Page 60 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

‘Have you invited all my team?’ I ask. I’m aware of the slight emphasis I place on the word “my” and as Anya’s lips press together ever so slightly, I see the inflection hit home.

‘Only Tim,’ she replies casually, increasing the wattage of her smile. ‘I thought as he did a lot of the work on the pitch, it was only fair he got the update at the same time.’

Oblivious to any undercurrent Tim rubs his hands together and heads for the mini-bar. ‘Champagne all round, then?’

‘That’s a negative,’ I say.

‘What?’ There’s a look of utter disbelief on his face as he comes to an abrupt halt. ‘You didn’t get the account?’

‘We didn’t get the account,’ I correct.

‘I don’t understand,’ he says and admittedly I feel sorry for him because it’s not like I don’t understand what he’s feeling.

‘They’re going another way,’ I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. ‘It happens.’

‘What other way could they possibly go?’ Anya asks. ‘You laid out your concept clearly?—’

‘No,’ I correct again. ‘I laid out the campaign you came up with.’

In the silence, Anya stares at me, assessing me. Assimilating. ‘I see,’ she says after a beat. She smooths down the line of her navy-blue pencil skirt and then looks at Tim with a warm smile that has me frowning. ‘Tim, would you step out, please?’

‘If you’re sure?’ Tim replies.

I catch the look of concern he gives her. What exactly does he think is going to happen here? And he does know he works for me, right? Not Anya? Because if he wants to swap to Anya’s team, I’m all for it.

At least I think I am because wait a minute… Call me paranoid but does that look he gave her mean something else? Is Tim under the very mistaken impression there’s a fissure in Anya and my relationship? Is he seriously hovering on the sidelines waiting?

I stand tall and stare Tim down until, finally, he gets a bloody clue, and as he backs out of the room says, ‘Of course. I’ll um, let you guys get your meeting on. Like, no worries.’

As the door swings shut behind him, I sigh and say into the silence, ‘Why does that guy not do your head in? Like, completely!’

‘So,’ Anya says, ignoring my comment. ‘We’re doing the blame game? It’s my fault you lost the account?’

‘No. Yes.’ I throw myself into the chair opposite hers as the disappointment glues itself to the failure already sitting on my shoulders. ‘It’s mostly mine.’ I need to be honest. ‘But don’t worry, I’m going to fix it.’

‘Fix it?’

‘I should have insisted we went with my concept of everyone getting a piece of the pie.’

‘We agreed it was too risky. Too eleventh hour. You hadn’t had time to do testing and we had a solid idea ready to go.’

I hear what she’s saying yet looking back I don’t know why I didn’t insist harder. For longer. I mean, of course I was vocal on the subject. That morning before the team from Perfect Pies arrived at our offices no one could have doubted my passion for the idea I’d come up with. I’d had my team working on it all night, for heaven’s sake. I was one hundred per cent confident in it.

But maybe not in myself?

That’s what has me so furious.

Why would my gut instinct pack its bag and move out the minute I had one lousy panic attack? I’ve never second-guessed myself like that before. Never. Then, I go and get the promotion I’ve been working towards for over a year and… bam … confidence has left the building hot on the heels of gut instinct?

‘Anyway,’ I say, striving to keep the anger locked in. ‘Lesson learned because I’m going to go back to them. Lay out the approach I was going to take?—’

‘George, let it go. I know it’s hard. Getting that account would have been great for the agency but you pitched – and didn’t get it. No one gets a do-over in this business and I really don’t advise letting the agency look like it’s desperate for business. You have other campaigns. Pursuing other options, chasing other leads and working on what you do have, will ease the sting. Believe me. I’ve been there.’

I don’t believe it. Is Anya seriously quoting back to me my own psychobabble bullshit about recovering from disappointment?

And she hasn’t been where I am.

I doubt her equilibrium has ever once wobbled let alone allowed itself to feel as if it’s been picked up, chucked in the washing machine, and put on a fast spin.

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