“It’s a quick turnaround. One proposal straight to three when you’re just out of the starting gate again. Don’t try to sprint from the off. Take your time. You don’t need the pressure. You’ve taken enough pressure already.”
I keep my smile at full beam, resolute, because I’m determined. I filled up my calendar for a reason last night, high in the aftermath of User 2644 or not. I’m not succumbing to another bout of nerves bordering on depression. I’ve had enough of that shit.
“I want to do this,” I say again. “Really, Josh. I want to do this.”
“Ok, that’s fine. I’m happy to rearrange Tottenham. My client will rebook for next week, I’m sure.”
I shake my head in horror, because interrupting his schedule is the last thing I want.
“No, no, no! Tiff’s phone will be on, or Eb’s, or Bodica’s. Hell, even Mum and Dad’s, if I need someone.”
Josh shakes his head right back at me.
“Tiff, Eb and Bodica might all be busy on proposals themselves, and your parents are in Australia.”
I shrug. “I can check with the girls, see if their nights are booked up.”
“Or you could rest up a bit. Take it steady.”
I put down my cutlery, because I’m not sinking back into the comfort of nothingness. It would be so easy to fall back into the world ofCake Bakerand chocolate chip cookies.
“Josh, listen to me. Seriously. Now I’ve had a taste of what’s been missing, I’m not giving it up. No way. I’ve had way too much time out already.”
We have an unspoken standoff, eye to eye.
And then he nods. My amazing boyfriend nods.
“Yeah, ok. I get it, and I applaud you. Really, Ells, you’re a superstar who deserves her life back. I’ll be supporting you everystep of the way, even if it does mean I’m crapping myself with my phone on silent while I’m busy.” He smirks. “I can live with that if it makes you happy.”
“Webothdeserve our lives back,” I reach over to squeeze his hand. “This is just step one.”
He squeezes mine back.
“Step one, three, seven hundred and eighty-five, it doesn’t matter. You do what makes you happy, whatever road you want to take. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader.”
God, I love that man.
We finish up our bacon and eggs, and I’m clearing our plates when Josh starts scrolling through his phone at the table. His eyebrows are pitted, concentrating, and I get the wriggling worm of nerves in my guts as he scrolls.
I take a breath and force myself to ask the question.
“Anything I should know about? Anything… scary?”
I’m relieved as all fuck when he grins.
“Nah. Just thousands of people arguing over whether Katie and Connor make a good couple, or whether they’re a couple of coke snorting, fame hungry cunts. I haven’t seen your name mentioned once so far. Not in any of the fresh posts.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“Not once? Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Check for yourself.”
I take his phone and scroll back through the feed he’s just been looking at. He’s right. There is a load of Connor-related bitching amongst the latest political crisis posts, but every scrap of trolling I see is all about Katie and their antics together. For once, there’s nothing about me.
It’s insane when I think back to the early days after Cannes. When everyone was trying to find me, to talk to me, to bitch about me, or make deals for gossip. There were nasty memes all over social media, andwe love you, Connorthreads of supportfor such abitchleaving him. Now, just like that, the rumours about me have been buried under all the fresh drama.
“Wow,” I say. “It’s crazy.”
