Page 4 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘No, I meant you look overheated. Are you sunburnt?’ She peers at me even more closely and I step around her.

‘Just a little pink,’ I say, miffed. ‘It was overcast on our last day, and I didn’t realise I’d been in the sun too long.’ It was a rookie mistake for an Aussie who grew up sun-smart, slip, slop, and slapping her way through childhood – but I don’t mention that.

At my desk, I relieve myself of my handbag and retrieve my laptop from the locked bottom drawer. Thankfully, someone had the presence of mind to water my peace lily and its waxy leaves greet me cheerily.

‘Poppy?’

‘Yes, George?’

‘Drinks at five.’ He punctuates this mandate with a wagging finger, then wanders towards the kitchen.

‘Yes, George, got it. Five o’clock. And put the kettle on?’ I call after him. He lifts a thumb up into the air. I start every workday with a pot-for-one of perfectly brewed tea.

Freya squeezes my arm. ‘So good to have you back,’ she says before heading back to her desk.

Nasrin sidles over and perches on the edge of mine.

‘What can I do for you?’ I ask, giving her at least half of my attention as I boot up my laptop for the first time in nearlya fortnight. I can’t believe that only two days ago I was in the Maldives. On honeymoon! With Tristan!

It was our first proper holiday together, as I’m not counting our quick visit to Tasmania to spend Christmas with Mum and Dad. That was a whirlwind trip so Tristan could meet my parents, and I spent half of it enduring the cringey stories Mum told about my childhood –withphotographic evidence – and the other half rescuing Tristan from Dad’s deep dive into the minutiae of farming apples. It was fun and lovely but very muchnota holiday – especially as any time Tristan attempted to seduce me, I shooed him off. I was not having sex with my parents in the next room!

‘You’re lost in thought,’ says Nasrin, bang on. ‘I’ll come back in five.’

Left to my own devices, my mind wanders further. Even now, months later, it still feels surreal when I consider the magnitude of marrying the client I was supposed match with a fake wife.

With three potential wives – one man-eating disaster, one desperate-to-be-a-mother near-miss, and one Goldilocks-style just-right match – it turned out that Tristan had fallen in love with me! And despite striving for professional distance (and failing) and with every nerve in my body telling me to steer clear (while simultaneously yearning for him), I fell in love right back.

And why wouldn’t I? Tristan is caring, brilliant, funny,andridiculously handsome. Just picturing him walking about our waterfront bungalow naked, which he did at least once a day while we were on honeymoon, elicits a sigh.

‘Are you finished faffing yet?’ Nasrin asks, returning to her perch on my desk.

I abandon the not-suitable-for-work thoughts of my husband, lean back in my office chair, and smile benevolently. ‘Go for it.’ Nas may be impatient (and at times, mildly irritating),but I am still riding a post-honeymoon high, and nothing can faze me today.

‘I have something for you – a case,’ she says.

Oh. I had hoped to take a day or two to get back into the rhythm of work, but there’s something in her tone that captures my interest.

‘What is it?’

‘Long-lost love – can’t forget him, can’t get over him, can’t find him.’

‘Ooh, that sounds interesting,’ I say, leaning forward. ‘Go on.’

‘Client’s coming in tomorrow and?—’

‘Wait, are you asking for a second or…’

She huffs out a frustrated sigh. ‘No, I wish. But I’m knee-deep in my parent-trap case and I need you to take the lead on this one. She’s a referral from a friend, so I don’t want to turn her down.’

‘Ahh.’

‘Please,’ she adds as an afterthought.

‘I’ll happily consider taking the case.’

She nods. ‘Brill. Thanks, Poppy.’

Nasrin seems to be ignoring the ‘consider’ part of my offer, as she’s acting like I’ve already said yes. I choose my next words carefully. ‘And if I do take the case, how about you’remysecond?’

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