‘No.’ I am absolute. ‘I don’t want to talk about the show. I don’t want to think about the show. I don’t want to see the show.’
‘You’re not interested?’
I shake my head. ‘OfcourseI’m interested. I’m dying to know what’s going on over there, but I can’t. Until I get my job back I can’t hear about it or talk about it. And I definitely can’t watch it. It would be too horrible.’
‘But—’ Edward shifts and I take a deep breath.
‘I’m not talking aboutMorning Tea,’ I say again. ‘We can talk about that night in the restaurant with Justin, we can even talk about tiramisu if you really want to, but not the show.’ When he doesn’t say anything, I speak again, spelling out the most important thing. ‘And just because I don’t want to face one horrible thing, doesn’t mean I have issues. I’m atherapist, Ed, I don’t need therapy.’
He watches me now, heavy-lidded and thoughtful. Eventually he does speak and it’s in his usual low, measured tone. ‘We’re nearly out of time today, Olivia. I think it’s going to be really useful going forward if you work on some exercises at home – some therapy homework if you will.’
He’s ignored everything I just said.
I sigh as he turns to find something on his desk. I zone out, casually picking up my phone again and opening Instagram. I don’t have access to my public account – thanks Fabian, you arse – but I do still have my personal, private profile, where I post under a fake name. The one where I share all the goofy pictures of me and Sam that theDaily Mailwould have a field day with.
I scroll through mindlessly, barely taking in the array of baby pictures and weddings from people I went to school with.
Then I stop. What did I just see?
I scroll back up a few posts.
No. No fucking way.
It can’t be.
It’s a post from Justin.
Justin. The man I was sure I was going to marry until three weeks ago. The guy I’m choosing to hold responsible for this whole mess I’ve recently made of my life. The person behind the ruination of my career and my reputation. The human-shaped reason I’ll never be able to eat tiramisu again.
He’s there, smiling his bloody head off, next to a woman I’ve never seen before. And there’s the caption. Short and so goddamned sweet.
‘Orla. #HardLaunch’.
I gape at it, horror creeping its way through my whole body.
No way. While my career burns down around me and I’m forced to make ash angels in what’s left of my life… Justin’s been busy finding himself a new girlfriend.
And she’sgorgeous.
This can’t be happening.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Sam!’ I scream as I enter the flat, slamming the front door behind me with such force, it makes the walls shake. ‘SAM!’
‘What?’ She emerges from her room. ‘Jesus,what?Are there more videos on TikTok of you being terrifying?’
I stare at her, my eyes filling with furious tears.
She gasps. ‘No, it’s something even worse… Is the daddy long-legs back?’
I shake my head. ‘He’s got a new girlfriend.’
She frowns at me. ‘What? What are you talking about? Weren’t you just with Edward for your first anger management sesh?’ Her eyebrows shoot up. ‘Edward?Do you mean Edward’s got a new girlfriend? Nooooooo!’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think Edward even has a penis. He would’ve had it all surgically removed when they sewed up his butthole.’
She frowns again. ‘Why would they sew up his—’
