Maame(40)

“Ah, well, Design is in charge of covers, but I can certainly mention your idea this afternoon.”

“I can take the minutes for the meeting,” I offer.

“Their assistant Kelsey takes minutes for all Design-led meetings, but don’t worry,” Kris says, “there’s lots of important bits to get stuck into and I can tell you want to be involved. Here.”

She hands me a list of admin tasks, some of which have nothing to do with Flavor Pairings.

“Great.” I smile tightly. “I’ll get started.”



* * *



They went with my pear idea!

Not pear and chocolate, but pear and cinnamon. I hear cinnamon was Georgina’s (one of the senior designers) idea, so naturally the pear-pair motif was hers too. Clearly, my ideas are good and there’s solace in that, but only a little when no one knows or acknowledges that they’re mine. I still don’t even get to join Creative, of which there are now two meetings a week. This would have been the perfect opportunity to learn so much about the process, witnessing firsthand the stages from conception to completion, but I can’t seem to get in.

Maybe I don’t deserve to get in. It’s a bit like retelling someone else’s anecdote and getting the credit—I wouldn’t have pitched the idea if it weren’t for Ben. But I do have an idea that is completely my own, my Afra discovery, and I’m going straight to the top with that one.



* * *



“Okay, I need meetings with…” And Penny lists the names of colleagues as she taps away at her keyboard. “Right, anything else? How’s it all going?” She continues to stare at her computer screen; her eye shadow is bright purple today and she’s pushed her glasses up to keep the growing strands of her hair out of her eyes. “Kris tells me she’s happy with how hard you’re working.”

Now or never.

“Yes, all fine,” I answer. “Speaking of Kris, I wanted to tell her about this proposal I have, but she’s out this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Penny says.

Shit, she’s looking directly at me now, her fingers hovering above her keyboard.

“Kris mentioned we needed new ideas, preferably from our own writers, and I was looking through … doing research … well, I was on Google, actually, no, on Instagram…”

Wrap it up, Maddie.

“I found Afra Yazden-Blake—she’s the wife of baker Stephen Blake,” I say. “She has a food blog she doesn’t update much—I printed out a few of her recipes—but her Instagram is full of delicious, home-cooked Middle Eastern meals. I know she’s not on our list, but she is affiliated via her husband and might be open if we approach her, rather than asking her to submit. She doesn’t have an agent or any professional cooking experience, I don’t think, but she might be worth looking into.”

Penny walks over to the table and looks at the recipes and screenshots of Afra’s Instagram I’ve laid out on the table. “Hmm,” she says. “Perhaps.” She gives me a friendly smile, then leaves the papers and returns to her desk. She’s back to tapping away in no time.

Ouch. Maybe I should have gone to Kris; some management don’t take ideas seriously if it doesn’t come from a peer.

I stand up and start gathering the papers.

“No, you can leave them there, Maddie,” Penny says. “I’ll take a look later.”

I look at her in consternation. “Oh, okay, great.”

I leave the room triumphant.





Chapter Sixteen


Ben

Still on for Friday night?



Maddie

Of course!



Ben

Look at us. You went from taking a week to reply to under a minute and now we’re going on our third date



Maddie

?



But something about his message jars me. It’s the mention of our third date.

Google: Does a third date mean sex?

That Dating Life

The three-date rule is more of an American invention, so does it apply to those of us across the pond? Well, if it’s a rule you want to follow, it really means that if you don’t want to be considered a whore/slut/fuck buddy, then you need to wait at least three paid dates (so a walk in the park doesn’t count) before having sex. Of course, this rule applies strictly to women.

The Girl Next Door There’s only a wrong way to have sex when dating and that’s being pressured into it. The only “rule” you need to stick to is having sex when you want to.

Google: How do I know if I’m ready to have sex?

Carmen: You just know

Tiffany: Unfortunately you tend to find out after you have sex I think I’m ready to have sex. I’m officially closer to thirty than twenty, so I should be ready. I must be almost a decade behind most women. But we’re going to the cinema; we won’t have sex in the cinema. Maybe I should casually suggest going back to his place after. What’s the code word: nightcap?

Is it weird there’s a part of me that wants this over with? Probably, but best to save further ruminations on that for when I can afford a therapist.

Maybe it’s not that weird. Maybe that time in my life—the rose petals on the bed and lit candles on the floor—is over, or just not me. Will I regret it, though? Ben knows I’m a virgin, so if it is going to happen on our third date, does he have something special planned? How will I feel if he doesn’t?