Page 66 of Hate You to Love You

‘Carlos!’ Elliot yells out again. The strain in his voice is enough to stop me in my tracks. I spin around to face him, a little apprehensive.

‘Are you mad about me leaving?’ he asks, although I fear he already knows the answer.

What can I tell him? That I’m torn between not wanting him to go and wanting him to chase his dreams? That I know how selfish it would be to ask him to give it up? Or that it hurt that this was such an easy decision for him to make? The fact that he could abandon me and our plans for the sake of his career stung, and there was nothing that could change it.

‘Carlos, just say something,’ Elliot says, exasperated.

‘I want to be happy for you, I really do. But I can’t,’ I finally admit, my lips trembling as I try not to cry.

He looks at me with despair.

‘I know that this is a chance to prove yourself at work, and that you applied before we even got together, but what about our plans? Didn’t they mean anything to you? How could you let me believe that we had a future?’

‘We do have a future. It’s just one year.’

‘It’s not just about you being gone for a year. It’s about the fact that you are choosing to leave. Did the rom-com pilgrimage even mean anything to you? You’re packing up, moving on and making leaving look so easy. Was this always going to happen when something better than me came along?’

‘You can’t tell me that if a similar opportunity came up for your writing you wouldn’t take it.’

‘That isn’t fair.’

He scoffs, more angry than upset now. ‘Actually, it is. Because you’re making all these assumptions about why I’m leaving without even giving me a chance to explain.’

‘Assumptions? You’re leaving. That is a fact.’

Elliot looks into my eyes and the sadness on his face makes me want to give in. But I can’t. I’d been living in this honeymoon period, thinking that what we had would never need to end. But it had when Elliot had chosen his job over me.

‘You’re going to go to London,’ I whisper to him as I begin to walk away. ‘You’re going to do great things and get the career you’ve always wanted.’ I push through the crowd, trying to get away from him before the tears spill out.

‘Carlos, wait! Is this goodbye?’ he calls out.

In that moment, I swear I feel my heart stop. My throat closes up. But I force the words out.

‘It’s goodbye,’ I say quietly.

With that, I make my way towards the exit. I want to look over my shoulder and get one last glance of him. In fact, I want to run back to Elliot and ask him to stay. But that wouldn’t be fair. I know how much this opportunity means to him: it means more to him than our relationship. And that’s why this has to be goodbye.

chapter thirty

now

A large crowd of excited Claudia Leighton fans have surrounded the entrance of Books Upstairs. Redhouse had set up a raffle for tickets to an intimate meet and greet with Claudia at the store. All her other Dublin appearances have been in-conversations where she had been interviewed onstage, so the fans were keen for any opportunity to speak with Claudia one on one. I make a mental note to get a few quotes about what meeting Claudia means to them.

As I make my way past the queue of excited readers, a woman slams her hand on the store window, screaming that she is Claudia’s biggest fan. There’s a young boy standing to the side of the group, dressed up as a character from the Golden Ruins series. Four security guards urge the crowd to move back. I squeeze past a barricade that’s been set up and give the security guards my name.

As soon as I’m in the store, my eyes are immediately drawn to the bookshelves that line the walls. They appear to stretch out endlessly, disappearing into adjacent rooms. A huge display of Irish literature dominates the front of the store.

There’s no sign of Elliot. The messages I sent last night remain unanswered. Even thinking about him makes my entire body tense up. This was exactly why I didn’t want to let him back into my life.

I shrug off my thoughts about him and head up the stairs, which lead to a small cafe space. The cafe was well known for hosting literary events. Big Irish authors like Sally Rooney and Mhairi McFarlane have launched here, which makes standing in this space feel like I’m playing a small part in literary history. It’s warm, cosy and inviting, with the crackle of the fireplace in the corner and freshly baked pastries by the coffee machine.

Claudia is sitting on a bench by the window, overlooking the crowd below. Their muffled screams echo throughout the store. A group of booksellers are unpacking boxes by the top of the stairs, a mix of Claudia’s backlist titles, merchandise and copies of the new book.

‘Good morning,’ I say to her.

‘If you’re looking for Elliot, I haven’t seen him. He’s a lot more stressed about this than I am,’ she says, still fixating out the window.

‘Actually, I wanted to ask how it feels to be meeting your fans again after so long,’ I say, steering the conversation away from being about Elliot.