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Tess’s hand covered her mouth. ‘Oh Brooke, you didn’t.’
Brooke dipped her head in shame. ‘Well, no, I almost slept with him. I was about to. It was the best sex I never had.’
Her publicist’s brows arched hopefully. ‘So you didn’t actually have sex with him?’
‘That’s not the point,’ she said fiercely, thinking about Matt’s mouth on her skin and how much she’d enjoyed it. Brooke supposed that everyone’s definition of unfaithful was different, but the fact that she had kept her jeans on throughout the interlude still made her – by most people standards, including her own – guilty of infidelity.
‘You don’t think you’re in love with him, do you?’ said Tess incredulously.
Thump, thump. Was it the music from the club or the pounding in her head?
‘I don’t know,’ Brooke croaked, thinking back to the nigh
t in the Providence club and what would have happened if she had gone home with Matt Palmer. Life was full of small decisions that had monumental consequences. Like going up to Matt’s apartment last night to collect her wedding present, which had thrown everything she thought she wanted into question.
‘I know that when I’m with him I feel happy. Somehow lighter.’
‘Go on a diet,’ said Tess scornfully.
Brooke turned to her angrily. ‘Tess, I’m serious. Matt is leaving New York and he wants me to go with him.’ Tears that tasted of salt and cosmetics dripped into her mouth.
Tess glared at her. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ she said, her hands on her hips.
‘Maybe,’ said Brooke fiercely, ‘or maybe this is the first time in years I am actually using my own mind.’
Tess was shaking her head slowly. Brooke did not need her to say the words to tell what she was thinking. I told you so. She had warned her about playing with fire.
Suddenly Brooke shook her fists and kicked out angrily at the wall.
‘Do you think I want to be going through this, Tess? I don’t even recognize myself, doing something as awful as this,’ she cried. ‘David’s a good man. I love him, I really do. I owe it to him – to myself – to go into this marriage being one hundred per cent committed to him. Call me old–fashioned, call me a romantic, but when I marry someone I want the whole of my heart to belong to them. I don’t want to be fresh out of another man’s bed.’
Tess suddenly grabbed Brooke’s shoulder and pushed her back towards the club.
‘What on earth … ?’ she protested.
‘Look,’ said Tess urgently, pointing towards the other end of the alley. A dark figure was moving towards them holding the unmistakable shape of a long–lens camera.
‘Bloody paparazzi,’ hissed Tess, ‘get back inside.’
‘I can’t!’
‘You have to,’ said Tess, her voice firm but tough. ‘Go back in there, have a drink and try and act as normal as possible.’
‘Tess … ’ she pleaded, but Tess’s grip was strong.
‘Do you want David to read about this in tomorrow’s papers?’ she asked. ‘If you leave now, they will know something is wrong. Just get through tonight, pretend you’re having a brilliant time. We’ll talk this through first thing tomorrow.’
Brooke looked at Tess, her expression one of abject misery. ‘You wouldn’t marry someone if you were happy with somebody else, would you?’ she asked, her voice almost lost on the cold wintry air.
‘I don’t ever want to get married,’ said Tess, turning away.
‘Hey, look, the bride is getting all teary and loved–up,’ giggled Debs Asquith as Brooke re–entered the party.
‘I’m allowed to get a little sentimental aren’t I?’ she smiled weakly, taking a plastic tiara from her friend’s head and wedging it onto her own. ‘Now, hand me that bottle, I need a drink.’
For the next hour she drifted from group to group, barely registering the conversations she was having, trying to lose herself in a fug of champagne.
‘Brookey, I can’t believe we haven’t spoken to you yet!’
