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‘I just don’t love you,’ he said. It was the most brutal dumping Grace had ever had. And she’d had a few. But if Grace was being honest with herself, which didn’t happen often, then it wasn’t a complete surprise. She’d seen the light gradually dim in Liam’s eyes like a torch with dying batteries. He’d begun to look at her in this bemused way, as if the actual dating was a major letdown after the months they’d spent skirting around each other and snogging furiously as they had waited for the night bus. He’d even stopped holding her hand when they crossed the street, so Grace didn’t need to be a cartographer to read the signs: being dumped was inevitable. But she’d never expected it to happen on her birthday. In Liberty’s. Right by the new season Marc Jacobs bags. ‘You’re finishing with me?’ Grace clarified, her voice metronome steady. ‘On my birthday?’ Finally Liam found the balls to look her in the eyes, before his gaze skittered away to rest on the tomato–red, outsized Hobo she’d been admiring before he turned up and crunched the day under his tatty Converses. Grace should have known better than to arrive at Liberty’s all quivery and expectant that maybe, just maybe, Liam had finally got his shit together and was going to buy her some serious designer real estate as a birthday present. She wasn’t picky’ she’d have settled for a key fob or a marked-down hairslide. ‘I wasn’t going to split up with you. Not today, anyway. But then I don’t know…I just saw you standing there and I couldn’t hold it in any longer,’ Liam said heavily, shoulders slumping under his leather jacket. It was too hot for leather jackets even if you were a wannabe indie rock star in your very wildest dreams. Reading Group Discussion Guide
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