He's the One (30 page)

‘D’you want a beer, Eve?’ Flynn asked.

She tutted. ‘You know I never drink beer, it really bloats my stomach.’

At that Brooke had a terrible desire to giggle. Harry had been right. Eve was so annoying and so
high-maintenance. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle any outburst but she was too late. A sound escaped her, something between a snort and a giggle. Whoah, she was discovering new levels of sophistication …

Eve glared at her.

‘Sorry, it was the beer, it gives me terrible gas. Shit, d’you say that over here? It’s like when I hear people say they’re dying for a fag, I keep doing a double take …’ She was burbling away, conscious of the Arctic freeze coming her way from Eve. ‘Anyway, I’d better go.’ Brooke stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘D’you have a number for a taxi?’

Flynn didn’t even suggest that she stay for another beer … and Brooke guessed he was going to get it in the neck from Eve after she left. There was an awkward five minutes while she waited for the taxi to arrive. Eve didn’t say a word and Flynn seemed on edge. And when she left there was none of the banter that they’d shared earlier in the night. Just a quick goodbye and absolutely no hug. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself as the taxi pulled away. But it did.

Chapter 31

Liberty

After her confrontation with Cory, going to Angel and Cal’s party was the very last thing Liberty wanted to do. She wanted to stay at home and brood and try somehow to get over the man who didn’t want her at all. But Em wasn’t going to allow her to do that. Em, who had sat patiently with her as she sobbed her eyes out after seeing Cory, had decided enough was enough. So she’d turned up at Liberty’s front door.

‘We’re going shopping for something to wear for the party. And I’m not leaving until you come. I’ll move in with Noah and the kids if necessary. Or you can go and get dressed. You have ten minutes. Oh, and I’ll make you some tea and toast, you look terrible.’

Em was like an unstoppable force and Liberty knew better than to try and convince her that she was fine and that she wasn’t going to the party. An hour later they were sitting on the silver velvet sofa in their friend Denys’s boutique, sipping white wine spritzers while Denys selected various dresses for them to consider.

Denys was a gorgeous, curvy blonde, who modelled
herself on Marilyn Monroe and always wore red Chanel lipstick and sweeping fake eyelashes. It was a look she’d been working since the age of fifteen. Liberty imagined she would probably always look like that. She always told everyone that they looked ‘wonderful, darling’, no doubt to encourage them to buy her designer clothes. She was also a terrible gossip, who Liberty would never trust to keep a secret, but at heart she meant well.

‘You must wear something to show off that fabulous figure of yours, Liberty,’ Denys declared. ‘Like this, for instance.’ She held up a strapless pink flared hem Hervé Léger bandage dress.

‘That’s way too short!’ Liberty protested, out of the habit of wearing such figure-flaunting numbers.

‘With those legs and that body? Are you crazy?’ Denys replied. ‘Go on, give it a try.’

Reluctantly Liberty got up from the sofa and went into the fitting room. She slipped out of her grey skinny jeans and black jumper and into the dress. It was an amazing fit and hugged her figure perfectly.

Denys knocked at the door. ‘I’ve got some heels for you, darling.’

Liberty opened the fitting-room door and Denys let out a whistle of appreciation. ‘That looks stunning! I’m not even going to attempt to find you anything else. That’s the one. You’ll have men queuing up to talk to you at that party. Incidentally,’ she lowered her voice, ‘I was so sorry to hear about your divorce.’

‘Well, I wasn’t. To be honest, I feel as if I’ve been let out of prison. The decree nisi should come through any day now.’

Liberty had been worried that Zac would contest the divorce, but because she was walking away from the marriage with only the money she had earned, he had
let it go through. She guessed that he would have met someone else by now. Zac was not a man who could be on his own for long.

‘Well, darling, enjoy it while it lasts because I doubt you’ll stay single for long. And I imagine Cal and Angel know some very eligible young men who would love to meet a Hollywood star. Come and show Em.’

She also loved the dress and ignored all Liberty’s protests that it was too short. ‘For God’s sake, if I had your figure, I’d dress like that all the time!’ she declared, then added, ‘So, Denys, do you know who is going to the party?’ Denys invariably knew who had been invited to big events in the city.

She reeled off a list of footballers Liberty had never heard of, a couple of TV presenters, and several actors.

