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He shrugged. ‘Might happen.’
She didn’t know how, because she wouldn’t be putting herself out there anytime soon, and she hadn’t seen Rufus do anything that looked like agenting since she’d arrived, nearly two days ago. Oh, that heady time when she’d been powered by fury and full of fight, ready to confront her culprits, make one of them crumble and do something heroic to rectify things. Then she would have had the headspace to work out what to do about this terrifying final love task. The task in which she was expected to miraculously let go of her fears and perform a grand gesture of love, like something from a cheesy romcom. Such gestures usually involved shouting from balconies or declarations in stadiums or running through the snow in your underwear. Well, she’d eaten too many chips for that last one.
The problem was that none of her suspected trolls had seemed that guilty-looking. And now she was out of ideas and her thoughts were spiralling. What if she could never find this person? What if she did find them, and another one popped up in their place, like a giant game of whack-a-mole? Would things always be like this?
‘Maybe I should withdraw from living my life so publicly. I’m bringing danger to myself and the people I care about.’
‘Calm down, love,’ said Rufus, snatching away her bag of fries. ‘You’re not exactly Cameron Diaz. Though if we’re ever going to drag you up the ranks a bit, you should probably brush your hair.’ He nodded in the direction of the spare room where she’d been sleeping, amid various dusty fitness contraptions and a weird collection of plastic celebrity dolls.
‘Maybe I should take myself and my coaching business offline and advertise in the old-fashioned way. Did you know I got flyers printed? It didn’t go so badly.’
‘You have a face for TV.’ He squinted at her. ‘Or at least radio. And how are you going to make me any moolah if you aren’t out and about, taking on new gigs?’
‘I just don’t think I’m cut out for—’
‘Are you going to let an internet troll ruin your career? One that I’ve just resurrected! It might be about to take off. But not if you keep wearing that lousy tracksuit.’ He shuddered. ‘It’s so last year.’
She covered her face with her hands. ‘Oh God.’
Now she was taking pep talks from Rufus the bloody doofus. As much as it was sweet of him to put her up like this when she was down on her luck, he was hardly anyone’s life role model.
And worse than everything she’d dared to say out loud was the thing that was truly eating her.
What if it was love she wasn’t cut out for?
Maybe she was no good at this heart-on-your-sleeve stuff. She’d tried to put herself out there as a more open version of herself and look what it had caused. Somebody hated her for it and was determined to wreck her life and the lives of the people she cherished. She was a disaster. Her trying to love and be loved was a catastrophe. The people of Hartglove were better off without her. She let out a huge sob, snotty tears dribbling onto Rufus’s sofa. He threw a box of tissues at her.
‘This is beneath my paygrade. And not to sound like your mum, but you could probably do with a scrub.’ He pulled another face. ‘So are you going to bin off the rest of this love app gig? Should I let them know, and see if we can still salvage our last payment?’
She blew her nose loudly and sat up. ‘Undecided. But I am going to use the bathroom.’
Wasn’t it when you showered that the best ideas came?
