Chapter Thirty-Six
London
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“I’m looking at the wrong purchase order,” I repeated into the phone.
“I need one including the line item for the Paulson account.” Delphine, my deskmate, looked over at me with an eye-roll and I shot one back.
“Can you please send the correct one by end of day?” The grunt in finance muttered something about speaking to their supervisor and hung up.
I slammed my phone down and leaned back, tugging at my hair.
“Seems like someone needs a cup of tea,” Delphine said.
“I’d murder one,” I said gratefully.
“All righty.” Delphine bustled off to the kitchen; she always walked quicker when she knew a caffeinated beverage was in the offing.
I was drinking far too many coffees and teas at the minute, but then again, working for an insurance broker was not challenging me in the way I needed.
When I’d quit my job at Temper, I’d picked up freelance jobs, but only a few days’ work here and there, not enough to cover my bills.
Dan had stepped in and offered me a temp job in his office, which, out of concern for my bank account, I’d accepted.
My supervisor was flexible, so I was able to take on last-minute freelance film gigs here and there, which had been great for my CV.
I missed New York deeply. I Facetimed Michelle and Riley most weeks and they’d kept me up to date; RJ’s script had been passed over by Janice, but he hadn’t taken it to VLV Ent.
Sadie had pitched it to , who had come through with a stellar deal that RJ had been unable to refuse.
Riley had finally called time on her crush on Noah and was taking steps to rebuild her trust in him as a friend, but it was slow going and I didn’t blame her.
Vivian had finally left RJF and on a whim, when I’d arrived back in London, I’d called the agent who represented Twin Roses.
They’d shared that someone had now optioned the novel, but they couldn’t say who.
VLV Ent were clearly pushing ahead, and I had no idea how I could fight back.
All I could do was trawl the internet for clues and so far there had been no press releases or social media announcements.
According to the VLV Ent Instagram, Vivian was a professional partier, snapping herself at Cannes, Locarno and Toronto festivals looking like a supermodel with no Ralf in sight.
I wondered – not too frequently – where their fucked-up love story would end.
In fiery misery, I hoped, but a girl could only dream.
“Rough day?” Dan appeared at my cubicle, stifling a yawn.
“I’ve had better,” I said. “How’s the first week back at work?”
“I hate it.” Dan had become a father three weeks ago to my goddaughter, Avery Rose Katherine, who’d arrived earlier than expected in the dead of night with a head full of hair and lungs ready for screaming.
She was perfect. “I’m missing out on so much,” he went on.
“This morning, she blew the best spit bubble I’ve ever seen.
” He shoved his phone in my face and sure enough, there was a photo of Avery doing exactly that.
“She looks proud,” I remarked, my heart swelling with love. Avery looked just like her mum. “As she should.”
“Are you coming over this weekend?” he asked.
They’d moved to the house in Hertford shortly before Avery’s birth and it was still something of a building site, but I’d enjoyed spending the past few weekends there painting and assembling furniture or, more recently, stealing cuddles with Avery.
It helped distract me from the relentless longing that burned like a physical wound, as well as the distinct lack of progress professionally.
“I’m moving,” I reminded him. The lease on the Archway flat was up and I had put a deposit down on a house-share in Wood Green.
It wasn’t the most picturesque of streets and the house was a little cramped, but the other tenant was a traveling saleswoman who favored a quiet life, which suited me fine.
“Of course.” He nodded. “Do you want any help? I can bring the car down.”
“No!” I said. “You have enough going on.”
“Lucie.” He tilted his head. “You’ve done so much for Bex and me, honestly. Let me lift some boxes or something.”
“It’s in the job description as best friend and godmother,” I assured him.
“Well, if you’re sure,” he said. “Anyway, how are you finding working with Delphine?”
“Oh, she’s a boss,” I said. “If ever I need a Werther’s Original, she’s there in a jiffy.”
“In all seriousness,” Dan said. “You seem to be doing really well. There are perm opportunities here for you, if you want them. And the money is great.”
He had a point there. I’d not been at the company long, but I was already earning a good percentage more than I’d earned working for Lin, with regular hours too.
Unfortunately, the work just didn’t satisfy me.
I regularly found myself drifting off or lingering at the tea point, imagining what might have been if things in New York had gone differently. “Thanks,” I said.
Dan’s eyes softened. “Have you spoken to him?”
“Not for a week or two. We decided low contact.”
“And how’s that going?”
“It’s not easy.” There were nights when I couldn’t sleep, when my body craved him like a drug, and I’d reach for the phone so I could hear him tell me in that deep, sexy drawl exactly what he was going to do to me the next time we met.
But it wasn’t just a physical yearning; it was chemical, it was spiritual, it was everything, because it was love, and it was simultaneously the most wonderful thing I’d ever experienced and the greatest torture I’d ever known.
