Page 13 of The One That I Want

‘Er, thereisone more thing, Greta,’ says Anjali. Her eyes dart towards Poppy again.

‘You might want to take a seat for this,’ Poppy adds.

I look between them and slowly sit, more confused than I’ve been at any other time in this conversation.

And then, Poppy completely and utterly blows my mind. And not in a good way.

4

GRETA

‘I am literally dying right now.’

Tiggy – best friend since nursery school, partner-in-crime, giver of tough love when needed, and frequent overnight inhabitant of my sofa after too much wine – rolls her eyes at me.

‘Babes, you’re too old to be using “literally” non-literally,’ she replies with a smirk.

‘Fair, but how would you react if your boss feltsosorry for you, she employed a matchmaker to set you up on dates?’

‘I don’t have a boss. I work for myself.’ Tiggy is a (brilliant) freelance graphic designer.

‘Semantics,’ I retort.

‘Regardless, it doesn’t mean she feels sorry for you. It’s just an assignment.’

‘Hah! Oh look,’ I say, pointing out the window, ‘a flying pig.’

Tiggy chuckles.

‘God, I’mmortified.’

‘Clearly. You’ve necked that wine way faster than usual.’ She leans across the coffee table to top me up.

‘Thank you,’ I say without thinking – my mind is still chewing on my dilemma. ‘I was completely blindsided. It wasbad enough thinking that Anjali had brought Poppy on as a staff writer without consulting me. Then they dropped therealbombshell. And am I really expected to believe Anjali was just wandering about Richmond and happened upon a secret matchmaking agency, then thought, “Oh, I’ve just had a brilliant idea for a series of articles forNouveau Life”? My arse, she did.’

I gulp down more wine. Tiggy’s right, I’m drinking this way too fast. Not only am I risking a monster hangover tomorrow, but it’s a decent bottle and I should be savouring it. I get up, setting the glass on the coffee table, and wander over to the window to look out at Parkland Walk. No pigs, flying or otherwise, just people walking, some solo, some with dogs. There’s also a handful of joggers. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen a jogger with a smile on their face – they’re always grimacing.

I take in a deep breath and exhale so forcefully, condensation forms on the window.

When I glance back at Tiggy, she’s eyeing me curiously. ‘So, youlegithave to go on dates for work?’ she asks.

‘Yep. I’m like Kate Hudson’s character inHow to Lose a Guy.’

‘Andie,’ she states matter-of-factly. Tiggy is a walking encyclopaedia of romcoms, which is ironic considering she’s practically anti-love.

‘Andie, exactly. And how sad is that? I may as well start writing listicles.’

‘You’re not going to start writing listicles. It’sNouveau, notWoman’s Weekly. Besides, if it’s really about the articles, isn’t it something Bex could do?’

‘Right? Bex isfarbetter suited to this assignment than I am. She’s unattached, she’s twenty-six, she’s not running an entire online magazine…’

‘Well, why not suggest that instead?’

‘Because I already did, and Anjali insisted that it be me. That’s why I’m onto her,’ I say, my eyes narrowing. ‘I let slip how I want to fall in love, and she concocts this writing assignment.Thenshe pretends one has nothing to do with the other. She even made up some bunk about studies and news reports. “People with careers are prioritising love and relationships now more than ever, Greta. We need to do a deep dive into this important topic – our readers want to know how to navigate the dating landscape. And what a perfect follow-up to the dating apps piece.” Hah! If those were theactualreasons, I could write it as an investigative series –withoutgoing on dates!’

‘You do a shitty impression of her, you know.’

‘Thanks,’ I say sarcastically. My indignation starts to fizzle out and I meet Tiggy’s eye. ‘A bloodymatchmaker, Tig. I just wish I hadn’t opened up to her the way I did. Sostupidof me – we don’t have that type of relationship.’

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