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‘I feel positively shabby by comparison.’
Anouk was still gazing at the architecture and Saskia laughed, grateful for the momentary distraction.
‘Well, you don’t look it,’ she told her friend. ‘You look like you’re sparkling, and it isn’t just the new dress. Although I’m glad you let me talk you into buying it.’
‘I’m glad I let you talk me into buying it, too,’ admitted Anouk, smoothing her hands over her dress as though she was nervous.
‘You look totally Hollywood,’ Saskia assured her wryly, knowing that it would break whatever tension her friend appeared to be feeling.
‘Don’t.’ Anouk shuddered on cue. ‘I think I’ve had enough of Hollywood to last me a lifetime.’
‘Me, too.’ More than anyone else could ever possibly know, thought Saskia. ‘But still, the look is good.’
‘Maybe I should be in a more festive colour.’
Anouk glanced at Saskia’s own dress enviously—another much-needed boost to Saskia’s uncharacteristically wavering confidence.
In fact, her friend had already waxed lyrical about the ‘stunning’ emerald dress, claiming that it might have looked gorgeous on the rack but ‘on your voluptuously feminine body it looks entirely bespoke’.
For a moment Saskia had been worried that it had been code for, I can tell you’re pregnant and it’s beginning to show. Even though Saskia knew she wasn’t showing at all. There wasn’t a hint of any swell over her abdomen yet, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was this lack of physical manifestation of her pregnancy which had stalled her in seeking Malachi out at MIG International when he hadn’t shown up at Care to Play.
As if a part of her believed he might doubt what she was saying if he couldn’t see it for himself.
‘I think I look like a Christmas tree.’ Saskia made herself laugh again, with a wave of her hand towards the glorious eighteen-foot work of art which dominated the entrance of the venue. ‘Although if I looked that amazing I’d be happy.’
‘You look even better and you know it.’ Anouk replied instantly. ‘You’ve only just walked in and you’ve turned a dozen heads.’
And yet there was only one head she wanted to turn. Supposed rebound or not.
‘They’re probably looking at you—and, either way, I don’t care. Tonight, Anouk, we’re going to relax and enjoy ourselves.’
‘We are?’
‘We are,’ Saskia said firmly, hoping she was convincing her friend even if she wasn’t convincing herself.
She snagged a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter, for something to do with her hands, before realising she couldn’t drink it and passing it straight to Anouk. ‘Starting with this.’
‘You still feeling sick?’ Anouk frowned, eying her with a little too much intensity.
‘Yeah,’ she lied, and another stab of guilt shot through her as she tried to suppress the heat flooding her cheeks.
Anouk didn’t look convinced. If anything, her friend seemed to tense, as though she knew.
The guilt pressed in harder. They’d never deceived each other in over twenty-five years. As soon as she’d told Malachi she would tell Anouk. Why hadn’t she told her before? Was it because she’d always known that, much as her best friend had never encouraged her to leave her ex-fiancé, Anouk had never really taken to Andy?
Ironically, Anouk had even apologised on the one occasion when Saskia had pressed her for an opinion, only for her friend to tell her that whenever she looked at Andy all she saw was another playboy—just like Anouk’s mother’s lovers.
‘Relax.’ Saskia nudged her gently now. ‘Enjoy your drink.’
‘I don’t really like...’ Anouk began, but her friend shushed her.
‘You do tonight.’
Anouk balked, and Saskia knew that all Anouk could see was her mother, downing glasses of wine and popping pills.
‘One glass doesn’t make you your mother.’ Saskia linked her arm through Anouk’s, reading her mind.
It was Anouk’s turn to offer a rueful smile. ‘That obvious, huh?’
