Page 6 of Never Date a Celebrity

Imogen laughed again, then pulled them both into a hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

“We’re not dead,” Piper said into her shoulder.

“Yet,” Niamh added. “And neither are you. Live a little.”

When they let go, Imogen backed towards the door with a sigh.

“Please think about it?” Niamh asked again, popping out her bottom lip.

“I will,” Imogen replied automatically.

Then she frowned. Because she found that there was a small possibility she meant it. She turned and left the bathroom before either of them could pull her up on it.

On the stairs back to the fifth floor, images from the phone kept returning uninvited. The village. The cliffs. Space. Quiet. A place where nobody knew anything about her.

This was ridiculous. She wasn’t really considering it, was she? She had a life here. A job. A home. A routine she trusted.

And yet, by the time she reached the landing, the word no didn’t feel nearly as certain as it had ten minutes earlier.

Imogen slipped back onto the fifth floor and tried not to act like her vision for her future hadn’t just been totally turned on its head. Phones still rang. Keyboards still clattered. Someone laughed too loudly near the printer. Clover Insurance carried on exactly as it always had, indifferent to the fact that, because of one surprising conversation, Imogen no longer seemed to fit inside it.

She reached her desk and sat down slowly. Everything was where she had left it. Her favourite mug. Her leather-bound notebook. Her colour-coded to-do list. The plant Piper insisted was thriving despite all evidence to the contrary. The framed quote her mum had given her about strength and finding it within herself. Usually, the sight of it all felt homey. Her little desk.

Her computer screen had gone dark. Imogen moved the mouse, and it flickered to life, revealing the spreadsheet she had been intending to work on before her unexpected bathroom rendezvous. Rows of figures glared back at her and Imogen stared at the numbers.

Then, against her will, she saw those damn pastel houses instead. That circular village square. Green hills folding into the cliffs. The old stone well outside a pub with chipped paint and possibilities. A place where nobody knew her face from a breakup video—hopefully. And most importantly, she pictured her two best friends who needed her. Who wanted her.

She blinked hard and looked back at the spreadsheet.

For a few minutes she managed to continue with work. She highlighted cells D1-12 in yellow. How thrilling.

Across the office, two women from underwriting glanced in her direction, then bent their heads together. One of them smirked. Maybe it had nothing to do with her. Maybe. But the old familiar heat climbed her neck anyway. The same mix of shame and anger and helplessness she hated herself for still feeling.

Niamh’s voice came back to her. You’re comfortable here. That’s different.

Imogen looked around at the office she had once been proud to belong to. The grey carpet. The fluorescent lights. The low hum of computers. The ridiculously bright peach paint on the walls.

Her chest tightened. Was this really it? Was this the life she was trying so hard to protect?

A tiny flat she’d outgrown and a job she was good at but no longer excited by. Safety and comfort dressed up as happiness.

Her phone buzzed again.

Are you ready to say yes yet? Piper asked.

Then again.

Ignore her. Just think about it. No pressure, Niamh added.

Imogen looked at their names on the screen and felt something warm twist in her chest. These were her people. The two people who had stood beside her through everything. Through Chelsea. Through the fallout. Through nights she couldn’t stop crying and mornings she pretended she was fine. And now they were offering her a way out of the life that for some reason she kept insisting was enough.

Her pulse quickened. This was absurd. Irresponsible. Wildly unlike her. She opened the message thread anyway.

Closed it. Opened it again. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

If she said yes, everything would change. If she said no…nothing would. And suddenly that felt far more terrifying.

Imogen drew one steadying breath.