Back The Break Up Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. The Break Up
  4. Dedication
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. Dear Reader …
  51. Keep Reading …
  52. About the Publisher

‘Christ.’ I rubbed at my forehead. ‘Why did you even book it?’ Before he tried to explain, I started again, ‘Whatever, it’s part-refundable, so it’ll all work out. I’d say we need some ground rules, though, before we start.’ I pulled a notepad out of the junk drawer in the kitchen and then searched through my handbag to find a pen. ‘Right.’ I sat down at the table and clicked the biro to life. ‘First of all, are we having sex or are things limited to sexual contact …’

*

Rowan tried to act normal in the days after, but it was hard. I couldn’t stop thinking I’d made a massive mistake. ‘He’s the one who’s made the fucking mistake, Edi,’ Betty snapped, when I shared the worry with her – but I was dangerously close to telling Rowan that I took back any permissions I’d given him during our talk. Still, it felt like going back on a spit-shake after the deal was in motion, and I remembered enough of the playground politics to know that was bad form. So, I kept a healthy distance from him – which was a strange thing to do while I was still wearing the engagement ring, which had somehow lost its shine already.

On the Saturday of our first weekend together but not, Rowan asked whether I wanted to have dinner. He called, rather than texting, which made me think he must be nervous of asking. He’d always hated waiting for a response to things he was nervous about; phone calls were much more immediate. Still, I’d lied and told him I had plans with the girls for the afternoon and it would probably spill into the evening.

‘Are you going out?’ he asked, and I couldn’t decide whether he had a right to know. Despite having drawn up a sexually explicit guidebook, the simple feelings of the matter were turning out to be more complicated.

‘No, we’re having a night in. I think I mentioned it a couple of weeks ago?’ I lied, knowing he wouldn’t remember either way, so he’d likely just agree. I hurried him off the call after that, knocked my phone into airplane mode and headed for the door. I wasn’t seeing the girls; I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I had designs on keeping it that way.