Just as Poppy says, ‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ the door opens and in walks a striking raven-haired woman.
‘Hello, I’m Paloma Martinez-Pérez,’ she says, shaking our hands in turn, ‘head of client relations. Thank you for coming in.’
I look over at Poppy, who seems momentarily startled. ‘Right, so, Paloma has been working with me and Nasrin to solve your predicament,’ she explains.
‘Yes,’ says Paloma as she sits at the head of the table, ‘and we’re thinking we should lean into the long-lost lovers angle, dip into your past, post some old photographs, do an interview or two… all of which will be to gain sympathy from the public before we promote your joint collection.’
With every strategy she presents, every word out of her mouth, my nervousness intensifies. The last thing I want is for our past relationship to become fodder for the press, especially the tabloids.
‘What do you thi—’
Two sharp knocks interrupt Paloma and a twenty-something woman with a bright-green fauxhawk pops her head in the door.
‘Yes?’ says Paloma.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but I think you’ll want to see this,’ she says. From her accent, I’d say she’s a Dubliner.
She enters the room and reaches for the remote in the centre of the table, pressing a button and turning towards a screen that descends from the ceiling. Seconds later, a television studio appears onscreen, a familiar pair of morning television hosts sitting upright on their custom sofa and looking at the camera.
‘And as promised,’ says Lydia Torrent, a plastic smile on her plastic face, both framed by her blonde helmet of hair, ‘we’re joined by supermodel, Franzia, who has an update on her love life. Welcome, Franzia.’
The image freezes. ‘Before we watch the interview,’ says the woman with the green fauxhawk, ‘just a heads up that Franzia has been all over socials for the past hour. Apparently, after she left Lorenzo’s shop, she live-streamed her Uber ride to the studio and is saying that you’ – she looks straight at me – ‘are an interloper in her engagement to you,’ she says, looking at Leo.
Leo and I exchange a worried look and I feel the swell of nausea. How likely is it that the agency’s plan has accounted for a supermodel going on a social media rampage?
‘Fair warning,’ she adds, ‘this could be brutal. Oh, sorry, I’m Mia. I work here. I do socials and stuff.’
I lift my hand, giving her a limp wave.
‘Ready?’ she asks, and I nod, even though I am far from ready. I feel the squeeze of Leo’s hand and Mia unfreezes the playback onscreen.
It’s a short interview – maybe five minutes – but by the end of it, I feel nauseous. And not the vaguely queasy, lightheaded kind, but the I-am-properly-going-to-vomit-right-now kind. I pop out of my seat, my hand clapped over my mouth. Poppy seems to grasp what’s happening, because she stands and says, ‘This way.’ She flings open the door and quickly ushers me across the office to the loo.
I just make it, retching bile into the bowl, as I’ve yet to eat anything since lunchtime yesterday. Poppy waits discreetly outside the cubicle – I didn’t even have time to close the door.
Eventually, the stomach spasms subside. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, flush the toilet, and stand slowly, my hands planted on the cubicle walls either side of me to steady myself.
When I exit the cubicle, Poppy is waiting for me, holding out a wad of paper towels. ‘You okay?’ she asks.
Not trusting my voice, I shake my head. How can I be okay when I have just been eviscerated on national television? Franzia did all but call me a whore and I’d bet there are a fair whack of people across Britain who now share that belief.
And why? For falling back in love with a man I never really stopped loving in the first place.
There was also the photograph. Somewhere in the middle of the interview, Franzia held up an A4-sized picture of me and Leo, half-dressed and enveloped in each other’s arms, his mouth – lips parted – a millimetre from my cheek. It was from the Nouveau shoot with Tally.
Leaked or stolen? I wondered in the moment. No matter. It had the desired impact – more evidence for Franzia’s brutal attack on my character, all in the name of furthering her own bloody career!
As if being uber wealthy, featured on every fashion magazine cover, and walking for all the major designers weren’t enough… Nope. Franzia appearing on Hello Britain, spouting her sob story, was simply to curry favour with Eternity Bride, the world’s most exclusive bridal fashion house. According to Leo, she’s ‘this close’ to being named their brand ambassador in a lucrative five-year contract.
