Page 107 of Little Miss Fortune

But he doesn’t. He searches for something that would be irrefutable. And the bastard finds it. ‘I have been selfish... getting involved with you.’

That absolutely meaningless sentence navigates all the roads that this relationship could have taken to failure. It doesn’t matter what I do, or what I have done, every single consideration, in all the probable outcomes, leads to the destination that Toby has declared our final stop—this cafe on his birthday.

‘Selfish? What do you mean?’ I push against the wall he’s put up.

‘I can’t see a future where we work out. This wasn’t fair on you.’

‘But that makes no sense... You told me that you... that I—’ I say, stumbling over almost three months of memories of us together.

All the jokes we would throw at each other in the office, the dancing in the club, the way my heart would beat every time he smiled at me, that time we got stuck in an elevator, the kisses we shared at Judgement, in his house, after the pub quiz. Our hour-long conversations over the phone, the accidental glances at each other over our screens that would lead to laughter. His hands on my body, and me wanting him so bad.

His eyes are closed; he shakes his head as if to dispel the same thoughts. He takes a strained breath through a solemn smile. ‘I guess, better luck next time.’

Just like that, Toby has made it completely impossible for me to argue with his decision, because in the end, even if I wanted to fight for this—he doesn’t.

‘They are waiting for you,’ I say, as tears roll down my eyes. ‘At the bowling alley. Happy birthday.’

The sun is still up in the sky when I leave the cafe, my body completely numb. Figures that it would be sunny on his birthday. My hand reaches into my pocket, dialling the number I have promised not to call in moments of desperation.

‘Hello, Fuko?’ says the surprised voice at the end of the line.

‘I know we haven’t spoken in a while, and it’s fucked up that I’m calling you when I need something. But I need to see you to get my mind off things.’

‘You know where to find me.’

CHAPTER 36

’Tis but a scratch, just an ego bruise

I ended up in front of the house that I have so many memories attached to. All the drunken nights, staying for tea, watching trashy reality. Everything that stopped, but everyone always knew that one day I would be right in front of this door.

It was only a matter of time before we stepped into each other’s arms again.

‘What happened, chicken?’ Sashka’s hand is stroking over my head.

‘You will find humour in this, I hope. Toby broke up with me.’ I wipe my nose with my hand, remembering her doing the same at my door.

‘What?’ Her eyes widen, looking around to see whether there are hidden cameras.

She sits me down in her kitchen, preps a plate of Ukrainian sweets—shipuchka hard candies with their fizzing centres, poppy seed buns, korivka caramels, and Evening Kyiv chocolates—and a shot glass of chilli pepper vodka. It burns on the way down, but it loosens my tongue to spill out of my heart.

I tell her everything, about what we did, who I was with him. About the daunting charity swim that I’m meant to do soon that we said we would do together. She pours me more, and I let her know that I love him and that he really made me believe that he loved me too.

‘Men are fucking pigs. I hate him,’ I grumble into a sweet wrapper, as I finish the last one of the Kyiv chocolates.

‘They so are,’ Sashka says with a supportive best friend’s zhoosh that deflates when she says, ‘I just don’t see Toby doing that.’

‘Well, he fucking did. This is what I get for trying. I could have been so much better without him.’

‘So much better, girl!’ She does it again and then pours me tea. ‘But maybe there is a different explanation to this.’

‘Sashka! You are not doing our break-up ritual properly. It’s like your head is not in it.’

‘I’m sorry! I just...’ She looks out the window of her absolutely beautiful period kitchen. ‘It doesn’t make sense to me. You two were going to make it. He was the one that convinced me.’

‘Well, he is a bloody liar and a fucking prick.’ I don’t know why I am getting angry at her over not fully supporting my emotional breakdown.

‘No, you don’t get it, Fuko. The way you spoke about him earlier was the way he spoke about you. Something must have happened. Maybe his parents have a lot more pull than what he said to you.’