Page 39 of Shout Out To My Ex

Still on the other thing. Keep you posted.

I send her a thumbs-up emoji and pay the cab driver. Time to get this case back on track.

12

ELLE

‘Look!’ I say, holding up my phone. ‘Insta’s going bananas, especially hashtag Bliss Designs, and we’re already up hundreds of followers since this morning. Same on Facebook. And check out this post on theFashion Weekaccount.’ I scroll, landing on a shot of me and Juju at the end of the runway, our arms raised. ‘We’re blowing up. We don’t need Leo.’

Cass dons an expression so dour even Maggie Smith couldn’t pull it off.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘It just feels… I don’t know,rude.’

‘Rude?’

‘Yes. He invited you to his show, we have front row seats… He’ll notice if we don’t turn up.’

‘Good.’

‘Elle.’

‘I don’t understand what the problem is. I never want to see him again – ever, for the rest of my life.’

‘That’s…extreme.’

‘It isn’t if I mean it, and I do. Which also means I don’t care if he thinks I’m rude.’ Cass expels a frustrated sigh, so I comeup with an alternative. ‘Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go by yourself?’

‘I’m not—’ She doesn’t finish her thought because we’re interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘That must be Poppy,’ she says, ‘come to collect her flowers.’ She emphasises ‘her’, an obvious dig at me, but I don’t care about the bloody peonies either!

Cass opens the door.

‘Hi,’ says Poppy, stepping inside our cramped room. ‘I promise not to be in your hair too long. I just wanted to go over some more background for the article.’

‘More background?’ I ask. ‘Didn’t we cover everything this afternoon at the bar?’

‘Actually, it’s a little more delicate than what we’ve already discussed. I have some questions about you and Lorenzo – or rather, Leo.’

‘What?’ My eyes fly towards Cass. ‘What is she talking about?’

‘I have no idea. Poppy?’

‘I know you said “off the record” before.’

‘Yes, and I meant that,’ I say. Until now, Poppy’s presence had been mostly unobtrusive, but this tangent is extremelyintrusive.

‘And I understand – I really do – but I just heard from my editor. There’s a photo going around – of the two of you. I’ve got a copy on my phone.’

My stomach roils as I imagine a grainy photo of me and Leo during uni days, probably at some party and slightly drunk.

Poppy taps on her phone. ‘This one,’ she says, holding it out.

I don’t know if I can look. It’s the Schrodinger’s cat of photographs. If Idon’tlook then it won’t be a photo of me with Leo from a decade ago. I freeze, my eyes fixed on the rose-coloured carpet.

‘Elle?’

I turn to Cassie. ‘Can you look?’

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