Eternity Bride. Hah! Eternity Bridezilla, more like.
And there’s no way Nouveau is going to run that feature now, not after the bad press and certainly not after their photograph has been leaked six months ahead of publication.
At the sink, I rinse my mouth and dab my face with the paper towel. Looking at myself in the mirror, I’m shocked at how translucent my skin is. I look like I’ve seen a ghost. I look like I am a ghost.
There’s a soft tap at the bathroom door.
‘Elle?’
Oh god, it’s Leo.
‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ says Poppy, making her way to the door.
‘Wait.’
She does, regarding me thoughtfully.
‘I just…’
Her expression softens. ‘It’s a lot to take in, especially all at once,’ she says, understanding completely.
‘Yes.’
‘I can stay if you like?’
I’d love to take her up on it, but this is something I need to do on my own. In the fucking loo of all places.
‘That’s okay. But thank you.’
She reaches out and gives my arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll be right outside if you need me.’
‘Okay. And Poppy? Could you please call Cassie for me? I think I’m going to need my sister.’
‘I texted her earlier,’ she replies with a kind smile. ‘She’s on her way.’ It bolsters me somewhat, knowing that Cass is coming, especially as my heart is about to be shredded into a zillion pieces. Again.
Because it’s plainly evident that Leo and I can’t pursue a relationship – definitely not right now and possibly not ever. Not if we want to come out of this with our careers intact, or even this side of ‘in tatters’.
Poppy leaves and Leo enters, the space immediately feeling smaller now it’s filled with his larger-than-life presence.
‘Hey, are you okay?’
‘No,’ I answer honestly.
He comes to me in an instant, enfolding me in his arms. Leaning my head against his chest one last time, I listen to the rapid beat of his heart.
‘That was rough,’ he says, his voice burdened by the heft of what we’ve just seen.
This is going to be even rougher, I think.
‘Leo,’ I whisper hoarsely.
He releases me, his hands resting gently on my upper arms.
‘I don’t think I can do this,’ I say.
I know I can’t, but that’s so much harder to say out loud. We’ve only just found each other again.
‘Elle?’ Poppy is at the door. I huff out a sigh, frustrated that in the past twenty-four hours there has barely been enough time to breathe, let alone process a decade’s worth of feelings.
‘Yes?’ I call out.
‘Cassie’s here.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply noncommittally, because even though I want my sister here, I want her here for after – after the hearts are broken, when I need her to pick up the pieces.
‘Do you want me to go?’ Leo asks quietly.
‘No,’ I reply emphatically, my voice betraying my decision before I have a chance to stop it.
‘Elle?’ Poppy again.
‘Yes?’ I shout tetchily. Can’t she leave me be, even for a moment? Doesn’t she know what I’m trying to do in here? It’s hard enough without—
‘I think you need to hear this,’ she insists, slicing through my thoughts. ‘Leo too.’
He and I exchange a look.
‘Give us a minute,’ he calls. His hand lifts to my face. ‘Look, I know this is a shit show right now, but it’s our shit show, okay?’
A laugh bursts free.
‘Why is that funny?’ he asks, confusion and amusement melding on his face.
‘I have no idea,’ I reply. ‘This is just… bananas.’
‘It is fucked up,’ he says solemnly.
‘That too. Fucked up bananas.’
‘But, Elle, I mean it, I am not going anywhere. We’re in this together and we’ll work it out, okay?’
When I don’t reply right away, his gaze intensifies. I try to answer, but I can’t form the words – not when my head and my heart are locked in battle. The smart thing would be to walk away and do what I can to salvage my career. Same for Leo.
But my heart?
My heart wants Leo. It always has.
‘Hey,’ he says, ‘what’s going on in there?’ His eyes flick to my forehead, then meet mine again, and it’s clear he’s worried.
Come on, Elle, be smart. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are – Leo has too. You don’t want to lose that now.
I heave out a weary sigh. ‘I just don’t see how this can work.’
