I nod without turning around, desperately willing my face to reset itself. ‘Oh, aye. Just fine-tuning the wording for?—’
‘Theodora.’ Her tone softens with concern.
‘Charlotte.’ I spin slowly, and her grin dies.
‘Fuck.’ She kicks the door shut behind her. ‘What happened?’
‘Allergies.’ My voice breaks. ‘And a new moisturiser.’
Charlie crouches, peering up at me. Gold hoops glint. ‘Try again.’
‘Period cramps?’
‘Bollocks. We’re kind of synced since we’ve started working together, and I’m not due for another two weeks.’ She grips my shoulders. ‘Theo.’
The harsh light spits its artificial glow into every corner of the cluttered storeroom.
A stifled hiccup escapes. ‘It’s nothing.’
Before I can fabricate another lie, she’s crouched in front of me, arms wrapping around my shoulders. The dam breaks again, and I’m sobbing into pristine, champagne-coloured silk.
‘I’m ruining your blouse,’ I mumble against her torso between sobs.
‘I don’t give a shit.’ She pulls back. ‘Talk to me. Now.’
I take a shuddering breath. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be real.’
‘What wasn’t?’ She hands me a tissue from her purse, one of those fancy ones that smell of lavender.
‘The relationship. Finn. Us. It was meant to be a rebrand strategy and a business arrangement.’
‘Oh.’ She sits on a nearby box of trainers, her expression unfolding from confusion to understanding. ‘And it became something else.’
‘Everything else.’ The words tumble out, raw and unfiltered. ‘He’s not who I thought he was, Charlie. Not even close.’
‘So who is he then?’
I fiddle with the crumpled tissue. ‘He’s funny and kind and attentive. Completely lacking in self-preservation. He notices things. How I take my tea, when I’m overthinking. He’s a complete disaster at loading a dishwasher, but he’ll spend ten minutes making sure Elvis has the perfect blanket nest.’
‘Wait, what?’ Charlie lifts her eyebrows. ‘Your cat gremlin hates everyone.’
‘I know! But not him. And he’s so…’ I draw a useless circle in the air, trying to sum him up, ‘genuine. Even when he’s being an absolute fanny, he’s honest about it.’
‘Unlike some people I know.’ She pins me with a look that’s half affection, half indictment.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’re the queen of compartmentalisation, Theo. You’ve got thicker walls than Edinburgh Castle.’
I wince. ‘That’s not?—’
‘Fair? Maybe not. True? Dead on. Takes one to know one.’ She squeezes my knee. ‘So what happened?’
‘Marseille happened. This partnership happened.’ I wipe fresh tears from my cheeks. ‘And I told him to go because it was the right move for his career. And for the agency.’
‘Hmm.’ Charlie’s hum contains multitudes of judgement.
‘Don’t “hmm” me like that. I was being professional.’
