Page 81 of Shout Out To My Ex

ELLE

The cab stops next to the kerb and Leo taps his phone to pay the enormous fare. I get out and wait for him, looking up at the beautiful Soho shopfront. He’s soon standing beside me and I resist the urge to gush about how proud I am that he’s reached this level of success. Because I am. Beneath everything else, I always had faith in his talent and only ever wanted him to succeed – for both of us to.

‘Come on inside,’ he says. He enters first, and every staff member glances at the door, even those tending to customers, smiles alighting on their faces at the sight of Leo.

I look around, my eyes devouring every detail of the shop floor. And I thought theshopfrontwas incredible! In my wildest dreams, I’ve never imagined something this…swanky.

A woman of around fifty – uber stylish with the most glorious long blonde hair – crosses to us and she and Leo exchange air kisses.

‘Linda,’ he says, ‘meet my new design partner, Elle Bliss. Elle, this is Linda, my second-in-command here in London.’

She reaches past him, her hand extended, and I shake it.

‘Hello,’ I say.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she says with a clipped inner-London accent. ‘And he’s exaggerating. I essentially manage a shop.’

Leo shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Not even close.’

‘It’s true,’ Linda says to me. I suspect they’ve had similar exchanges before. ‘So, you’re here to see the workroom?’ she asks. ‘It’s extraordinary.’

‘Oh, I thought…’ I look to Leo, who’s now wearing a tight, uncomfortable smile.

‘Should we…?’ he asks, gesturing towards a staircase at the rear of the store. I go first, climbing the narrow staircase, and two storeys up – the middle floor is taken up by offices – I emerge into a workroom so modern and well-kitted out, it takes my breath away. I stop abruptly, taking it all in, and Leo bumps into the back of me.

‘Sorry,’ we mumble together.

I make my way between the workbenches towards the bank of sewing machines and overlockers, admiring the latest models. Slowly, I spin in wonder. Two of the walls are lined with pegboards, shelves, and cubbies filled with everything a fashion designer could want or need. The third is for pinning up inspiration boards and storyboarding – the visual depictions of the design process – and the fourth wall is floor-to-ceiling bolts of fabric.

I stray over to the twin dormer windows, lean against the exposed brick between them, and peer out at the street below us.

‘Not even close to the light you have in your workroom,’ he says.

‘You don’t need ambient light when you have those.’ My eyes dart towards the industrial lights overhead.

‘No, I guess not. Still?—’

‘Why did you lie to me?’ I ask, interrupting him.

‘About this?’ he asks, looking about.

‘Yes. Unless there are other lies you’ve told me.’

‘No, I…’ He sighs with frustration and takes off his cap, running a hand through his hair. His dark roots have started to grow out, giving him an even edgier, almost rock-star look.

Literally hat in hand, he faces me. ‘There’s so much to tell you… Now that we’re here, I don’t know where to start.’

‘Hah!’ I laugh dryly. ‘I feel the same way about all the questions I have.’

‘Why don’t you go first then?’

‘I already have and you haven’t answered me. You told me –andCassie – that your workroom was under construction. Why?’

He lifts his chin and looks me square in the eye. ‘Because ever since Paris, the paparazzi have set up shop’ – he points towards the windows – ‘right out there. And because I knew how it would look to them if I brought you here.’

‘Because you’re engaged to Franzia and us being seen together could end up being a PR nightmare.’

He bites his bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. ‘Yes.’

---