Page 46 of The One That I Want

‘I told you, Evie,’ says Olivia gently.

Evie expels a long breath then looks me in the eye. ‘He’s probably already sleeping around, isn’t he?’

‘Probably,’ I reply.

‘Bastard,’ she whispers, tears welling up.

‘Agreed.’

She smiles wanly.

‘How about this? We pick a date, I kick Tristan out and you, me, and Olivia have a girls’ night in?’

‘Really?’ she asks, swiping at a tear that’s escaped.

‘Sure. I can even invite Shaz and Lauren and Jacinda if you like. We can tell you our war stories.’

‘War stories?’ she asks, clearly confused.

‘Our dating disasters,’ I reply, thinking of Greta and how she’s putting herself in the firing line for the greater good.

‘Oh, okay. Thanks, Poppy.’

I draw her into a hug, which she returns, and Olivia leaps up and joins in.

‘Should I be joining in?’ Tristan calls loudly from the kitchen. He never realises how loudly he talks when his earbuds are in.

I untangle myself from the hug and call back, ‘Secret women’s business, Tris.’

‘Gotcha. More wine then?’

‘Yes, please, but I’ll come and get it,’ I reply.

‘You’re so lucky, Poppy,’ says Evie softly. ‘I want what you and Tristan have.’

‘Well, step one is to give Tyler the Prick the flick,’ I tell her, hoping the quip lands as intended.

To my relief, she bursts out laughing. ‘Tyler the Prick gets the flick,’ she says through her laughter. ‘I love it.’

I’m glad I could be of help. Now she just has to follow through.

Greta

I’m flipping through the latest issue ofPanache– something I do every month to stay abreast of what our closest competitor is publishing – and immediately after ‘Trend Tracker’ is a brand-new column that turns my blood to ice: Heart-to-Heart Hub, a romantic advice column by morning talk show regular, LolaLovegrove, who has made a career of penning self-help books, mostly about romance.

I stare down at the page disbelievingly. ‘What? Buthow?’ I ask myself aloud.

I quickly scan each reader question, then Lola Lovegrove’s advice. Not only is the concept eerily similar to Poppy’s column, but so is the execution, right down to the format and tone. The only distinguishing feature is that Poppy is a psychologist, not a TV personality who purports to be an expert in all things romance.

‘Whatrottenluck.’

I look up, checking the time on my laptop. TheNouveau Lifestaff meeting starts in eighteen minutes, but Anjali needs to see this. I scoop up the magazine and beeline to her office. I see through the glass wall that she’s on the phone, but I slip inside and take a seat. She eyes me curiously and mouths, ‘Everything all right?’ I shake my head and she wraps up the call.

‘What’s happened?’ she asks.

I openPanacheto the offending page and slide it across her desk. ‘It’s this.’

I watch her face closely as she reads the page, her expression morphing from curious to unsettled to riled in moments.

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