denim skirt that hits mid-thigh and a sunshine-yellow jumper. I put on some simple hoop earrings and chose to wear my wedge espadrilles to add a bit of height. It’s a little cool out this evening, so I’ll pop my white trench coat over the top before I go.
An excited thrill rushes through me as I realise I’m now minutes away from seeing Xander.
“Wow, don’t you look ravishing for a decorating lesson?” Isla says, eyeing me from the sofa as I descend the narrow staircase. “Usually, you wear jeans and a T-shirt.” A sharp look of suspicion passes over her delicate face. “Why is that?”
I freeze at the bottom step. I hate lying to Isla. In fact, I’ve never lied to her about anything. Hell, she even knows I had sex with a cod out of water—what screams more open book than that?
Except you can’t be an open book about a date with the Prince of Wales.
I swallow hard. I’d trust Isla with my life. I want to trust her with this, too. But any slip, even something like accidentally replying in the wrong message box on Connectivity, would ruin everything.
And prove to Xander he cannot trust me.
No matter how much I adore Isla, I can’t risk that.
Not when I haven’t even had a chance to see what we could be.
“Poppy? What’s wrong?” Isla asks.
I shake my head and take the final step into the living room. I stare into the light-blue eyes of my best friend and pray I can pull off the second poker face of my life so I can tell this lie and have her believe it.
“I think I’m in a rut,” I say, spinning a version of reality that is based in some truth. “I need to take some more chances. Like have a life outside of the bakery.” I head to the coat rack and retrieve my trench coat.
“Well, I’ll give a hallelujah to that, but what brought this about? Wait a minute. Poppy! Is there a man involved?”
I put on my coat and button it. “Perhaps.”
“Poppy! How could you not tell me?” Isla declares, popping off the sofa and rushing over to me. “This is monumental. You have been on the shelf gathering dust for ages! He must be incredible for you to even consider looking at him, let alone maybe even fancying him!”
I stare at Isla. Her beautiful face is lit up in excitement. Oh, if she knew who it was—I would be kneeling over her trying to revive her, that’s what. After she finished laughing her head off and declaring I told the worst jokes ever, because ha-ha-ha Prince Alexander ha-ha-ha! Right!
“I don’t want to jinx it, so I’m not saying much, but he’s a friend of a client I met with, and he bumped into me. We chatted a bit, and he’s rather lovely,” I say, tap-dancing on the edges of the truth.
Isla combs her fingers through her short, bobbed blonde hair. “What’s his name?”
“Kevin,” I blurt out.
Oh, God, this feels terrible. But at least my huge information gaps are strung together with threads of reality.
“Kevin. Hmm. Are you seeing Kevin tonight?”
“Yes, he asked for a private decorating lesson,” I say, moving to our tiny kitchen to retrieve the box of biscuits and supplies I have ready to go for this evening.
“Ha! Decorating! Let’s see what he wants to decorate by the end of the evening,” Isla says, following me.
“No,” I say, my tomato face returning in full force. “It’s not like that.”
Yet, I think, my blush once again headed towards my scalp.
“You’re actually blushing. You’ve thought about shagging this Kevin, haven’t you?”
“No!” I practically shout.
Isla roars with laughter. “Oh, that’s not only a yes, but that’s a you have fantasised about it yes.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t pull off a denial lie of this magnitude.
“Ah! You do want to have sex again, thank God,” Isla cries in delight. “I promise, third time is a charm.” She pauses. “Do you have condoms?”
“Isla! I’m not jumping into bed with him tonight, I barely know him,” I protest.
“You should carry some. Sometimes, your desires can overrule your head. And that’s not always a bad thing, you know.”
I shoot her a look. Isla has had nothing but lovely boyfriends and great sex in her life. Her current boyfriend, Jeremy, is a pilot and the type who sends her flowers all the time when he’s travelling. And, from the cries of passion I hear when he’s in town, I know he’s rather …