Lucy woke on New Year’s Eve with a strange feeling. Her stomach was tight with anticipation, a mix of nerves and excitement about the ball that evening.
What would it be like to see Hartley again? In spite of herself, her heart had leaped when Marj told her how sad he’d looked when she spoke to him. But things had changed. He had moved on; that much was clear. God only knew what he thought about her and Kirk.
Lucy had realized Kirk wasn’t exactly boyfriend material that night in his hotel room. Her doubts had been reinforced a few days later when the News of the World splashed on ‘Kelner’s Five In A Bed Orgy’. Two of the girls, one nineteen, the other twenty-three, had revealed all about their ‘sordid night of passion with the insatiable star’.
Lucy didn’t feel jealous, not even disappointed. It simply confirmed her suspicions.
Carlos had partied with him until five o’clock the night she had left them at Home House. He told her how Kirk had disappeared to the toilets at regular intervals and come back with his eyes wilder, his jaw more clenched each time. Kirk had been charming to Carlos all night, complimenting his outfit and asking for his number so he might call to arrange lunch. Fuck, he was ridiculously gorgeous, Carlos thought as he looked up into Kirk’s flawless face. His long eyelashes that curled upwards around his sky-blue eyes, his smooth bronzed skin, that strong jaw… The dream of every straight woman and gay man. It wasn’t like Carlos to get star-struck – that’s why he was so good at what he did, telling A-listers exactly how they’d fucked up and why he was the man to bail them out. But who wouldn’t meet their ultimate wet dream and be a little flummoxed? Thanks to Lucy, he wasn’t too in awe, though; he just couldn’t get the image of a bottle-blonde with bad roots bobbing up and down, Kirk’s trousers round his ankles. And that ridiculous visual picture somehow made him human. Still Adonis, but flawed nonetheless.
Kirk had made a big play of telling Carlos he was ready to settle down with the right woman and how much he thought of Lucy. It wasn’t lost on Carlos that many straight men were aware the best way to a girl’s heart was through her gay best friend. But by the time Carlos left, Kirk was stroking Takira Freshwater’s thigh.
Lucy hoped she could keep in touch with Kirk and be friends because she enjoyed his company. But she wasn’t convinced Kirk was a friendship-only kind of guy. He had sent her beautiful white roses the morning after. Lucy had smiled as she read the card: ‘Lots of love, Kirk… the guy who hopefully didn’t blow it.’
Lucy texted to thank him but was sure they both knew deep down that blown it was exactly what he’d done.
Onwards and upwards, as Max would say. Tonight would be fun. She hadn’t spent New Year’s Eve with Max for a few years, with Max usually heading to Scotland to party with Suzie while Lucy stayed in London with Amy or other friends from university.
Even better, Luke would be there too. If only she could shake the nerves she had at the thought of seeing Hartley… He probably wouldn’t even notice her; he’d be too busy organizing things and fawning over Bridget.
Lucy had received a call the night before to say the YSL dress had been delivered to her office. She had also received another call, from her editor’s PA, asking if she could pop in for a chat with the editor and managing editor. The two big bosses. The PA assured Lucy there was nothing to worry about. But still, being summoned on New Year’s Eve, when most of the staff were enjoying a few days off, was most unusual. Granted, there was no such thing as a two-week holiday over the festive period when it came to magazines and periodicals. They still had to get their regular edition out. But the executives usually took New Year’s Eve off, and stayed off until the third or fourth of January.
Lucy told Sarah, the PA, that midday was fine. She had to go in to pick up the gown in any case. She had booked an appointment with her favourite hairdresser, Taylor, just off Kensington High Street, for 2 p.m., having decided that pinning her hair back would best complement the dress.
As Lucy applied a coat of mascara and mint lip balm, she cringed when she recalled the night before.
She had arranged to meet up with Amy for a drink at Dover Street Wine Bar. Amy looked a fright – full of the winter flu, her nose red and eyes puffy. Amy told her she’d been determined not to cancel because they hadn’t seen each other since she’d left her with Kirk at the Met. They’d texted here and there but nothing made up for hearing all the juicy details face to face. Amy’s face was a picture when Lucy told her the blow-job story, which she now felt she’d told a hundred times. In her shock, Amy launched into a coughing fit, spluttering and gasping for air. When she had regained her composure, Lucy insisted she go home. As lovely as it was to see her friend, she was clearly in need of a good night’s sleep.
Lucy had made her way back to the flat. She’d expected to be out for the night, not home by nine. On the plus side, a night watching TV in her pyjamas with Max beckoned.
She wasn’t quite prepared for the scene that greeted her upon entering the flat: Luke and Max, half undressed on the sofa. As they hadn’t heard her come in, they were on the way to becoming fully undressed.
Lucy considered slipping out again unnoticed but as she shifted on her feet Luke, who was on top, saw her over the sofa and froze.
‘Shit. Lucy. Hi.’
Max craned her neck up and smiled. ‘Oh, sis. Hi.’
Lucy covered her eyes with her hands. ‘Don’t worry. I didn’t see a thing.’ The back of the sofa would have hidden them… but the mirror on the opposite wall reflected everything. Her brother and sister at it on the sofa would be for ever burned on her retinas.
‘Sorry, Luce. I thought you were out for the night?’ Max was hastily pulling her jumper on and sitting upright on the sofa, while Luke stood up. His jeans were around his ankles with only his boxers protecting his modesty. He was shuffling towards his T-shirt, which had been abandoned at the other side of the room. Then – wallop – he tripped over his jeans and thudded to the floor.
Lucy caught Max’s eye and both sisters laughed.
Catching her breath, Max managed: ‘Sorry, Luce, this must be really weird for you.’
It was. Max and Luke. Lucy was still trying to get her head round it. But she knew one thing for sure. She’d never seen Max so happy. And that made everything more than OK.
As Luke got to his feet, he was laughing too.
Lucy blushed now, as she remembered. She had to admit that it was hilarious as well as embarrassing.
Max, of course, had gone out of her way to make sure everything felt as normal as possible and insisted she fixed a bite to eat for them all.
‘Well, cheese on toast – as far as my culinary skills go, I’m afraid, Luke. Lucy got the domestic-goddess genes.’
Luke smiled back at Max. He’d hardly stopped smiling since New York. Max was unlike any girl he’d met before. A little whirlwind of fun – and yet at times he saw a quieter side, one that was reflective about what was happening between them. He longed to find out what she was thinking during those moments. Her expression told him it was something similar to what was going through his own head: was this really happening? The speed and intensity of it all seemed surreal, but wonderful.
As they sat round the table, Lucy marvelled at how natural Luke and Max were as a couple. It felt as though the three of them had been eating toasties together on winter nights for years.
In the back of Lucy’s mind had been the fact Luke and Max had been ripping each other’s clothes off less than an hour before, so she politely excused herself to bed.
When Luke’s mobile rang, Max kissed him on the cheek, whispering, ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ and knocked on Lucy’s door.
‘Luce, I’m worried. I can’t stop thinking how you must be freaking out – your sister getting it on with your brother.’
Lucy took her little sister in her arms and held her close. ‘No,’ she said into her sweet-smelling hair. ‘Two of the people I love most in the world are making each other happy. That’s wonderful.’
Max pulled away and looked at Lucy. She could tell she meant it.
‘Thanks, Luce. Love you.’