He's the One (34 page)

‘No, I don’t agree. It’s about respect. I’d respect any girlfriend of mine too much to put on weight, and I expect the same from her. Same goes for waxing.’

She couldn’t have heard him right. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘You know, I keep it tidy down there – I have to because of my work and I expect my girlfriend to do the same.’

What the actual fuck! Did he really think that he was selling himself as a prospective boyfriend? Buff and waxed. Brooke had a vision of him weighing any girlfriend of his at the start of their relationship, and then regularly checking them to make sure they still
respected him by not putting on any weight. And monitoring their bikini line! She sincerely hoped that his last girlfriend had dumped him, but either way she was so much better off without him.

Somehow they got through the rest of dinner with Brooke inwardly vowing that she never wanted to see Seb again. She thought of the easy banter she shared with Flynn, the butterfly feeling he aroused in her, the sense of anticipation and excitement she got whenever she was around him. Being with Seb reminded her of the shallow, spoiled girl she had been, who had only cared about what she looked like and who would probably have found the conversation about calories enthralling.

She was dreading that Seb would ask her back to his place, or want to extend the evening with a drink, and was already planning her exit strategy. She had her excuses all lined up. She had terrible period pain, trapped wind, an urgent need to wax her bikini line. But, thank God, Seb said he had a really early start for a shoot.

Brooke was keen to say her goodbyes at the restaurant, but he insisted on walking her to the taxi rank. She couldn’t help noticing that he spent most of the way there checking out his appearance in the shop windows they passed. He was as vain as Harry, but with none of his charm. Brooke was embarrassed that she had ever found him attractive. He made Christian seem like a decent guy … and that was saying something.

They were just passing All Saints when she noticed a familiar figure walking towards them. It was Flynn. He must have been working at the restaurant as he was in his waiter’s uniform. His leather jacket was slung over his shoulder and he had never looked so handsome.

He grinned the moment he saw Brooke, and stopped
to speak to them. ‘Out on the town while some of us have been working?’

If only he knew what hard work tonight had been! Frankly she would rather have been working a double shift waiting tables than spending any time with Seb, the giant tosser. Hell, she would rather have done the washing up all night and listened to Big Bruno singing Frank Sinatra songs, and he was a terrible singer, tone deaf, who murdered anything he sang.

She managed a smile and introduced Seb to Flynn.

Seb’s first question summed up his character perfectly. ‘So do you work out a lot then?’

‘Nah, gyms are boring. I play football and I run and go swimming. That’s enough, isn’t it?’

‘You think it’s enough, but you’re probably not working on specific muscle groups.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t really have time for gyms.’

Who knows what other fascinating questions Seb had lined up for Flynn, but Brooke said that she
really
had to get a taxi, as she had a drama assessment first thing. She was certain that Flynn wore an ironic smile as he said goodbye. And so much for thinking that she would invite Seb to her party so she could have a partner for the night. She would rather be single than have to fake any kind of relationship with him.

She was just falling asleep when her phone beeped with a text message from Flynn.
Cheer up, we’ve all been on terrible dates, just put it down to experience. You were way too good for that gym bunny, even if he has worked all his muscle groups. xx

She spent the next twenty minutes buzzing about the fact he had signed off with two kisses – surely that said they were more than friends? Oh, God! She
wished
it said that.

Mila and Harry wanted to know all the gory details the following day at college when they met up for coffee.

‘It was a disaster,’ Brooke told them. ‘There was no chemistry between us at all.
Nada
. Nothing.
Rien
!’

‘But Mila said he was so good-looking. What’s going on with you, missy? It’s about time you snagged yourself a hot English guy. One of us in this trio has to have a successful relationship.’ That from Harry.

‘Well, it’s not going to be me. But I can deal with it. I’d rather be single than be with a jerk – however hot he is. Actually he wasn’t even that hot, he kind of had a sweaty top lip, that grossed me out.’ She then proceeded to tell them about Seb’s outburst about his ex putting on weight and not keeping her bikini line in check, which had the pair of them in hysterics. In spite of feeling mortified that she had ever thought he was attractive, Brooke found herself joining in. The healing power of laugher, or something like that … Until Flynn turned up.