But I suspected Dan didn’t want to hear about that.
I settled with “He’s doing great though.
” Elliot’s latest project with Stoof been a trippy, dreamy music video for none other than Taylor Swift and I’d watched it break the internet with a full heart.
“Why don’t you just go to LA?” Dan asked, frustratedly. “I don’t get it.”
“Elliot spent his whole adult life sacrificing his career to be around for his mum,” I explained for possibly the billionth time, fingering the bracelet I never took off.
“Plus, RJ held him back so much … This is Elliot’s time, he has to give this everything he’s got, not worry about looking after me.
Besides, I really need to find some way to rebuild my career. ”
Delphine arrived back at my desk, buzzing with excitement. “There’s someone in reception for you,” she told me, her eyes wide behind her glasses.
“For me?” I asked, more bothered by Delphine’s lack of tea. “Are you sure?” I wasn’t important enough to get visitors.
“Yes!” She clapped her hands. “And you’ll never guess who.”
“Delphine, have you doubled up on your heart medication again?” I said.
“It’s an American,” Delphine added gleefully.
“What?” My heart thudded painfully. “Are you … ?” I looked at Dan. “Oh my God, is it him?”
Dan gestured towards reception. “Find out!”
“How do I look?” I asked them.
“Sensational,” Delphine cooed.
“Okay, thanks.” I made my way towards reception, my legs wobbling so much I thought I was going to collapse.
Why would Elliot come here after what we agreed?
But the knowledge that he was now mere feet away had me bursting into a run, flying past the beige, quiet cubicles, the serious faces peering up at me from behind the desks.
I burst through the reception doors, rounded the desk to see— “Oh.”
Sol Rodrigues rose from the waiting area sofa, oblivious to the adoring stares from all three receptionists.
“Sol?” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. I hovered, feet away.
“You are a hard woman to track down, Lucie Clifton.” She tottered over to me on sky-high studded stilettos.
“I literally emailed you about this job when I got it,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “It’s just such a great way to greet someone, don’t you think?”
“What a lovely surprise!” I hugged her. We’d kept in touch sporadically over the past few months and she was fully up to date on the chaos that was my life. “But what are you doing … here?”
“Oh, Vogue flew me over,” she said with a comical preen. “Modern style icons spread for the November issue.”
“No, I mean, what are you doing at Summers & Till?”
“Oh!” Sol beamed and gripped my shoulders. “I’m doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“My company. Whisper Productions.” She squeezed me. “It’s happening.”
“No way!” I wrapped her in another hug. “Congratulations!”
“I have the structure, the funding, an office space and I am building a kickass team.” She ticked off each element. “I even have my first movie in development.”
“Sol, I am so happy for you!” I looked at the clock. It was almost 4 p.m. “You know, if you wanted to celebrate, I can probably sneak out in—”
“Lucita.” The sternness of her voice stopped me in my tracks. “Don’t you want to know what my first project is?”
“Oh.” I wondered why she was looking at me so strangely. “Of course, I’d love to.”
“Our first movie will be an adaptation of the iconic romantic saga, Twin Roses.”
Had I heard her correctly? “Twi— Sol, VLV pitched that to the studio.”
“I know they did,” she said, baring perfect white teeth. “But they shouldn’t have.”
“Obviously, but how is it that you’re now doing this?” It felt like the whole world was askew, tilting under my feet.
“Because those dummies at VLV or RJF don’t have the option,” she said. “I do.”
“You?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “When you told me what that snake Ralf did, I was so mad for you. Women gotta work so hard in this industry just to keep up, while a disproportionate number of mediocre men seem to be allowed to fail upwards and get pats on the back for their efforts. I read your pitch and it. Is. Brilliant.” She punctuated the last three words with a jab of her finger.
“Let me get this straight, Ralf went to all that effort to steal my pitch, but he didn’t even fork out for the option?”
“Can you believe?” Sol rolled her eyes. “When I said goodbye to you at the airport, I was emailing my lawyer to see if we could secure the option. Mainly out of spite to that jerk, but also because I believed in you.” She grabbed my hand.
“I believe in you still. It took a few months to close the deal, but I got it.”
I didn’t know what to say. “Sol, this is incredible.”
“No, what’s incredible is the offer I have for you,” Sol went on. “I want you to come and work for me as a development producer.”
I stared at her. “Are you for real?”
“Bitch, I don’t joke about business.” She giggled. “And before you say anything about lack of experience, blah blah blah, I don’t care. You got the goods, you’re qualified.”
“Sol …” My head was swimming. “Is this real? Because it feels like a dream.”
“Oh, it’s real.” She let her eyes drift around the office. “So. What’s your notice period on this place?”