Page 60 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘That we’d better not mess this up.’

‘Agreed. But at least Saskia’s letting us proceed.’

‘On a tight leash.’

‘Well, obviously.’ I am trying to lift my spirits, but I’ve chosen the wrong colleague to debrief with. Nasrin is a glass-half-empty person.

‘You ready for your meeting?’ She means the meeting with theNouveaueditor this afternoon, a woman called Bex.

‘I think so. Freya did a good job of putting my notes into some sort of order. Hopefully, I won’t look like a total amateur.’

Nas goes to leave but I stop her.

‘Wait, I just… Why am Ianxious?’

‘About meeting the editor?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Because it’s an important piece of an important case,’ she states.

‘But aren’t all cases important?’ I ask.

She laughs. ‘From the client’s perspective, sure, but not all cases have the potential to bring down the agency.’

‘That’s a little extreme,’ I say, even though we discussed this exact concern before the staff meeting. I, like many people, tend to contradict myself when I’m stressed.

‘You heard Saskia. And in a case that involves two pseudo-celebs and a supermodel, we need to be extra careful. The engagement is already all over socials and the media and we’re… well,us. If this gets any messier, there’s every chance the agency will get dragged through the mu?—’

‘No, I get it. You’re right.’

This is where Nasrin would typically gloat. But today, she just pats me on the arm and leaves.

Yikes, we may be in worse trouble than I thought.

My phone chimes. It could be any number of people connected to this case, none of whom I want to hear from until I’ve wrapped up the meeting atNouveau.

But when I check my phone, it’s Tristan.

Saffron settling in.

He’s added a photo. On his lap, looking very comfortable and delighted with the hand rubbing under her chin, is our new cat.Iknewhe’d fall in love with her on sight. Why else would a busy investment banker take a day off to ensure his ‘sweet little girl’ wasn’t left alone on her first day?

I send a quick reply:

Lucky girl. Miss you both. Px

I head towards my desk and my phone chimes again. At this rate, Tristan’s going to become one of those people whose photo feed is 90 per cent kitty pics. But it’s not Tristan – it’s Cassie. With a message that could mean a dozen different things:

Can we meet? Code red.

I’m assuming ‘code red’ means the same in the UK as it does in Australia – as in, ‘everything’s gone to shit’. I reply, telling her to come into the agency any time after 2p.m., as I’ll be back from my meeting by then – hopefully with good enough news to stave off some of the gone-to-shit-ness of this case.

I’ve had complex cases before, even ones where I’ve skirted the boundaries of what’s permitted in the pursuit of an HEA – or happily ever after – but this… This is turning into one of those cases in which I’ll be spinning plates and juggling while doing cartwheels. Wearing roller-skates.

If I can pull this off, I will be matchmaker of the year!

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