Page 14 of Before You Say Goodbye

The coffee shop they’d agreed to meet in was swanky, not at all like the places she usually frequented. She felt out of place and was relieved when a man arrived.

His name was Jim. He was tall, with dark hair and a pretty smile.

“I’m pleased to note your strong Instagram following and that you take advantage of social trends,” he said, replying to a text message as he spoke. Autumn tried to tell him her writing was not about taking advantage of anyone, but she could tell he didn’t care, so she stopped talking. He was paying her to write and putting it out there. That was all that mattered.

When she finally had Jim’s full attention, she told him the details of her next project, which he’d asked to see before she showed it to any other publishers. He was a little disheartened to learn it was about chickens and not the stray dog story she had pitched to his assistant on the telephone, but she told him it would likely be better received by fans of her work. Since they were her biggest supporters, it made sense to make them happy. He listened intently, then ordered an egg sandwich to take away with him for lunch. He agreed Autumn should write about what inspired her and gave her permission to submit a first draft. She was thrilled to negotiate a significant advance should hermanuscript be accepted, which would give her plenty of time to write her book without worrying about eating too far into her savings. She felt proud of herself. She was powerful.

She checked her phone the second Jim said goodbye, certain she’d have a voicemail from Bowie. There was nothing. Her heart sank. She chided herself. It had only been half a day. Tired, she moved to cross the road to take the subway home, where she planned on snatching a few hours of sleep.

“How did it go?” someone asked from behind her. She recognised Bluebell’s voice. Bluebell, sister of her lover, who had been on her mind, dancing in the periphery, all day. Guilt and shame coursed through her body. She fought hard to hide them from her features as she turned to face her friend. Bluebell looked flustered. She was fishing through her purse. It gave Autumn the ten seconds or so she needed to hide her jitters. “Sorry I’m late,” Bluebell added.

“What are you doing here?” Autumn asked. She was sick with shock. Bluebell, who was still faffing with her bank cards, replied absentmindedly.

“I said I’d meet you here,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”

Autumn shook her head. She urged herself to act naturally — to hug her friend and express her delight at her presence like she usually would — but she felt too guilty to manage it. Plus, she was quite sure Bluebell would not want Autumn’s grubby sex hands all over her. She felt awful. In the light and sensibleness of the morning, she was now even more certain that Bluebell would definitely not be OK with her doing what she had done with Bowie, the brother her friend adored, five times in just less than seven hours. She swallowed audibly. Bluebell heard it. She tossed her purse back into her bag, pouting.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she said.

Autumn focused very carefully on the inflection in her answer.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I forced you to come out last night then bailed on you for Adam?”

Autumn had completely forgotten.

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not mad.”

Bluebell had actually done her a favour, although she didn’t know it yet.

“Well, I’m sorry.” Bluebell sighed. “It was a shitty thing to do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Autumn shook her head again. Bluebell smiled sweetly and stepped forward, taking Autumn’s hand and swaying playfully from side to side.

“Well, I feel bad,” she said. “Let me buy you a coffee to apologise? You can tell me about your meeting and I can tell you how annoying Adam is.”

Without waiting for an answer, Bluebell gracefully turned their handholding to arm-linking, leading Autumn in an unfamiliar direction.

“And thank you for understanding,” she added. “I knew you would. You really are a truly great friend.”

* * *

Bluebell was still regaling Autumn with tales of the evening before when their coffee arrived twenty minutes later.

“So, basically, we’re exactly where we were before. I want to sleep with him, but I don’t want him to be my boyfriend, but he only wants to be with me, so he says he won’t sleep with me again until I agree not to sleep with anyone else, which is ridiculous, because I really couldn’t care less who he puts his dick in, and I don’t see why he cares so much about who puts their dick in me, do you know what I mean?”

Autumn did know what she meant, so she nodded. She didn’t mind Bluebell’s rambling. It was a welcome distraction from her own torturous thoughts. Bluebell continued.

“We had amazing sex, then a massive fight, then amazing sex again. I don’t know why he won’t just do what I want him to do. Men are so frustrating.”

Autumn checked her phone. Still nothing.

“How was Marley?” Bluebell asked.

Autumn snapped to attention. “Marley?”

Bluebell’s eyes went wide and she gasped.

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