Page 98 of The One That I Want

‘Will youstoptossing things about?’ I ask, leaning down to retrieve it from the floor. Tiggy may be the clumsiest, bull-in-a-china-shop person I know.

I set the notepad on my lap and read through the list again. Only the last two names are of any consequence, especially now my column’s been killed: Harrison and Ewan.

‘Can you please hand me a pen?’ She does and I draw a line through ‘Harrison’.

‘So, it’s official then?’ she asks.

‘Thisdoesn’t make it official,’ I say, tapping on the page with the pen, ‘but telling Poppy does. Harrison is no longer a potential match.’

‘I’m sure he’ll make someone a wonderful husband,’ Tiggy says dryly.

‘Yes, someoneelse,’ I say, my eyes fixed firmly on ‘Ewan – Greta’s hot friend’.

‘Have you heard from him?’

I’m only half listening. ‘Who?’

‘Harrison.’

‘We exchanged messages this morning – we’re on the same page. “Nice to meet you but…” Why?’

‘Just curious. Also, you haven’t replied to Ewan yet.’

‘Oh, shit!’ I reach for my phone and cradle it in my lap. ‘So, what do I say?’

Tiggy shakes her head at me and lifts her gaze to the ceiling as she sighs wearily.

‘Okay, it’s fine. I’ve got it.’

Dinner Tuesday sounds just woederful.

I hold it up to show Tiggy. ‘How about this?’

‘Well, you spelled “wonderful” –woederful? That doesn’t bode well – and it’s also kind of… meh.’

I correct the spelling. ‘Okay, what then?’

‘How about something less Jane Austen?’

‘All right…’

I type:

I’d love to have dinner with you. Tuesday?

‘This?’

‘Love?You’dloveto have dinner with him? Gimme.’ She wags her fingers at me again and I hand over the phone.

‘I’m trusting you…’ I warn, not wholly trusting her.

Tiggy grins – full-on Cheshire-cat grin – and I instantly regret giving her my phone. She takes a slug of wine, then puts down the glass so she can type with two thumbs, her head tilting from side to side as she composes what must be the longest message in the history of the world.

‘There. And send…’

‘Oh god.’ Now I take a slug of wine. That pizza had better arrive soon or I’ll be drunk before I know it, which, piled on top of frazzled, could get ugly.

‘Want me to read it to you?’ she asks, her mouth twitching with delight.

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