‘Oh, and there’s this absolutely gorgeous artist going. Cory Richardson, have you heard of him? He’s made quite a name for himself painting various super-models and actors, and Angel in fact. I’m not sure if he’s attached or single. But if he’s single … well, I would be first in line. I met him at a charity dinner the other month, where he had donated one of his paintings for the auction. What a charmer! They don’t make them like that any more.’

Liberty looked over at Em, who shook her head and put her finger to her lips. So, she was going to have a second chance to see Cory. But would he listen to anything she had to say? Not unless he’d had a massive change of heart. And she couldn’t see how that was possible.

Denys had turned her attention to Em and didn’t notice that Liberty had gone completely silent. She returned to the fitting room and took off the pink dress. Em knocked at the door and came in.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘Yes … no. I don’t know. How can I go to the party now?’

‘Maybe he’ll have calmed down and want to talk,’ replied Em, ever the optimist.

‘I doubt that very much. And I don’t know if I could bear to see him with his wife again. They looked so happy together. What am I going to do, Em?’

‘You’re going to buy that dress for a start. And you are going to the party. Otherwise it’s like you’ve got something to hide, and you haven’t. Your ex-husband was the one to blame, not you. And you’ve got to tell Cory that, once and for all. But before that, you can give me your honest opinion about me in these dresses. I want something to blow Noah’s mind.’

Liberty forced herself to stop thinking about Cory for a second. ‘Of course. Start with the red one.’

Chapter 32

Brooke

In the week that followed Flynn barely spoke to Brooke. He seemed subdued, and rushed off after every class. To see Eve, she guessed. Well, good luck to them. But she felt hurt nevertheless. She had believed that they were getting closer and had come to enjoy talking to him, not even minding too much when he teased her. She missed their conversations, and she missed him. She wasn’t so sure any more that she only saw him as a friend. It was just her luck to pick someone who was in love with someone else ….

She probably would have spent some nights brooding about him but Mila forced her to go to the gym every day after college. Brooke had unleashed the inner fitness fanatic in her. From hating the gym with a passion, Mila had now become obsessed. More than once Brooke would have far rather sneaked off home and crashed out in front of the TV, but she felt that she couldn’t let Mila down.

One night they were finishing up with some stretches and Brooke was thinking longingly of a shower when
Mila nudged her and whispered, ‘Hey, that guy has been here every single night that we have, and every single night he’s checked you out. He’s doing it now. Two o’clock.’

Of course Brooke looked the wrong way and saw an overweight middle-aged man, in a vest and shorts, with black hair sprouting from his back and shoulders, grunting with effort as he attempted to pick up some dumb-bells.
Perlease!
She might be single, but she wasn’t desperate. She shot Mila a WTF look.

‘Not him, you idiot. Him!’ Throwing discretion to the wind Mila pointed at a dark-haired twenty-something guy, who smiled and waved and to Brooke’s embarrassment walked over to them.

He looked as if he had barely broken sweat during his workout, whereas Brooke knew that her face was scarlet.

‘Hi, I wondered if you would like to have a drink with me in the bar?’ He looked at Mila. ‘Both of you, of course. I’m Seb by the way.’

Okay, so he had nice manners, plus he was very good-looking with short dark-blond hair and hazel eyes. Also very nice teeth. He had the look of a younger Josh Duhamel, a Hollywood actor Brooke rather liked …

‘Oh, I’m busy,’ Mila replied. ‘But I’m sure Brooke’s free.’

Thanks for dropping me in it, Mila
. Then again Seb seemed cute. And why the hell shouldn’t she have a drink with him? No one else had shown any interest in her since she’d moved here, and a bit of male attention would certainly be welcome and make her feel that she still had something.

Half an hour later Brooke was sitting in the bar with
Seb, chatting over a smoothie and finding him very easy company. He was halfway through a degree in Marketing at Brighton Uni and was also making quite a good living as a model. His plan was to model for as long as he could and then open his own agency. She liked his ambition. Even better, he had been to LA and loved it – the climate, the vibe, the shopping, the restaurants, the beaches, the people. No hint of any judgment. At last! Someone who got it! And someone who could get her! And she was a hundred per cent certain that he wasn’t gay from the looks he had been giving her. Serious eye contact, that could only mean one thing.

