Page 17 of The Pop-Up Cake Shop

‘Goodbye, Richard.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

I turned and slipped into the lift just as it was closing, suddenly aware that a whole group of tourists must have heard the tail-end of our break-up. I could feel dozens of eyes boring into my back, and the lift seemed to take an eternity to reach the ground floor.

I escaped with relief as soon as the doors opened and hurried away, out onto a New York street that now felt alien and scary – just like my suddenly uncertain future.

Richard’s concerned face, as the lift doors had closed, was burned on my mind’s eye.

He was right, of course. Things hadn’t been great between us for a while.

But knowing that didn’t make me feel any less devastated by the cruel way it had all come crashing to an end...

*****

On the subway journey back to the apartment, I investigated flights to the UK, just wanting to be home. But I pretty soon realised it was impossible.

Unless I wanted to bankrupt myself, which would make me feel even worse than I already did, I’d just have to stick it out in New York for another two days until the flight I’d originally booked was ready to leave.

I spent as little time as possible packing up my belongings in the apartment. Catching my reflection in a mirror, I saw how flushed I was and stopped in my tracks. It wasn’t my red cheeks I was focusing on now, though. It was the diamond stud earrings. The gift from Richard. I’d loved them when he’d bought them for me – but now, I wondered about why he had done that. Werethey a final gift because he knew he was about to bin me off and he was feeling guilty about that?

Or... I suddenly remembered how very eager he was for us to leave the apartment the previous morning. I’d thought he was just wanting to make the most of the time we had for sightseeing. But the cleaners’ van had drawn up just as we left.

I gave a bitter laugh.

That was the reason for all the hurry – he’d known the cleaners would be arriving that morning and he couldn’t risk me running into Emily. Or more importantly,Emilyrunning intome. He hadn’t told Emily that I was coming over, for obvious reasons. As far as she was concerned, we’d broken up at Christmas, so why would I be visiting my ex in New York? He would have had a lot of explaining to do if we’d happened to meet.

But I’d wanted to go back for my earrings, and of course, he couldn’t have allowed that because Emily would have been there, cleaning the apartment. So he’d obviously made up the Tiffany’s visit on the spur of the moment – again, to avoid his two women clashing with each other.

It also explained why he’d been verging on obsessed with me clearing away my belongings into the drawers before leaving the apartment. He’d said it was because the cleaners didn’t do a good enough job when the surfaces were cluttered. But thinking about it now, the real reason was because when Emily came in to clean the place, she would have noticed my stuff lying around and she would have known that Richard had a woman staying in the apartment.

The idea of all this took my breath away. The audacity of the man! To lie about the drawer thing and to pretend he’d planned all along to buy me some jewellery, when really, it was just a ruse to keep me away from the apartment...

Fumbling a little, I took out the earrings, shoved them back in the little turquoise box and threw the box into my case. Tears flooded my eyes. Those earrings would always remind me of the day Richard broke up with me. I could never wear them again.

I heard a sudden noise out in the corridor and my heart lurched, thinking it was Richard back to give me more of his guilt-ridden sob story about how he really couldn’t help himself when he slept with Emily.

Sighing with relief when I heard voices and people entering the next-door apartment, I speeded up my packing, just wanting to be out of there. I wanted never to have to see Richard’s stupid, sad-looking, guilty expression ever again – although I knew that would be hard, since he just happened to be my friend Fen’s brother.

A few moments later I was sliding the key through the letterbox and making good my escape – although to where, I had absolutely no idea.

Out on the street, I walked until I found a park, trailing my suitcase behind me. Then I sat on a bench and looked at the prices of hotels nearby. They were expensive – Richard’s apartment was quite centrally located – so I had to look further afield than Manhattan. I needed somewhere to stay for the next couple of days until my flight left.

Eventually, I found a one-bed apartment in a place called Sunset Park, in the Brooklyn area of New York. It was a bit of a trek by the subway but at least I wasn’t spending a month’s wages to stay two nights in a centrally-located Manhattan hotel! Plus the route back to the airport looked simple enough.

When I arrived, I found a bakery nearby. And even though I currently felt like I wouldn’t be able to eat a thing for weeks, I nonetheless stocked up on cakes and pastries, planning to go to ground in the apartment for forty-eight hours.

Not that I had any appetite at all. But hopefully the feeling like a washing machine churning round and round on an endless slow spin cycle in my stomach would eventually calm down. And when it did, copious carbs would no doubt be what I’d crave in my despair.

I had no intention of doing any more sightseeing. All the joy had gone out of my trip. I’d hole up in the tiny apartment and distract myself with American TV until it was finally time to go home.

The first twenty-four hours were awful. I had friends texting me, asking how I was enjoying myself, but the thought of trying to explain what had happened was too much for my weary brain. So I switched off the phone and took to my bed, just wanting to escape the horrible memories.

But my brain wouldn’t switch off, however many sheep I tried to count.

So at two in the morning, I abandoned the whole idea of getting any sleep, got up, took some pillows through to the bijou sofa in the kitchen-living area and stared blearily at the TV, wondering what the hell I was going to do now.

My whole life had been centred around doing things with Richard.

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