‘That’s what we have them for,’ he says, nodding towards the door. ‘It’s their job to help get us out of this mess.’
‘No, that’s— I mean us, Leo.’
‘What?’ He snorts out a sardonic laugh as if I’ve made a sick joke. A moment later, his expression morphs into realisation. ‘Wait, what?’ he whispers.
I swallow, wishing my throat weren’t so dry. ‘The only way we can come back from this professionally is to part ways – to say we’re sorry and end things – publicly. You know I’m right.’
‘Actually no, I don’t. Because you’re not right – not about this.’
‘Leo—’
‘No, I’ve told you, we’re not doing that. We not letting other people stand in the way of us being together – we’re not letting anything stand in our way. I did that once and I’ve regretted it ever since.’
‘Okay,’ I say, adamant that he just needs to see reason, ‘let’s say we do stay together and we both become fashion pariahs – we never live down the scandal – or, let’s be honest, I never live it down, because that’s the way these things usually go – and you end up resenting me for dragging you down or I end up resenting you because your career survives – or worse, thrives – and mine doesn’t. Either way, we end up resentful and miserable with our careers in the toilet. Is that what you want?’
By the time I’ve finished, I’m shouting, my voice reverberating off the tiled floor, but rather than cowering under the weight of my rant, Leo looks me in the eye and says, ‘I just want you.’
‘But… but…’ I splutter. ‘What if it all goes to shit? Like, properly to shit.’
‘But what if it doesn’t?’ he says, his eyes filled with love.
‘What if it doesn’t?’ I echo, my voice barely above a whisper.
What if it doesn’t?
‘Exactly.’ He moves closer. ‘I lost you once because I was a coward—’
‘You weren’t – you were young and just trying to do the right thing.’
‘I was a coward – young and good-intentioned, sure – but I still could have made better choices. Look, that’s water under the bridge now.’ He slips his arms around my waist and pulls me towards him, staring at me intensely. ‘I am never going to be that man again. I will never lose you again. I love you, Ellie. I always have.’
‘Really?’
Now he laughs, his eyes creasing at the corners. ‘Yes, really. I love you. And you and me together, we can face anything – whatever’s happening out there right now, whatever else comes our way. We’ve got this – together.’
I have no words to convey the rush of emotions engulfing me, so I stand on tiptoes and press my mouth to his.
It’s a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, and I’m so overcome, my eyes well up. Minutes ago, I was adamant we had to end things, and now… now he’s told me he loves me – in the loo. The most romantic moment of my life and we’re in the loo!
I start sniggering, only we’re still kissing, and Leo pulls away as I surrender to the laughter, enjoying how freeing it is.
‘Something you’d like to share?’ he asks, his brows raised.
I flap one hand about. ‘Look where we are right now.’
His eyes dart about.
‘Yeah, not the most romantic place for a declaration of love.’
‘No.’
‘I promise I’ll make it up to you,’ he says.
‘I’d like that.’
His gaze falls away and he suddenly seems shy. I stop laughing.
‘What?’ I ask softly, trailing my fingertips down his cheek.
‘It’s just… you know.’
‘Oh right, yes.’ I expel a sigh. ‘I suppose we need to find out what their plan is. Like you said, they’re professionals and it’s their job to help us out of this mess.’
He chuckles. ‘Well, yes, that, but I meant…’ He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, then releases it and I finally understand.
‘Oh, right – that!’
‘Yes, that.’
‘Mmm. So…’ I grin at him.
‘God, woman, now you’re just torturing me on purpose.’ He drops his hands from the small of my back and starts to pull away.
‘No, wait,’ I say, clasping his chin between my fingers. I look him square in the eye. ‘I love you too, Leo Jones.’
He sighs, his eyes closing for a moment, and when they open, they’re glossed with tears. I really cannot believe that minutes ago I was going to end things – what a muppet.
‘I just need to catch my breath for a sec,’ he says, holding me tightly. I lean my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat again, only this time, I’m not sad or afraid.
I’m in love.
I know that now. I am totally and utterly in love with Leo Jones and, even with everything else that’s going on, it’s so much sweeter the second time around.
