Page 56 of Date with Destiny

I expect the same thing will happen with Zach when he meets someone.

I would say the one weird thing is that neither of us ever mention our love lives. Or, in my case, disastrous romantic bin-fire. But we’ve been working together for months now and at a certain point it’s too late to suddenly go, ‘So hey, do you even have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Casual friend with benefits? Tinder addiction?’

He glances over at me now, raising his eyebrows as Celeste tells us about Photoshopping out the reality star’s nipples, and I look away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

‘I’m excited to see the place,’ he says as we reach the car, climbing in and immediately blasting the heaters onto max.

‘You will love it!’ Celeste barks. It’s an order, not a wish.

Zach nods. ‘I’m sure it’ll open us up to a whole new type of client.’

‘Fingers crossed!’ I agree, my heart sinking. I like the clients we have. But it’s sweet that he’s trying to be positive – it’s very sexy.

I don’t mean sexy. I mean platonically impressive.

I don’t even fancy Zach anymore. I mean, you have to acknowledge his attractiveness because it’s right there in front of you. It’s undeniable. Like, you can’t look at him andnotimmediately want to stroke his face.

But that doesn’t mean Ifancyhim. I’m just stating facts: that he’s insanely good-looking and talented, and I can’t stand not touching him.

Facts not fancy.

He beams over at me. ‘It’s going to be great.’

It is not great.

The outside isn’t too bad. It’s a very edgy, colourful building in East London, but I had a feeling it would be, given the new direction Celeste seems intent on heading in. At least it has personality.

But the inside…

Barren is the word I would use to describe the aesthetic. It looks more like an Apple Store than a boutique family-run jewellery business. There are screens on every wall, and Celeste immediately grabs a remote control, blasting out the new advert. TheLove Islandstar dances for us in a bikini, showing off an ugly scarf and gloves from the range. They did not do a good job with Photoshop because I keep making eye contact with her nipples.

‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it!’ Celeste shouts over the advert’s pounding dance music.

Zach and I nod, dumbly.

‘And the best thing,’ Celeste shouts, ‘is that there won’t be any stock!’ She looks so delighted at this best thing, which definitely sounds like the worst thing. She waves at a series of smaller screens dotted around the room. ‘They’re all interactive,’ she explains as theLove Islandstar writhes around above us. ‘So customers can review everything in one place and even design their own jewellery and accessories with a computer programme!’ She grins at this and I glance nervously at Zach. He is crestfallen.

But surely, even if they can design their own thing on screen, we’d still need him? It’s the difference between drawing a picture for yourself and having a professional artist do it.

I look around, horror pooling in my stomach. The advert looping on repeat is already giving me a headache. To me, this store – what Celeste has done with this store – makeshavinga store completely redundant. It’s like we’ve opened a second shop just to show everyone how pointless having any shops are at all.

I should’ve spoken up. I should’ve been firmer when Celeste proposed all this. Is it too late?

‘Anyway,’ Celeste breezes happily. ‘I’ve got to shoot. We’re filming this afternoon, but you two stay here and get to know the space. I had averyexpensive interior designer do all this.’ She waves at the blank whiteness all around us.

We both suck in a breath as the door shuts behind her.

‘Jesus,’ I catch Zach muttering, all his positivity drained away. That’s how I know it’s bad.

I clear my throat, adopting a sunny American accent, ‘Hi there! Welcome to the Genius Bar, would you like to drop off your laptop?’

It doesn’t really break the tension but he laughs nicely.

‘This is meant to be Celeste’s Stones?!’ he says with disbelief, taking in the room again with a level of dismay. ‘It looksnothinglike Celeste’s Stones!’

‘I know,’ I say, my voice a mixture of sadness and embarrassment, like this is my fault.

‘God,’ he says, more under his breath now.

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