‘What’s so funny?’

Brooke wanted to warn her friends not to divulge the details, but of course Harry had to blab, even with her shooting him a pleading look. So much for solidarity. She folded her arms. Why was it her who always had to have her personal life raked over while she knew next to nothing about Flynn’s relationship with Eve?

Flynn shook his head, and said in a mock-serious tone, ‘So you were completely taken in by his looks and ripped abs? I’m disappointed in you, Brooke, I thought you had been on a journey of self-discovery since you’d moved here, that you’d left LA Brooke behind.’ He sighed. ‘We had all expected so much better of you. You have not been your highest self, have you?’

He was deliberately winding her up! She defiantly gave him the middle finger. ‘Yeah, well, we all make mistakes, and I can admit that Seb was a big fat one.’

‘Well, at least you didn’t shag him, sweetie.’ Harry, of course.

‘Can you imagine? He probably has a mirror above his bed so he can watch himself perform,’ Brooke replied, which set them all off giggling again, even Flynn.

‘So I guess I’m going to be single for my eighteenth birthday party,’ she declared. ‘But so long as you guys are as well,’ she pointed at Mila and Harry, ‘then I can do it. Maybe I should ban people from bringing their partners. Or if they do bring them, there can be no PDAs. I’ll have security guards going round and breaking up anything like that. It’s my party, and if I’m not getting any action then no one is.’ She looked meaningfully at Flynn.

‘What? I don’t do that kind of thing in public,’ he protested.

‘
Perlease!
You and Eve are repeat offenders,’ Harry put in.

Flynn suddenly seemed awkward. ‘Yeah, well, I’m not sure if Eve will be coming to the party. We had a row.’

‘Oh?’ Brooke asked, trying not to let on how interested she was in that piece of information.

But Flynn didn’t say anything else and they all had to head off to their next class.

‘
Please
let them have split up,’ Harry whispered to Brooke as Flynn and Mila walked ahead. ‘It’s about time he realised what a bitch from hell she is.’ He paused. ‘And you know what I’ve been thinking – you and he would make the perfect couple. If he has to go out with a girl, then I would rather it was you above all
others. At least that way I can get to find out what he’s like in bed. You would owe me full disclosure. I take my pleasure any way I can in these lean times.’

‘Harry, you’re nuts!’ Brooke exclaimed, certain that her cheeks were flaming bright red. ‘And anyway, why do you even think Flynn would be interested in me?’

‘Call it intuition, sweet pea. And you two have got that banter thing going on between you that only happens when two people really like each other. I can detect the chemistry between you.’ He paused. ‘And you’re interested in him, aren’t you?’

‘Errr …’ she stuttered.

‘Yep, thought so.’

And before she could come up with a reply, he caught up with Mila and Flynn, leaving Brooke standing there, a mix of emotions bubbling up crazily inside her: excitement, hope, longing and the flutter of those butterflies. Oh brother, she just hoped that Harry could keep his thoughts to himself … but what were the chances? He was such a blabber.

Chapter 37

Liberty

‘You look beautiful, Mom,’ Brooke declared, from her vantage point on the bed, while Liberty sat at her dressing table getting ready for Angel and Cal Bailey’s party.

‘You think? I’m not so sure about this dress.’ She stood up and considered herself in the full-length mirror. She was in the pink flared hem Hervé Léger bandage dress that Denys had picked out for her. ‘You don’t think it’s too mutton?’ She was aware that she was revealing a lot of flesh – the dress was strapless and was way above her knee. She hadn’t dressed up since they’d moved back to Brighton, but lived in skinny jeans and t-shirts.

‘Jeez! You’re the youngest mom out of all my friends! How can it be mutton? What are you supposed to wear? A burqa?’

