Page 106 of The One That I Want

‘Sorry.’

‘And yes, her.’

‘Wow, a date with a hook-up…’ I say, feigning amazement.

‘A second hook-up with a hook-up,’ she clarifies.

I yawn again. ‘I’m too shattered to banter.’ I slip off my stool and signal to the bartender to bring the bill. ‘My shout.’

‘Uh, yeah. You drag me all the way into Central London for one drink, you’re buying.’

‘You came from Holborn,’ I say, giving her a pointed look.

She shrugs, tipping back her head to down the last of her drink, and I tap my phone to pay our bill. We leave the bar together, parting ways on the footpath with a hug and a promise that I’ll fill her in on my date with Ewan the moment it’s over.

I won’t, though. She can wait until atleastWednesday – especially if it turns into an overnighter.

Tuesday vanishes in a blur of meetings. I didn’t even make it down to The Daily Grind, so I was thrilled when my coffee-of-choice and another cronut showed up mid-morning. Although that may have had something to do with the text I sent Ewan:

Help! Drowning in meetings and having withdrawals.

As an aside, something they don’t tell you when you’re starting out in your career: the further you move up in the hierarchy, the more meetings you’re required to attend.

BeforeNouveau Lifelaunched, Anjali once mentioned she had twenty-seven hours of meetings on her calendar that week.Twenty-seven. At the time, I’d wondered when she was expected to get her work done. Now, I realise that ‘work’ – AKA editing an online magazine – is what I do between attending meetings and handling crises.

I just need to make sure the chore of attending meetings doesn’t take over what I love about being an editor.

But it all went well. By the end of the workday, HR had posted a job listing for an editorial assistant – I’ve moved Taj into Bex’s spot and am giving Lisa a chance to flex her (promising) writing skills as our new staff writer – and I’ve thoroughly reviewed the numbers for the second issue. The short version: they’re great andNouveau’s finance team is delighted.

I even chaired an editorial meeting in which we – and by ‘we’, I mean the three of us left after Bex’s departure – have tweaked what’s included in next month’s issue and reviewed our plans for future issues. Overall, I have a welcome sense of ‘it’s going to be all right’.

Now I’m standing in front of my wardrobe deciding what to wear on my date with Ewan.

I’m already showered – one of those ‘everything’ showers, in which I slathered, lathered, and scrubbed every part of my body, top to bottom, and denuded myself of hair in the applicableregions. I’ve dried my hair in loose waves, leaving it down and skimming my shoulders, and for my make-up, I’ve gone with NARS blush in ‘orgasm’, a smoky eye, and a glossy nude lip.

I look hot and I smell great.

And it may be presumptuous of me to have undergone my entire pre-sex-date routine – one I haven’t completed for so long, I’ve forgotten the last time it happened – but worse would benotanticipating the possibility of sex, being asked back to Ewan’s, andnothave undergone my entire pre-sex-date routine.

He hasn’t told me exactly where we’re going – just to meet him at the end of the Golden Jubilee Bridge closest to Embankment Tube station, with the promise that there won’t be ‘too much walking’.

This could mean a number of things. All I know for sure is that we’re going to dinner and when I looked up the location online, I found a dozen restaurants within a stone’s throw, including McDonald’s, which made me giggle. Imagine if we ended up there! Though I am partial to their French fries.

I flick through my wardrobe a second time, settling on navy linen, straight-leg trousers from the Bliss Designs petite collection and a polka-dot silk, sleeveless blouse. The look will go perfectly with my glittery Lorenzo heels.

I dress, then snap a photo for Tiggy, and send it to her with the caption:

Well?

She replies almost immediately, making me laugh out loud:

Scorching hot *flame emoji*

Another message arrives almost immediately following and I expect it to be Tiggy, weighing in with a GIF, but it’s Ewan:

Can’t wait to see you. Xxx

‘I can’t wait to see you either, Ewan,’ I say as I slip the essentials – lipstick, phone, and keys, plus a travel-sized toothbrush, a teeny tube of moisturiser, and a clean pair of knickers (don’t judge me) – into a navy clutch, then head off on date number three (sort of) with potential number two.

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