We Were On a Break: The hilarious and romantic top ten bestseller

I stole a sideways glance at my boyfriend. Nothing.

‘It’s a long way from Tulum, isn’t it?’ I clucked as we flew past the supermarket my dad swore he would never shop at until he found out he could get a free coffee every time he went in. The little village Co-op had closed within six months, it never stood a chance. ‘Makes you think.’

About what, I wasn’t sure.

Another left turn took us off the high street and down the little lane that led to the surgery.

‘We’re going to mine?’ I asked, sounding like I’d sandpapered my throat on the way home.

We never stayed at mine because Adam hated staying at mine. Mine being a tiny one-bedroom flat above the veterinary surgery as opposed to Adam’s three-bedroom house with a great big garden and no attached neighbours. Adam claimed the flat was haunted by the Ghosts of Pets Past and their late-night howling kept him awake but I had an inkling it was more to do with the fact he didn’t like being away from his fancy coffee maker and king-size bed. Out of the three years we’d been together, I could count the number of nights we’d spent together in my flat on one hand. Most of my things were over at Adam’s but since my parents were oddly old-fashioned about these things, I had never officially moved in. I slept at mine once, maybe twice, a week, if my evening surgery ran late or Abi demanded a sleepover but really, it was little more than an unnecessarily well-furnished storage locker.

Adam’s Land Rover crunched along the gravel outside the surgery and the motion-activated security lights shone accusingly into my eyes. Exhausted and frustrated, all I wanted was to go to bed. Maybe a couple of hours of decent kip would help, things always got blown out of proportion outside of daylight hours and everyone knew things seemed worse when you were tired. I opened the passenger side door and stumbled out onto the drive – Adam’s car really wasn’t made for a short arse like me. Retrieving my suitcase from the boot, I was staggering down the path with my suitcase, halfway to the front door, keys in hand before I realized Adam was still in the car. Still wearing his seatbelt. Still gripping the steering wheel as though the car might tear away all on its own.

‘Are you planning on sleeping out here?’ I asked, the sharp edges of my house keys cutting into my fingers. ‘It’s a bit cold for a camp-out.’

‘No,’ he replied, eyes straight ahead. ‘I’m going home.’

I took a deep, calming breath.

‘Adam,’ I said as softly as I could. ‘Come inside—’

‘I need to sort some stuff out,’ he cut me off, nodding once at his windshield. Even though he was looking in my general direction, his eyes didn’t quite meet mine. ‘I need a break, Liv.’

‘Well, you’ve just had a holiday,’ I pointed out, trying not to yawn. ‘That was a two-week break.’

‘I don’t mean that kind of break,’ he tailed off with a huffing noise and then turned the key in the ignition. ‘I need a break from this, a break from us.’

The security light blinked out above me, leaving me in disorienting darkness for too long a moment. The only thing I could make out was Adam’s profile, etched in orange light from his glowing dashboard.

‘What?’

My handbag slid off my shoulder, landed on my foot and then hit the ground, its contents spilling all over the floor. Inside the surgery I heard a few drowsy barks and whimpers as the security light flashed back into life, dazzling me with its angry white light.

‘I’m tired, Liv,’ he muttered, gunning the engine. ‘I’m going home and I’ll talk to you later.’

Without any further explanation, he reversed quickly and peeled out of the driveway, showering me with gravel as he went. Stunned, I reached down to grab my handbag and felt an unexpected tear roll out of my dry eye and off the end of my nose. Inside the bag, my phone was flashing with a text message. It was Cassie, up for a three a.m. feed.

ARE YOU ENGAGED???? DID HE DO IT??????

‘No,’ I whispered to my phone, tears falling freely down my face as I knelt on the floor. ‘I’m just knackered, miserable and desperate for a wee.’

The sharp stones of the driveway dug into my knees, and underneath all the plasters my foot was screaming but I couldn’t feel any of it. I couldn’t feel anything at all. Swiping the back of my hand across my face, I scooped all my things back into my handbag then dragged my suitcase through the gravel, up to the door of my little flat, alone.

3 (#u3639045d-8d3c-52aa-86b4-f8087e2ca335)

‘Morning, Nutsack.’

There was nothing like waking up to a phone call from my brother to ruin a perfectly good Tuesday before it had even begun.

‘You there or did the kidnappers answer your phone?’ he said when I didn’t reply. He laughed at his own joke, still waiting for a response. ‘If this is the kidnappers, we don’t want him back. Do what you’ve got to do.’

‘Very funny, Chris.’ I yawned loudly, grinding my fists into my eyes. Why was I asleep on the settee? Why was I still wearing my coat? Why did I have a horrible feeling that I’d ruined my life?

Oh.

Yeah.

I stretched out the crick in my neck and squinted at the devastation in my living room, suitcase dumped open by the door, jumper thrown across the floor, duty free bottle of whiskey left open, knocked over by a flying shoe and emptied out onto my rug.

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing you want to tell me, little brother?’ he asked. ‘Nothing you’d like to share before I see it plastered all over social media?’

‘Nope.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

I stretched as far as I could without getting up and dug around in the suitcase for the little square box I’d been carrying around for three months. It wasn’t there.

‘You didn’t do it?’

‘I really don’t want to talk about it,’ I assured him, panic rising. Where was the ring? ‘What do you want?’

‘Whatever you say, dude,’ he replied, letting go far more easily than I had anticipated. ‘Dad needs a lift to the supermarket and I can’t take him. Can you pick him up?’

‘I just got off a plane.’ I lay back down, head spinning from my ill-advised three a.m. nightcap and felt something digging into my hip. It was the ring box, nestling in between the sofa cushions. ‘Why can’t you take him?’

‘Because I’ve got a job, Adam, and I’m on my way into the office. You can’t tell I’m in the car at all, can you? I got this new Bluetooth hook up for the Jag and it’s so clear I—’

‘Can’t you take the day off?’ I interrupted, picking up the ring box and letting the sharp corners dig into my palm. ‘I thought you were your own boss.’

‘No such thing as a day off when you run your own company,’ he scoffed. ‘I’ve barely had a minute to myself in the last month. Honestly, I’m out for a morning and my number two doesn’t know whether to shit or wind his watch. I’ve employed idiots, Adam, it’s a miracle we’re even still going, let alone doing so well. I’ve got to go in today, we’re pitching for this—’

‘I’ll take him,’ I said quickly. I didn’t have the stomach for another Chris Floyd lecture on how Very Important he was. ‘I’ll be there in an hour; let me have a shower and I’ll go over.’

‘OK, I’ll let him know,’ Chris replied cheerfully. ‘So, what went wrong? Did you not have a good time? Cass is dying to hear all about it.’

‘Yeah, something like that,’ I said, rubbing my temples. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Well, I hope you’re planning to be more talkative tomorrow night. You’re both still coming round for dinner, aren’t you?’

‘Uh, I don’t know,’ I said, sitting up and faking a cough. I’d forgotten, I always forgot. Liv managed our social calendar. I was in charge of making sure she ate solid food and she was in charge of making sure I entered the outside world. It had been a good system until now. ‘I’ve not been feeling brilliant. I don’t want to come if I’ve got a cold. You know, the baby.’

‘Oh yeah,’ he replied. ‘I suppose not. You pick it up on holiday?’

‘On the plane, I think,’ I went for another cough, trying to get a bit more of a hack into it and putting Chris on speaker while I checked my emails and messages. ‘Been feeling shit all night.’