Page 98 of Book People

‘Um,’ I say, intelligently.

‘Do you really think so, Kate?’ Mrs Abbot frowns ferociously at me.

But my attention is diverted. I’m staring out the window at the preparations going on across the road for Lisa’s second signing session in Blackwood Books. At the queue extending out of the bookshop and down the road.

At Sebastian standing in his front window, looking out at Portable Magic. Looking out at me.

We haven’t spoken since last night and he hasn’t sent a text. Neither have I. But I feel all of it again in my chest, a heavy, solid ache. Not that the pain ever went: it’s been there since he walked away from me and I think it’ll probably never leave.

He looks at me a second longer and then turns away.

Everyone in this stupid panel about stupid romance is still looking at me, expecting me to talk intelligently about happiness and happy endings when inside my heart is breaking. And no number of good thoughts is going to help, I know that now.

I stand jerkily. ‘Mrs Abbot,’ I say, my voice sounding strangled. ‘Would you take over for me? I’m not feeling the best.’

Before anyone can say a word, I shove my chair to the side and I flee for the door to my flat and stumble up the stairs. And when I get to the top, I allow myself a couple of little sobs. Then I scrub fiercely at my face.

I don’t care, I chant inside my head. I don’t care about him.

‘Kate?’ Aisling’s voice floats up from the bottom of the stairs.

Really, I’m pleased and thankful for all the friends I’ve made since coming here, but right now, I’m wishing they’d all bugger off.

‘I’m fine,’ I say, hoping I’m convincing enough. ‘Just a little headache.’

I move away from the stairs, go into my kitchen, and stand at the sink with a glass. Turn on the tap and fill it.

‘I don’t think you’re fine,’ Aisling says, appearing in the doorway, evidently having followed me up the stairs.

So . . . not convincing, then. Great.

‘It’s just a headache, Ash,’ I say determinedly, because if I say it enough times, then maybe it’ll be true.

‘Really? It must be more than that for you to leave one of your favourite events.’

She is, alas, not wrong.

I take a bracing gulp of the water I didn’t even want to start with, then try yet another meaningless smile. ‘Sebastian and I are over,’ I say lightly, even though saying the words out loud makes me want to cry. ‘I told him I loved him and he told me he can’t do casual. So, there you have it.’

Aisling frowns. ‘Wait, what? You told him you loved him? Since when did you love him?’

‘Since he first kissed me, probably,’ I admit. ‘And please don’t give me any pity or say “I told you so”. I couldn’t help it and it’sobviously a disaster, and, really, the best thing is just to forget it ever happened.’

Aisling folds her arms and gives me a stern look. ‘I would never say I told you so and you know that. Same with pity. And love, well . . . You can’t choose it. Sometimes it just happens, and at the worst possible moment with the worst possible person.’

I swallow and put down my glass. ‘I would never have chosen him. I would have chosen . . . well . . . anyone else.’

‘You told him, though.’

‘A stupid thing to do.’

Aisling shakes her head. ‘Uh, no. A brave thing to do. If he can’t handle that, then he’s not worth it.’

My throat has a lump in it the size of Scotland and nothing I do will make it go away. ‘Tell my stupid heart that,’ I say.

Aisling lets out a breath and, before I can stop her, she comes around the counter and gives me a giant hug. I resist a moment, then I relax and let her hug me, the warmth of feminine support and comfort strengthening me.

‘My ex arrived last night,’ I say, the words spilling out. ‘He saw the festival advertising and decided to make the trip up to see me. He told me he loved me and that he wants me back.’

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