‘So do you think you’ll go back there?’ he asked.

‘You bet! As soon as I finish college and drama school here.’

‘Good, you’ll be here for a while then.’ He paused. ‘I would hate you to be leaving too soon. I’d really like to get to know you better.’

Okay, that was a little cheesy but Brooke was won over by the warm smile he gave her. What was wrong with being nice? He might not have Flynn’s edge and wit, but Flynn was unavailable.

They arranged to meet the following week – Seb was going to be away until then – and Brooke went home feeling maybe life wasn’t so bad after all. Seb was just the ego boost she’d needed.

Back home her mom was going through a pile of old photographs. She was sitting on the living-room floor with photos scattered everywhere.

‘Mum gave me these the other night. I thought I’d sort them out and put them into an album,’ Liberty told her. ‘There are some beautiful ones of you.’

Brooke sat down next to her and started looking through the pictures. There were heaps of her as a
baby and toddler, looking like the happiest child in the world, and masses of her with Liberty and Nina. She couldn’t help feeling a little sad that there wasn’t a single image of her dad.

She picked up a picture that showed her holding an ice cream, one of those whipped-up white ones with a flake that she would never allow herself to have now – far too many calories. Sitting next to her on the beach, laughing at her after she had managed to get ice cream all over her face, was a striking young man with blond hair and blue eyes.

‘Who’s this?’ she held up the picture for Liberty to see.

Instantly her mom seemed to tense up. ‘Oh, just someone I used to know.’

‘Yeah, but who is he? He looks really nice.’ Brooke noticed there were several more pictures of the young man with her as she flicked through the pile, and then she came across one of him with her mom. They were standing by the sea, arms round each other; Liberty was looking up at him and smiling and he was gazing at her. They looked completely, head over heels, in love. Brooke didn’t think she had ever seen Liberty look at Zac like that.

Her mom practically snatched the photograph out of Brooke’s hand and shoved it to the bottom of the pile, as if she couldn’t bear to look at it.

‘So, who is he?’ Brooke repeated. ‘You obviously really liked each other.’

‘Someone who belongs in the past,’ Liberty said, and began scooping up the photos and putting them into a plastic bag.

‘Yeah, but how long did you see each other? What happened?’

Liberty was usually so easygoing that Brooke could
ask her anything, but now, without meeting her daughter’s eye, she snapped, ‘Nothing that I want to talk about. It was a summer romance; it didn’t mean anything. Then I met Zac and moved to LA. End of story.’

Whoah! Liberty seemed seriously rattled. She managed to calm down enough to ask what Brooke fancied for supper: ‘I could make a salade Niçoise.’

Brooke didn’t want to be fobbed off so easily, but equally she didn’t want to stress out her mom, who’d seemed genuinely upset by the questions.

‘Fine by me.’

She was itching to go through the photos again to see if there were any more of the mystery guy, but Liberty took them with her and hid them away somewhere. Maybe she was thinking, out of sight, out of mind, but Brooke’s curiosity was aroused now.

Over dinner Liberty asked her about college and what she’d been up to. It was a novelty, spending so much time with her mom, and Brooke had to admit that she liked it. It had been lonely at times at the LA house.

‘I met this guy at the gym, Seb, he seems really nice. I might ask him to the party. It would be good to have a partner there. I don’t want to be without a date at my eighteenth, that would be so tragic.’

‘But I thought you’d go with Flynn.’

Where did that come from? ‘
Hello!
Flynn has a girlfriend.’ She put on an English accent. ‘A frightfully, frightfully posh girlfriend, who thinks that I’m not terribly classy and far too tanned. She’s one of those English rose types.’

‘Oh.’ Liberty seemed surprised by the news. ‘I thought—’ She stopped.

‘What?’

‘I thought he really liked you when he came over that time. And I’m sure he was only helping out with the cooking to impress you. In fact, I’m a hundred per cent certain. He kept looking at you, and teasing you. Sure signs.’

‘No way! He’s always having a go at me for being such an LA airhead, and he hates LA. He criticises my clothes, my shoes, my accent, my attitude.’ Brooke paused for a moment. ‘Oh, I guess he was sweet when those women were so vile to me in the restaurant, and he told me I was a good actress. But no, Mom, he’s not interested in me. Only as a friend.’