Page 80 of The One That I Want

Maybe it’s not too late to ask Poppy to fit me with those romantic training wheels. I feel as if I’m careening off the path straight towards a giant tree.

‘Er, no, not today,’ I say lightly. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I was going to be cheeky and ask you to bring me back a cronut, but I’ll pop down myself. You want anything?’

‘Er…’

She laughs. ‘It’s just a coffee, Greta,’ she teases.

‘Right. Sorry – I’m a little distracted,’ I say.

‘That’s okay.’

‘I just want the second issue to be even better than the first,’ I add, outright lying. Not sure why I felt the need to say that. Nor am I happy with how easily they come to me now – the lies.

‘Ofcourse– me too. So… anything from the coffee shop?’ Bex asks again.

‘Oh, sorry!’ I shake my head at myself. ‘Thanks, but I’m all right.’

‘Okay,’ she says and with a baffled smile, she heads towards the lifts.

If I keep behaving like this, Tiggy won’t be the only one calling 999 to report a body snatching.

I need advice from my matchmaker.

‘This place is great,’ says Poppy, sliding onto the barstool next to mine at Gin Palace.

‘It’s my favourite for after-work drinks,’ I reply. ‘I got here a little early to snap up seats at the bar. Otherwise…’

I look about, nodding towards the dozen or so patrons who are standing.

‘Oh, good call. So, what do you recommend?’ Poppy asks. She picks up the cocktail menu and scans it.

‘This is a Royal Garden,’ I reply, holding up my cocktail. ‘Elderflower gin, prosecco…’

‘Oh, yum.’ When the bartender approaches, she says, ‘I’ll have the same as my friend, please.’

Friend. She could have said ‘colleague’ or ‘client’, but she called me her friend. I suppose the lines have become a little blurry over the past few weeks. Coincidentally, this is what I want to talk to her about – blurred lines.

We chit-chat about nothing of consequence while we wait for her cocktail and when it arrives, she holds up her glass.

‘To “Dating Horrors of London”,’ she toasts.

‘Cheers,’ I reply.

Poppy takes a sip of her Royal Garden. ‘Oh, that is good.’ She licks her lips, then sets her glass down. ‘Now, why are we having drinks on a Friday night?’ she asks. ‘I’m guessing it’s not so you can show off your fave cocktail bar?’

‘No,’ I say with a smile. Poppy’s always so forthright, something I especially value while I’ve been navigating my recent challenges.

‘I’m in a bit of a pickle,’ I tell her. She leans in, her eyes trained on mine, inviting me to say more. ‘Do you remember Ewan, the man from the coffee nearNouveau?’

‘I remember. What about him?’

‘Well, first off, he actuallyownsThe Daily Grind.’ Predictably, she seems dumbfounded. ‘I know, I felt the same way. But I went in on Monday and he was working there, which is how I found out. And because we see each other most days and have become quite friendly, I really thought it would have come up before. I don’t think he was deliberately hiding it from me, but…’

‘It’s a little strange he didn’t tell you but you’re probably right that there’s nothing nefarious in it.’

Bolstered by Poppy’s understanding, I take a sip of my cocktail, then move onto the real reason I’ve asked to see her.

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