Page 19 of The One That I Want

The truth: after Anjali sprang Poppy and this (ridiculous) assignment on me Friday morning, I made a point of avoiding her for the rest of the day. Same again today. In fact, I spent several hours working from the coffee shop instead of in my office just to steer clear of her. I’m grasping onto a sliver of hope that she’ll soon realise how unsuitable this concept is forNouveau Life.

‘Well, regardless of the angle, we’re recommending that you write anonymously,’ says George.

‘Oh, really?’ I look to Poppy, and she nods in agreement.

‘That will allow you to be more candid in the articles, don’t you think?’ she asks. ‘And it’s more respectful to the potential matches if they remain anonymous too.’

The roaring ramps up. It also occurs to me that if I want to tell Poppy and George I’m onto Anjali and her obvious plan to marry me off, now would be the time. But would that be showing my hand too soon? Is there any advantage in keeping itto myself, at least for now? Without a clear answer either way, that’s what I decide to do: keep mum.

‘What do you think?’ Poppy asks.

‘Oh, yes, that makes sense. At the top of each article, we could state that the writer – and the subjects – have been anonymised to protect the guilty.’

Right as I say the word ‘guilty’, George says, ‘Innocent,’ and his eyes widen.

‘I was only joking,’ I say with a laugh.

He laughs along with me – though I imagine he’s just being polite.

God, I really need to get this meeting back on track – or, on any track really. I’ve been on the back foot since I got here. I need to take charge and lay out how this will go. Otherwise, I’ll be marching down the aisle, dressed in white, and married off to some suitable-on-paper bloke before I can say ‘romance is dead’.

Poppy is watching me with an inscrutable look on her face. ‘Greta, perhaps we should start again?’

Bloody hell, was she reading my mind?

She and George exchange a loaded glance, then she turns back to me. ‘Look, we know this is an unusual assignment, and that you’re not wholly comfortable with it.’

Understatement of the millennia.

‘That said, we’d like to make it as painless – and as fun – as possible. For whatever reason, Anjali has her heart set on these articles and she thinks you’re the perfect person to write them.’

The ‘whatever reason’ is that Anjali is playing matchmaker. She’s obviously convinced that I’m sad and lonely and (very possibly) in need of a proper shag. That last part may be true, but I donotwant my boss thinking of me that way – or spendinganytime pondering my nethers.

Poppy leaps out of her seat. ‘Wait here for a sec,’ she says, disappearing out the door.

‘Is mustard really your favourite colour?’ George asks, his mouth twitching at the corners.

I laugh. ‘No, sorry, my bestie and I were having a laugh on Friday night, and I forgot to change it. Mustard is actually myleastfavourite colour. I’m always baffled when I see peoplewearingit. How about you?’

‘Totes agree. It’s right up there with camouflage and leopard print – or, god forbid, both at the same time.’ He screws up his face in distaste, making me laugh again. ‘I mean, justwhy?’

We snigger together and, for the first time since I arrived, I start to relax.

‘Do you love working atNouveau?’ he asks leaning forward, his eyes locked on mine.

‘I really do,’ I reply.

‘Ahh… professional goals,’ he says with a sigh.

‘Wait, really? Surely you love working here?’ I ask, the journalist in me wading into the conversation. ‘It must be extremely satisfying, helping people find love?’

‘No, I do. I love it. ButNouveau… I mean, it’s the mothership.’

For the first time, I take in his thoughtfully put-together, highly fashionable look. Periwinkle-blue, single-breasted blazer, sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, revealing pink paisley lining, and a deeper-pink dress shirt with sky-blue collar and cuffs – also rolled up. I silently chastise myself for being so in my head I didn’t realise I’m in the presence of a truefashionisto.

‘Well,’ I say brightly. His head cocks with interest. ‘Now you have an in – to the mothership, I mean – and you’re welcome any time.’

His eyebrows shoot up and his jaw drops. A moment later, he breaks into a broad grin. ‘You’ve just solidified your place as my number-one girl crush.’

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