Chapter Twenty-nine
Twenty-nine
A week later and I still felt gutted. All I could think about was Leo.
His eyes, his smile, his stupid jokes. And how he’d somehow managed to stitch me up again, in plain sight.
I was furious and humiliated, but also incredibly sad.
I’d let him get in my head and maybe my heart, just a tiny bit, and he’d broken it and left.
My one saving grace was that he didn’t know I knew.
Player’s gonna play. I wanted to block him on everything and lock him away in my WhatsApp prison but I didn’t want him to know I cared that much.
No, it was better to ghost and ignore. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me, but it was impossible when it was all so one-sided.
The only way to kick him in the metaphorical goolies was to win the pitch and wipe that overconfident smirk off his face.
He was so sure they had it in the bag. Offering me a job? ! The cheeky bastard.
‘Talk me through where you’re up to,’ Heidi said, mascara smudges under both eyes. We’d been working round the clock and were all exhausted.
Scott, Natalya and Andy stood behind the boardroom table ready to present the ideas.
‘I’ve got the pitch deck,’ I said, pulling it up on the big screen. ‘I’ve kept it clean and simple and we’ve only got an hour, so let’s get onto the creative as quickly as possible.’
‘Agreed,’ Heidi said.
Natalya cleared her throat. She had been creative director at Northstar PR for nearly ten years and knew the Excalibur account inside out. If there’d been space for more than two on the cruise, she’d have come with us.
‘Who knows if past knowledge is a blessing or a curse, but that’s what we have on our side so let’s use it to our advantage,’ she said. ‘We’ve mapped out the key audiences using age, income and attitude to holidays, and then visualised the potential cruiser personas.’
She pulled up a photo of me, retouched to look ten years younger, wearing pantaloons and a crop top and we all cracked up.
‘Love it, guys. Where do I sign?’
‘This is Kat as a young Gen Z,’ Natalya said. ‘Obviously.’
Heidi nodded. ‘I like that as a way in. Keeps it light and fun, but personal. Good thinking.’
‘Then we ask – what does Kat want from her holiday?’
Thinking about myself in the third person was strangely confronting.
What did I want from my holiday? A highlights reel of the cruise flashed through my mind: playing water volleyball with enthusiastic strangers (before I got hit in the face), whale watching at sunset and tobogganing through the streets of Madeira.
Beautifully cooked food and every type of cuisine.
The fake anniversary dinner with Leo under the stars…
I don’t know about twenty-something Kat but the two weeks I’d had on Esmeralda had been close to perfect for the real me – accommodation aside.
I felt my breath catch in my throat as all those magical moments crashed together.
Younger Kat couldn’t have asked for more.
‘Kat, you can then answer directly. Run through the demands of Gen Z to set up the creative ideas.’
‘Brilliant. Some theatre to reel them in.’
‘We’ve used a selection of the photos from the trip,’ Andy said, laying them out on the table blown up to poster size.
The group shot of the five of us in Madeira was full of colour and joy.
It was a textbook holiday snap – we couldn’t have looked happier.
And it encapsulated what cruising was all about.
The five of us hadn’t known each other before we set sail, but we’d bonded over too much food, plenty of booze and a bizarre selection of activities.
And now we had a shared experience that we’d remember forever.
‘These are perfect,’ I said, studying the images. ‘Moments we could never have imagined before we set sail,’ I said, as I looked at it.
‘Correct,’ Heidi said, snapping her fingers. ‘Gen Z want adventure, to live life to the max, to get full bang for their buck and to connect. More than anything they crave connection. We all do.’
‘We can invite stories from people who have met on cruises and had hilarious, unusual and bizarre encounters, using unimaginable moments as the hashtag,’ Scott added. ‘Then use the best stories to pitch for the mags and rags and get a word-of-mouth campaign going.’
There was a knock on the boardroom door, and an enormous bunch of pink peonies walked in, shielding our receptionist. The top of her pixie cut was just about visible, bobbing along behind them.
‘Wow!!!’ Heidi said, her tired eyes shining. ‘They… are… stunning! Sam is getting serious husband points; he can be such a sweetheart sometimes. Put them in my office, Jules. Thanks, love.’
‘Erm…’ She set them down on the table. ‘These are addressed to Kat… marked as urgent and sent by courier.’
I was flabbergasted. I’d never had flowers delivered to work in my life. ‘For me? Are you sure?’
‘Oh,’ Heidi said, turning her back. ‘Someone’s a dark horse. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.’
I laughed. ‘You know me… anyone and everyone.’ I grabbed the card and opened it.
What happened?
Where did you go?
Call me.
L
x
‘Anyone we know?’ Heidi asked, trying to nosy over my shoulder as I stuffed it back in the envelope.
‘My mum,’ I said, my heart racing. There were at least thirty stems in the bunch. It wasn’t a mum-bought bouquet by anyone’s standards, and none of them believed me.
Heidi raised a sceptical eyebrow before turning back to the presenter. ‘Right, well let’s get back to it. Chop, chop. I like where you’re up to. Put the creative into the presentation and let’s regroup and run through it in an hour. See how – and more importantly if – it works.’
The peonies were open and fluffy and weighed a tonne as I carried them back to my desk.
I’d never even seen a bouquet as big as this before; they were almost cartoonish.
Was this what they called love bombing? Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but smile.
They looked like little pink pompoms, cheering me on as I got back to work.
Brooke had probably had a similar bunch delivered. Buy one get one free.
What happened? Exactly my question, Leo! You tell me! I’d been ignoring his messages ever since we’d gone our separate ways, but I decided to have a quick check through.
Tuesday: You were so annoyed when we said goodbye. I don’t understand. Can we meet?
Wednesday: Obviously not. Can we at least talk then?
Thursday: Obviously not.
Friday: Are you getting my messages? I’ve just realised they’re all unread.
Saturday: Have you lost your phone?
No, Leo, I haven’t lost my phone. I hadn’t been getting his messages, but eventually he’d got mine as the daily texts had stopped. But now this. The old brG – big romantic gesture – if that’s what this was.
I had to acknowledge it.
Me: Thanks for the flowers. Nothing’s happened my side – how about you?
Leo: There you are! I’ve been worried. You disappeared. What’s going on?
Me: Working hard on the pitch.
Leo: Yeah, us too. Back to business as usual then, is it?
Typical narcissist, making me feel guilty for breaking it off when he knew exactly what he’d done.
I didn’t mind pretending to be the bad guy if that’s what had to happen.
I’d seen him leaving Brooke’s suite with my own eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He didn’t deserve another second of my consideration. I one-word replied.
Me: Yep.
Then deleted him.