Page 131 of The One That I Want

Yes, I am showing up to work in leggings and a T-shirt, sans make-up and sporting a hair-don’t rather than a hairdo.

I arrive before most people, but the few that are in the office give me odd looks as I pass. Roger from accounting says, ‘Hi, Greta,’ so cheerfully, it’s clear he’s overcompensating for my appearance.

I don’t care.

When I get to my office, I proceed with my usual routine – log onto my laptop, check my calendar for the day, read emails… I could definitely go for a coffee, but the thought of showing up at The Daily Grind sours my already fragile stomach.

‘Focus on work, Greta.’ It’s the sole reason I’m here, after all – to distract myself.

I could have called in sick – Anjali would have been okay with it – but what would Idoall day? Lie about my flat, moaning? I doubt even bingeing old seasons ofBritain’s Best Bakerswould be enough to distract me.

As I trawl through my inbox, an email subject line catches my eye: ‘APOLOGY’, written in all caps. It’s from an unknown emailaddress, one that doesn’t include even part of a person’s name, making it impossible to identify who it’s from.

‘Oh no, what if it’s Ewan?’ I whisper.

We’ve never exchanged email addresses – no need as we’ve always messaged each other – so itcouldbe from him.

APOLOGY

Maybe he’s responding tomyapology. Maybehe’sapologising, although I don’t know what for. My heart starts hammering and my breath becomes raspy and shallow. An email. If he wanted to accept my apology and start again, wouldn’t he ask to meet in person?

An email can’t be good.

My mouse pointer hovers directly over it, but I can’t make myself click on it.

Instead, I slam my laptop shut and dig my phone out of my handbag to make a call.

‘It is literally the crack of dawn,’ says a sleepy Tiggy.

‘You’re too old to use the word “literally” non-literally,’ I quip, and she chuckles.

‘What’s up?’ she asks. I hear the rustle of bed clothes – though with Tiggy, they could be hers or someone else’s.

‘I need you to get dressed and come toNouveau.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, right now. Immediately, if not sooner.’

She groans.

‘Where are you? Are you at home?’ I ask, doing a quick calculation. Even if she left her flat in the next five minutes, she still wouldn’t be here inside an hour.

‘Nope,’ she says, raising my hopes about her getting here sooner.

‘Are you close, then?’ I prod. Can she not sense the urgency in my voice?

‘I’m in Soho.’ I hear a muffled voice, then a loud yawn, then, ‘Be there in thirty.’ Even from Soho, that’s optimistic, but I’ll take it.

‘Thank you, Tig.’

‘Wait, why am I coming?’ she asks.

‘I dropped off the letter and now there’s an email in my inbox from an unknown sender titled “Apology”. I can’t read it without you here. What if it’s Ewan telling me it’s over – for good?’

‘Be there as soon as I can.’

I set down my phone.

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