Page 47 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘That’s generous but?—’

‘But,’ I say, interrupting Cassie, ‘none of that is an excuse for having poor manners. I know you’re on my side, Poppy, and I apologise.’

‘Accepted,’ she says, and I can’t help but admire how easily she forgives and, generally, how good-natured she is.

‘All that aside,’ says Cassie, ‘we’re meeting up with Leo tonight.’

‘No!’

‘I’m wearing my business manager hat, Elle. When we get back to London, I’ll pop my big sister hat back on and you can moan and whinge and we’ll down a bucket of cheap wine and a dozen packets of even cheaper chocolate biscuits. All right? But for now, we’re going over there’ – she points to where Leo and his hangers-on are swilling (expensive) wine – ‘and saying hello.’

It’s rare that Cassie puts me in my place. I think the last time was when I borrowed her razor to shave my initials into the (poor) cat when I was a pre-teen. It sobers me upimmediately, from both the fizz and my encounter with two fashion megastars.

‘Okay,’ I say.

‘Really?’ she asks and I laugh.

‘That whole speech and you’re surprised it worked?’

‘Well, yes.’ We share a gentle laugh and Poppy steps between us.

‘Now that’s sorted… Shall we?’ She nods towards Leo et al.

I down the rest of my fizz, set my empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and give Cassie and Poppy a thumbs up. Cass smirks at me, then leads the way. I fall into step and Poppy brings up the rear.

‘Lorenzo!’ says Cassie loudly as we approach. She holds out her hand. ‘Cassie Bliss, Bliss Designs.’

This is all for show, of course. Cassie has known Leo nearly as long as I have. I also don’t know that I’ve ever really seen Cassie in full business-manager mode before. She’s bold and confident and I can’t help admiring how savvily she’s navigating this event.

Leo leans in for a cheek kiss and says something in Cassie’s ear that makes her smile.

‘And, of course, you know my sister, Elle,’ she says, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear. She turns and waves me forward.

Leo edges towards me and I hold out my hand for him to shake, because that’s what you do, right? Shake hands with the only man you’ve ever loved when you meet him in a professional environment? But Leo is having none of that. He gently clasps my shoulders and leans in for a triple cheek kiss, as though we’re close friendsandParisian.

My disloyal heart hammers in my chest as his scent – the distinct Leo scent that’s been imprinted on my brain for a decade and a half – assaults my senses and I instantly feel light-headed.

‘Hey,’ he says, steadying me on my feet. ‘Are you okay?’

I nod, not trusting my voice. But I need to saysomething– what if he thinks he’s made me swoon? ‘I’m fine – too much fizz on an empty stomach,’ I lie.

He nods in understanding, flashing me a smile.Thatsmile. It’s even more potent than his scent and my heart hammers louder. Last time we were face to face, he came off as an arrogant wanker. But this bloke… he seems… well, likeLeo. It’s also hard to ignore that he’s sexy as hell, having thrown a camel-coloured, single-breasted linen sportscoat over that cowboy ensemble. I’ve never really had a thing for cowboys – until now.

‘Hey, I really loved your show – honestly, it was impressive,’ he says, his eyes boring into mine. My breath hitches and I succumb to the moment, my eyes locked on his and basking in his Leo-ness.

‘Thank you,’ I say, recovering. ‘Andyours… Just, wowser.’ I wish I could more eloquently explain how much it blew me away – the seamless collaboration, his successful foray into vegan leather – but I’m still tongue-tied. I’d like to imagine it’s because I’ve just met two of my idols, but deep down I know it’s because of him. Myriad emotions war inside me – nostalgia, tenderness… and, yes, attraction. Bucket loads of attraction. There’s also a smidge of hurt peeking out, but it’s outnumbered for the moment and I shush it.

‘Thank you kindly, ma’am,’ he says, laying on the Texan drawl and tipping an imaginary hat. ‘Who would have thought those wide-eyed kids from Kingston would end up here, hey?’

It’s jarring, his question.

‘I did,’ I say, partly baffled, partly miffed. ‘It’s been my dream since I was a little girl, remember?’

‘I do remember, yes,’ he says with a wink. ‘I was just, you know…?’

Oh, right – it was rhetorical.Idiot. But before I can respond, we’re interrupted.

‘Hi, you must be Elle.’

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