trying to. Why is she messaging menow?

I read the first line while my finger hovers over the delete button:Hey, I know things are really weird between us—

I quickly delete the message without reading the rest. I can’t go there. Not now. There is nothing she can say that will change what she did or make it better.

My heart thuds. Weird between us. Things aren’t ‘weird’. It’s not like we’ve fallen out because she forgot to return a top she’d borrowed. She borrowed my boyfriend. There is no coming back from that.

I turn on a home renovation programme on the TV, determined to forget about her, but my mind keeps wandering to the message. Perhaps she’d said:Sorry, I know things are really weird between us, but I had to message after seeing that video. I’d really like to hook up with that hot guy. DM me! Lol. Or worse:Back off, bitch. Stop messaging Seb. He’s mine now!

Anyway, I’m doing fine now, much better. Everything is going well. The bookshop is almost ready to launch, I’m settling into Ullapool life, I’m not missing London at all. Even with the pressure of the business and its finances firmly on my shoulders, I feel freer than I have in a long, long time. The pressure to check and respond to emails immediately has gone. I’m no longer having to juggle clients and pretend I care for each of them like they’re my favourite child. I don’t have to review colleagues’ work; all I have to do is concentrate on my work. On myself.

I curl up on my hard sofa, placing the cushion which needs extra stuffing under my head, and sigh.

This is the reason we need the support group at the bookshop. Just when you think you are over the heartbreak and are moving on with your life, it all comes straight back to bite you on the arse.

*

Rory’s negativity around the breakup support group doesn’t put me off. I am ready to go full steam ahead with the idea, and Donna agrees wholeheartedly.

‘I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been doing someone’s highlights and they’ve been in tears by the end of the appointment. But then, boom, our time is over, I have other clients to see and I need to charge them for it,’ Donna says, with a firm nod. ‘So, I’ll be first in the queue for your support group, Ava, and I’ll be recommending it to all my customers.’

I approach Eilidh with a bit more caution. While she has been welcomed back with open arms into the village fold, she’s still only dipping her toe back into being part of the wider community again. I know that our book club, which we’ve hosted regularly since it was suggested, has been a big step for her, but that’s just been the three of us. The support group could be a step too far for her.

‘A support group?’ Eilidh repeats. She looks down at her lap, serious for a moment, before lifting her eyes to meet mine. ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea, Ava.’

‘Will you come?’

‘Of course I’ll come!’ she says. ‘I need to get back in the swing of things within the community, but I haven’t been sure how to go about it. This gives me the excuse. The support group is such a good idea.’

Itissuch a good idea. No matter what Rory thinks.

‘Oh, Ava, I’ve just had a thought,’ she continues. ‘Have you heard of Richard J. Walker?’