Page 89 of Shout Out To My Ex

It’s when we get to the end of the studio that the consternation between us, all the embarrassment of being reduced to ‘mystery blonde’, and all the heartache at (probably) loving a man I can’t have, fall away. Because, while I was offgalivanting around London, then wallowing in my flat, my team were working. In fact, they were absolutely smashing it.

Zara, Prue, and Gaz have taken our sketches and arranged them on inspiration boards, which are pinned up along the wall. To each, they’ve added colour swatches, motifs, and other images and graphics to begin fleshing out the vision for the collection, and for several designs, they’ve even added fabric swatches.

Their incredible efforts have given us a massive head start on our storyboarding.

‘Oh, you brilliant, brilliant loves,’ I say, awash with pride.

‘Holy shit, you guys,’ says Leo, his fingers lightly trailing over the nearest inspiration board. He looks over and meets my eye and this smile,thisis Leo. ‘Your team…’ He shakes his head with joyful disbelief, then turns back to them. ‘You guys are incredible. The way you’ve understood our vision’ – his eyes meet mine again for a microsecond and I remind myself I’m still cross with him for multiple reasons, even though my thumping heart says otherwise – ‘you’re amazing,’ he tells them.

They beam under his praise but who wouldn’t?I’mbeaming; I do have an amazing team and this is exactly why I hired them. They are brilliant and creative (and not traitors at all).

New note to self for the post-season celebration: change the spa booking to the deluxe package. Surely Cassie won’t mind when I show her what they’ve come up with.

‘So,’ says my collaborator, ‘should we get to work?’

I can do this, I tell myself. I can be a professional and ‘get to work’ – I just need to channel my very together and highly professional sister.

WhatwouldCassie do in this situation? I wonder. Well, she’d never be in this situation, as she’s never been in love.

Gah! These thoughts are not helpful.

I look up at Leo and smile brightly – fake it till you make it, right? – and say, ‘Absolutely.’

Poppy

‘So, that’s where we’re at,’ I say, casting my eyes around the conference room table.

The silence is deafening, which isn’t surprising. I’ve just revealed that a client of our (purposefully covert) matchmaking agency is all over the tabloids, adding a layer of complexity to an already complex case.

Of course, some of my colleagues knew before the meeting – George, who devours tabloids daily over breakfast (no judgement), Mia, who watches closely for any mention of the agency in the press or social media, and Nasrin.

Saskia and Paloma are at opposite ends of the table, as always, and I look between them to gauge their reactions. Paloma looks like she’s just sucked on a lemon, but Saskia is her usual stoic self. She finally breaks into a smile, one that says, ‘Everything has gone to shit but we will sort it out.’ A ‘hopeful pragmatist’ she calls herself, and I’m witnessing that ethos in action right now.

She turns to Mia, who is tapping away on a tablet, her brows knitted together.

‘Mia, any sign that the press has made the connection?’

Mia shakes her head. ‘Nothing in my daily sweep this morning,’ she says in her Irish lilt, ‘and it looks like nothing has popped up since.’ She looks up with a satisfied smile, then turns to me. ‘You mentioned that Lorenzo has a publicist?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Ser Robbins out of New York. And that’s S-E-R.’

Mia nods, then goes back to her tablet.

‘Are we working with Robbins directly?’ Paloma asks. In this instance, ‘directly’ means that Ser has been read in and is aware of the aim to reunite Leo and Elle. She hasn’t – we rarely do that.

‘No, not directly,’ I reply. ‘Our only contact with her was to set up the initial meeting between our client and the love interest, and that was handled by Cassie, the sister.’

‘But you believe that Robbins is behind the engagement to the supermodel?’ asks Saskia.

‘I’m almost positive. Marie is still working on getting irrefutable proof?—’

‘That the engagement is fake, a publicity stunt?’ Paloma interjects.

‘Yes.’

Her expression sours again, but I’ve worked with Paloma long enough to know this is her ‘thinking face’. Before joining the agency, she was an executive in a multi-national PR company, so perhaps she’s untangling this snag from that perspective.

‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’ Saskia asks Paloma. ‘Read her in?’

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