Page 80 of The F*ck-It List

“We have coffee, tea, cakes. I’m afraid we’re all out of brownies as a lovely young lady just bought the last one for herfiancé. Hope he appreciates it as it’s probably the last one he’ll ever have.” They tilt their head and wait for me to make an order.

I grip the edge of the counter with both hands and hang my head between my shoulders. Fuck my actual life. I feel the heavy shroud ofdisappointment and smell the distinct sweetness of Chanel Number Five before I hear Ruth’s voice.

“August.”

“Not now, Ruth.” I sigh.

“What is that girl doing back here?” Ruth ignores me. “And why was she at your house, parading your ring around?”

“I don’t know!” I shout, more eyes snapping to me.

Ruth jerks back a bit in surprise, eyes going wide, and I look around at my unwanted audience. “I would very much appreciate it if you could all butt out. Just this once.” I ignore the slight hurt in Ruth’s eyes—even though it’s exactly what I’ve been asking for years—and turn back to Cas, pleadingly. “Please, I need to talk to Bea.”

Cas arches a dark brow. “I have two questions for you, answer them and I’ll decide if you get to see her. These are yes or no questions and you get no other words. No ands, ifs, or buts, just yes or no.”

My head drops forward again because I know this won’t go well for me.

“Did you ask that woman to marry you?” Cas asks.

I huff out a defeated sigh. “Yes.”

Cas makes a knowing sound. “And did you ever have a conversation in which the engagement was officially called off?”

I look up at them, my vision blurring because I know I’ve fucked up. “It’s complicated,” I try.

“Yes or no,” Cas reminds me with menacing calm.

“No,” I croak.

“Then I suggest you go home and respect Bea’s need for space right now and you better hope you and I don’t cross paths again until I’ve calmed the fuck down.”

Cas is terrifying and I am broken. I want to punch the wall and curl up in my bed to sleep for a year. But I don’t do any of that, I slump forward until my head thunks loudly on the counter, it hurts but I deserve the pain. Straightening myself up, I give one more desperate look to Cas, but they just glare witheringly back and I’m leaving the café again, defeated and pissed the fuck off.

Back through my front door, I storm to the kitchen, Meghan is stood awkwardly, like she didn’t know what to do with herself after I left.

“August, I—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I seethe. “Why now?”

Tears spring to her chocolate brown eyes, a sight that would have once doused my fiery rage and prompted me to hold her, but today it seems to have the opposite effect. “I-I was having a bit of a hard time, and I wanted to come home.” She blinks up at me, pushing tears down her cheeks to leave trails of mascara in their wake. “I got in late and didn’t want to wake my parents, I know they would worry.” She sniffs, bottom lip trembling, and pulls one shoulder to her ear before letting it drop again. “I guess this was always my safe space.”

“Your safe space?” I repeat, incensed. “But you couldn’t get away from it fast enough!” She looks down at her feet. “You’re having a hard time, so you thought you’d just come waltzing back here to fuck with me?”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head vehemently. “I wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear. I know it was unfair of me to come here, I get that, but like I said, I didn’t know where else to go and I knew we should probably talk.”

“You think?” I yell, losing all trace of control. “I have been trying to get hold of you for months, Meghan.”

“Really?” I hate the little ray of hope shining up at me through her watery eyes.

“You’ve fucked my credit and left me on the hook for your collections,” I growl.

She blinks at me, her expression morphing into confusion. “I…what?”

“The loan for your car?” I remind her. “It was in my name because you didn’t have the credit, remember? Back when we used to actually mean something to each other.” I witness the pain slash across her face, but I ignore it. “I took out the loan in my name, but you were supposed to pay it back. You stopped making payments and they’ve been coming at me with final notices; threatening bailiffs and my credit is absolutely fucked.” My heart it going a mile a minute, adrenaline and anger mixing to a dangerous concoction, I feel like I could pass out.

“B-but I sold the car,” she says, her brows dipped low and she shakes her head.

“You still have to pay off the fucking loan,” I shout.