Page 24 of Meet Me in Berlin

I shake his hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Caleb.’

He gestures to some customers who’ve just walked in. ‘Work calls. We’ll message in the morning through Insta and sort out details?’

‘Sounds good.’ I pull out my purse to pay for the wine.

‘Leave that. It’s on me,’ he says and rushes back to the bar.

I slip on my coat and head outside. Such a strange afternoon, and it’s unearthed something in me – a glimmer of possibility. I swing the camera strap over my shoulder and start walking in search of my next photo subject.

Chapter 8

Casey, London

Istretch out my arms and legs as I slowly stir. My eyelids open and Eva comes into focus, perched on the end of the bed, arms crossed, lips pursed. ‘Jesus,’ I say. ‘You scared me.’ I grope around for my phone. ‘You’re awake already? What time is it?’

‘I’m awake because it’s eleven and we need to be at my parents’ by one.’

I groan. ‘It’s Saturday morning, Eva. I need more sleep.’

‘Well, you can’t, because we need to leave soon.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, Casey, we arranged it.’

‘You arranged it. I didn’t have a say – as usual.’

She scoffs, her arms still tightly crossed. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. I don’t want to go.’

She glares at me.

‘You never come to my parents’ when I ask you,’ I say.

‘That’s different.’

My defences rise. ‘How? Because my parents’ house isn’t as nice as yours?’

Her arms relax. ‘That’s not what I meant. It’s different because today we’re going over the speeches, finalising the menu…’

I throw the pillow over my head and groan. I can’t deal with weddings at this hour. ‘You don’t need me there,’ I say, my voice muffled.

She rips the pillow off me. ‘I do! I need your support.’

‘Tell them I’m sick. It’s not untrue.’

‘Well, if you hadn’t been out drinking and taking drugs all night with Jaz, you’d be able to do things with your fiancée.’ She hops up and opens the curtains. The late morning light floods the room and I glimpse some blue sky, the grey from yesterday gone.

‘We weren’t taking drugs all night.’ I throw off the duvet and head to the kitchen, Eva on my tail. I flick the switch on the kettle and grab the cafetière, scooping in some ground coffee beans.

‘Oh, so you were taking drugs, then?’

‘We had a few lines, some drinks, and danced.’ The vet nurse materialises in my mind, but I quickly banish the image and shove down the guilt. ‘I was having a good time with my bestie. It was a stressful week. I’m allowed to have fun, Eva.’ I fill the cafetière with boiling water, plunge it and pour two coffees, handing one to her before shuffling back to the bedroom.

‘I bet Jaz got off with someone,’ she says, following me.

‘She did.’ I sip the coffee, the strong, bitter flavour satisfying my tastebuds, and climb back into bed.

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