‘Shitting hell.’ I pressed my hand to my chest.
Rory stood in front of me, massaging his temples like he was warding off the beginnings of a headache. ‘Sorry. Thought for a second it might have been that dickhead.’ He paused, his chest rising and falling dramatically. ‘I was ready to give him a piece of my mind. He literally left her on the kerb outside the pub.’
I was beginning to piece together what might have happened. I followed him through to the living room, where Maeve was sitting on the sofa, knees tucked to her chest and panda eyes in full force.
‘Hey Mae.’ I dropped my bag on our rug and sat beside her, rubbing her back. ‘What’s going on?’
Maeve was not a wailer. She was usually more of a quiet weeper – very in touch with her emotions, and able to keep them under control. But now that she’d laid eyes on me, heavy sobs were (I presumed) starting all over again. ‘He dumped me.’
It was jarring to have my suspicions confirmed. I exchanged a look with Rory – one that said ‘what on earth is our plan of action?’ before wrapping Maeve up in my arms. Rory joined us, his long arms easily bringing us both into the hug.
‘We’ve got you.’ I rubbed my best friend’s back, feeling the weight of her sadness. ‘We’ve got you, I promise.’
With Maeve in between us, I could communicate with Rory over the top of her head. She hiccupped against my chest.
‘Why?’ I mouthed it to Rory.
He shrugged. ‘No idea.’
I tentatively pulled back to gather some more information, so that I knew what we were dealing with. I’d become an expert in other people’s heartbreak over the years. Was this a small tiff that could be repaired overnight? Or a bigger rift that had been widening over time?
‘Did he say why?’
Maeve rubbed her eyes. ‘The distance. He said he’s been thinking about it for a while, and the’ – she took a moment to inhale a jagged breath – ‘the engagement just reminded him how far away we were from that.’
I frowned – there was no solving long distance overnight. Not when both of them loved their jobs as much as they did. You couldn’t close the gap between London and Hull with a click of your fingers. Adrian was supposed to be her one, as she’d phrased it in the past. And now he wasn’t.
‘I tried to reason with him, but there was no changing his mind.’ The wails had subsided a bit now. ‘It just feels so sudden.’
Neither of us knew what to say. Heartbreak was just so colossally, completely shit.
‘You know, maybe this is for the best.’ Rory pulled her into his side, giving her a big squeeze. ‘Long distance has been stressing you both out for a long time. Not able to live fully in either place.’
She recoiled. ‘I didn’t mind that.’
Maeve was blinded by sadness right now, but I knew that wasn’t true. Every other Friday after work she’d had to trek to King’s Cross with her suitcase, and come back on Sunday evening never feeling rested enough to start the new week. She’d struggled to bond with his friends as she was never involved in the inside jokes, and it had got to a point – like today – where both of them often arrived tired and cranky. Sometimes, all the will in the world didn’t seem like enough. I went to the fridge and got a bottle of cheap chardonnay. She took the glass I offered her and downed it.
‘Let’s just take this one day at a time, okay?’ I poured some for myself, and Rory headed to the fridge to grab a beer. Wine gave him the worst hangovers. ‘All we have to do right now is get through tonight.’
Maeve nodded. ‘I can do that.’
I pulled our fluffy throw over the three of us, grabbing the TV remote so that we could find the most distracting, psychologically disturbing show from Maeve’s watch list.
‘And you know,’ Rory said, squeezing her hand, ‘this is going to be character-building.’
She snorted. ‘You absolute prick.’
I grabbed her other hand, squeezing it just as tight. This situation was almost enough to stop me ever texting match five back. Heartbreak was not high on my personal to-do list.
8
I closed the door lightly, holding my breath and trying not to wake my sleeping best friend. Maeve had tossed and turned all night; it was a good thing I slept like a log. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted to live with a flatmate instead of living alone; I was screwed if a fire alarm went off in the early hours. Well, that – and being able to share the Deliveroo order fee was a godsend.
‘Boo.’
I jumped out of my skin. ‘That’s the second time you’ve skyrocketed my blood pressure in less than twelve hours.’
Rory was sitting at the kitchen island, already suited and booted and drinking a cup of coffee. I stared pointedly at the mug he was holding – my favourite mug from Oliver Bonas with the intentionally wonky handle and the tiny yellow stars on it, to be exact. Last time I’d had a favourite mug – a decade-old, faded one that had come free with a Mini Eggs Easter egg when I was a teenager – he’d managed to chip it during a vicious game of Monopoly. I eyed him suspiciously.
‘Just so you know, that mug cost over ten British pounds.’
He looked at it. ‘Really? It looks like my niece made it. Yours is ready too’ – he pointed to a second mug – ‘and we need to leave in ten minutes.’
‘Thanks.’ I went over and started adding a shit ton of sugar. ‘I wonder if the matches between the eyelids trick actually works.’
‘Long night?’ Rory winced as I added a third teaspoon of sugar.
‘Well, I doubt if she – or I – got more than three hours.’
He’d slept in my bed whilst I’d shared with Maeve. It wasn’t unusual for Rory to spend the night; he had an emergency stash of deodorant and boxers at the back of my wardrobe. It was unusual for him to get the whole bed rather than the couch, and I’d silently cursed him at 3 a.m. when I was wide awake under Maeve’s gingham duvet.
‘Ouch. I could kill Adrian, I really could.’
‘I think probably not the best course of action. You’re too pretty for prison, Ror.’ I dashed back into my own room now, eyes zeroing in on the work outfit I’d had the foresight to pick out yesterday before the engagement party. I brushed my hair back into a hair claw, twisting the strands so it looked like an intentional style rather than overdue a hair wash. A slick of eyebrow gel and a brush of mascara later and I looked semi-presentable. When I got back to the kitchen, Rory was busy doodling on a Post-it note.
‘What’s that?’
He looked up. ‘Just a little “you’ve got this” note for Maeve.’
