Page 85 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

3. finding a small property for my pop-up! It’s not mine until April, but I’m SO excited.

4. my new vibrator. Bought it after another horrible hookup. No more fights over condoms, or selfish guy behavior, just orgasmic bliss! Does everything but make me breakfast.

5. my gym session with Xavi. Found out he has a sister and loves country music. Who knew?

6. not thinking about Tarquin for the past 2 days until…

7. my Facetime call with Simon. We got all caught up. Wish I could visit, see Sarah. It’s only been 6 months, but Wilton Way, Somerset House…Tarquin—feels like a lifetime ago.

From: Tarquin Balfour

To: Nick Balfour

Sent: Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Subject: GET YOUR BLOODY PHONE FIXED!

How long does it take to get a screen fixed? For fuck’s sake, Nico! I call bollocks. You just don’t want Mum texting you on hols.

I just got back from Orkney this afternoon. Baby Poppy is a belter! All fingers & toes accounted for, plus she’s got a quiff of red hair! Fiona is doing well and came home from hospital on Sunday. Rupes celebrated by purchasing a new bull (I knew you’d like that!), and Ava made me take her to Sinclair’s for ice cream.

Life has been off the charts. The church redevelopment is storming forward, so London’s latest performance space will be hosting all your luvvie friends in no time. And I’ve got three dates, courtesy of that swanky matchmaker. I’m so chuffed! I’m meeting a Turner Prize winner (!), a foodie/author, and an Olympic rower, so I’ve pulled out all the stops date-wise. I’ve booked a cocktails/art exhibit at the Tate, a swish table at The Duck & Waffle (yep, that sinful spot 40 floors above the city), and a kayaking tour along the canals. Hey, maybe one of these ladies will be your future sis-in-law! See, Nick, I AM trying. Moving on from Leia has been tougher than I thought, but I’ve made my bed… Onwards & upwards.

Speaking of, I’ve stopped seeing Dex on a weekly basis. We both agree I’m ready. I’ve learned enough CBT to deal on the daily and have a better handle on things. If I need a top-up, I’ll give him a shout. And before you ask, no, I still haven’t told Mum or Dad about therapy, so please keep your gob shut, all right? Don’t make me regret telling you.

No doubt, you’re having a smashing time on your Bahamas bender. Text me when you’ve got your phone back, you tosser.

Cheers, Tarq

Nineteen

LEIA

New York City, three weeks later, Thursday, August 15, 2019

Pavements sizzled, sweltering tourists searched for shade, and ice cream sellers in Central Park rejoiced as the hazy lazy days of August descended on New York City. Summer wasn’t about to loosen its sweaty grip on the Big Apple any time soon, and the heatwave was making everyone, including Leia, a little hot under the collar.

Why haven’t we moved? She lowered the window of her Uber, and an airless wall of blistering heat engulfed the air-conditioned sedan. Gross! Leia’s nose scrunched. I HATE this weather. Stealing a peek at the snarled uptown traffic, she kept her phone pressed to her ear as Sarah, energized by her breezy Cornish getaway with Jordan, merrily rambled on about their adventures.

“Ley, we saw everything! The beach they used for Nampara Cove, the mines at Botallack. It was a bit of a bumpy ride—my boobs still haven’t recovered—but it was so worth it.”

Leia’s car crept forward, barely making it across the intersection before halting again. Dammit! She closed her window and twirled her fingers through her fiery red hair worn high and wavy in a flirty ponytail. I have no choice. I’ll have to hotfoot it if I want to style Shantelle in time for her Lost for Breath premiere.

“Saz, hold on a sec?” Lowering her phone, she leaned toward the driver. “I’ll hop out here—thanks.” Tote bulging with her stylist kit on her shoulder, phone and garment bags in hand, she begrudgingly traded the cool comfort of the sedan for the suffocating humidity and blazing sun beating down on the northeast corner of Third Avenue and East 48th Street.

God, it’s stifling. Three summers in, and I’m still not used to this. No wonder all the old money leaves town at this time of year.

She nudged the car door closed with her elbow and started walking, the delicate lace pleats of her outfit’s ivory skirt billowing with each hurried step. The handmade midi dress with its figure-hugging bodice, high neck, and sleeveless silhouette was elegant yet summery, ready for her first public outing as a designer and stylist to one of Hollywood’s hottest rising stars.

Okay, no biggie. She took a deep breath, ignoring the intense heat prickling her skin. It’s just the biggest night of my career so far! Let’s CRUSH this!

Picking up speed, careful not to crease Shantelle’s gown or the backup dress she’d brought along just in case, Leia slipped back into Sarah’s holiday bliss. “So, you saw all the locations for Poldark! I wish I could’ve gone! I bet the sea air was refreshing, unlike this stinky sweat-fest we’re having here.”

“It was breathtaking, Ley. Gave me serious wanderlust.”

Four city workers, t-shirts plastered to their chests from heat and exertion, looked up from a broken manhole, the cause of Third Avenue’s early-afternoon gridlock, and gave Leia’s long, bare legs appreciative stares as she passed, but their leers went unnoticed.

“See any Ross Poldark lookalikes shirtless and scything wheat?” Leia smiled, her ivory flats whisking her past overheated office workers lumbering back to work after lunch.