“Everyone, I have an announcement!” Mimi declares a little later after receiving a phone call, spinning in her chair so she can address the whole team. “I have just spoken to Sadie, the publicist heading up the Florence press trip this weekend, and she has had a last-minute drop-out and there is a place up for grabs. Thanksto a lovely piece I wrote about another of the hotels on her books recently, she has very kindly offered that space to someone atNarrative. We already have the fabulous Harper going on the trip, but now there is room for one more of our journalists. Before you all start showering me in compliments to get the spot—” she holds up her hands as a ripple of excitement spreads through the office “—I am going to make this as fair as possible by putting everyone’s name in a hat and pulling one out, and that person will get to go. If you aren’t free this weekend or don’t want to go, just let me know and I won’t put your name in the mix. End of announcement!”
As she swivels back round, I lean across my desk to berate her.
“Why did you offer it to the whole team?” I whisper crossly. “I should have some say in who goes with me on the trip.”
“Oh, really, Harper? You think you should decide instead of the travel editor?”
“If you pick Cosmo’s name out, then I’m not going.”
“Don’t be ridiculous; he won’t be able to go,” she assures me. “His weekends are jam-packed with golfing trips at the moment.”
“Don’t forget to put my name in, Mimi!” Cosmo calls out from his office, appearing in the doorway and hobbling forward. “How fortunate, the one weekend I don’t have any plans. And my foot will be healed by then, I’m certain.”
“Of course!” Mimi replies with a fixed smile.
When he retreats back to his desk, I narrow my eyes at her.
“I’m going tokillyou.”
The hours pass, and Ryan and I barely speak.
When Mimi loudly declares that the moment has come for her to pick a name, I’ve just sent a stiff email to my dad, confirming a date for our dinner in two weeks. I’m not in the best of moods, so if Mimi is about to announce that I’m heading off to Florence withCosmo Chambers-Smyth,I’m going to storm right out of here, go home, climb into bed, and not emerge for a month.
“The moment of truth,” Mimi says, relishing her position of power. She swirls her hand around the multiple scraps of paper filling a hat that she borrowed from the fashion cupboard and eventually selects one, holding it above her head for everyone to witness.
“We have a winner!” she declares, before carefully unfolding it. “And the person joining Harper in Florence this weekend will be…”
She takes a dramatic pause. I hold my breath and pray:Not Cosmo, not Cosmo, not Cosmo, anyone but Cos—
“Ryan!”
Oh, shit.
I’m not going to lie, it’s been a strange week.
Ryan and I havestillnot had a chance to have the talk we agreed to. We’ve both been so busy, and when I finally mustered the courage to suggest an after-work drink, we couldn’t seem to coordinate our diaries.
I’ve been trying not to read into it, but Ryan has also seemed even more tense and serious than usual.
Everyone in the office, of course, finds the Florence trip extremely amusing. As far as they are concerned, Ryan and I don’t like each other, so they’re all finding it hilarious that we’ll be alone on an intimate, luxury trip abroad.
Ryan’s quiet and pensive mood made me nervous to approach him about the Max Sjöberg article. I was still trying to figure out the best way of writing the piece together when he suggested we go to a meeting room one afternoon to discuss it.
Once the door was closed behind us, he pulled his chair close to examine what I’d already written on my laptop screen. I could hardly concentrate on a word he was saying, especiallywhen he shifted in his seat and our knees knocked together. He smelledso good,all clean with a hint of his woody cologne, not so much that was overpowering, but enough that it made me want to lean in closer. He was wearing the top few buttons of his blue shirt undone, and I had to force myself not to become fixated on the way his Adam’s apple moved as he spoke.
Dragging my eyes away from him and looking at the table instead seemed like a safe bet, but I was wrong there because he was resting his arms on it, and with his shirt sleeves rolled up, his strong forearms were on full display.
“This is really good,” he said after reading through the document. “Do you want to send it to me and I’ll add in some paragraphs about his childhood and his connection to Sweden? Then you can go over those and tweak them however you like.”
I tore my eyes away from his forearms and stammered, “Great. That sounds great. Perfect.”
He nodded, watching me. “All these years later, we’ll have our names together again in the byline.”
“Yeah. Who would have thought?”
I smiled and I could see him instantly relax, his expression softening. I was about to ask then and there if we could talk about what happened, but Cosmo barreled in and demanded that Ryan come to his office. The moment was stolen.
Then, that very evening, right before we went home for the day, we got in an argument. I promptly forgot that he smelled really good and had been so lovely about my writing, and I got angry at him for being a prick.