‘It’s just I’m so out of practice at going to these events.’ Liberty hadn’t told Brooke that Cory was going to be there. So many times she had thought about cancelling but it might be her only chance to
see him and tell him about the letter. She couldn’t hope to get any closure until she had done that. She picked up her silver Swarovski crystal clutch and checked she had everything in it that she’d need.

‘Just go and have fun.’ Her daughter sounded exactly like Em. ‘Maybe you’ll meet some handsome footballer and become a WAG or whatever they’re called over here.’

‘Hmm, let me think about that … No. I’m perfectly happy being single for the moment.’ Several times over the last week Brooke had tried to bring up the subject of Cory, with varying degrees of subtlety, but Liberty had refused point blank to talk about him. She was very much hoping her daughter would forget about it soon, she didn’t need the constant reminders. But some impulse made her open her jewellery case and reach for the dragonfly necklace.

‘And what are you going to do tonight?’ she asked, fastening the necklace.

‘I’m seeing a film with the gang.’

‘Flynn as well?’

‘Yep – apparently Eve still isn’t talking to him, which means he can come out and play with us.’

A car horn sounded from outside. ‘Oh, that’ll be Em and Noah.’ Liberty blew Brooke a kiss. ‘Promise I look okay?’

Brooke raised her eyebrows, smiled and said, ‘I promise.’

Liberty was smiling to herself as she ran downstairs; it was so great hearing Brooke refer to her ‘gang’. So what if she hadn’t got a man in her life? Her daughter was happy and growing into a beautiful and well-balanced young woman. She was becoming everything that Liberty had wanted her to be.

Angel and Cal Bailey lived out in the countryside in a stunning Edwardian mansion set in over seventy acres of land, which was enough to accommodate Angel’s horses, a swimming pool, hot tub, sauna and tennis courts, according to Em, who had all the inside info from Noah.

‘Blimey, this is a bit posh,’ the taxi driver exclaimed as they drew up to the imposing iron gates where two security personnel, dressed in black suits, with headsets and walkie talkies, were waiting to check people in.

‘Are you lot famous or something then?’ he continued. He peered at Em and Liberty.

‘I’m not, she is,’ Em pointed at her friend. But thankfully before he could launch into one of those ‘What have I seen you in?’ conversations, Noah paid the driver and they made a quick getaway.

The driveway up to the house was lined with flickering candles in ornate silver hurricane lamps. Now Liberty felt even more nervous. What would it be like seeing Cory again? Would she get the same hostile reaction?

Em linked her arm through Liberty’s, sensing her nervousness. ‘Come on, I need to get me some vintage champagne, but I can’t eat too much or I’ll burst out of my Spanx.’ She looked very glam and pretty in an off-the-shoulder red Vivienne Westwood dress, and only slightly ruined the effect by trying to adjust her knicker line. Noah, who usually lived in faded jeans and t-shirts had scrubbed up well in a tux, but looked as if he’d prefer to be back in his jeans.

‘Noah, does my bum look massive?’ Em asked her husband. ‘Is it going to cause an eclipse of the moon?’

‘It looks great,’ he said automatically. Clearly he’d been asked that question more than once.

Angel and Cal were having the party in a vast
marquee. Em laughed when she saw that it was white. ‘I think Cal put his foot down about having a pink marquee again. Angel was allowed one for her thirtieth and he said she can’t have another until her fortieth.’

When she saw Liberty’s anxious expression, she said, ‘Stop worrying. It will be good to see Cory again.’

Liberty didn’t share her optimism but she followed her friend over to where Angel and Cal were greeting their guests. She reckoned Cal was in his late-thirties now and he was definitely one of those men who was getting better looking as he got older, with his olive skin, handsome face and jet black hair that was greying slightly at the sides. He didn’t play football any more but he still had the physique of a sportsman. Angel was as beautiful as ever in a stunning silk chiffon coral gown with a frankly enormous diamond necklace round her neck.

As soon as she saw Liberty, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, hiya! I’m so glad you could come, I’ve been meaning to invite you over for ages.’

The women exchanged kisses and then Liberty was introduced to Cal, who also gave her the obligatory air kiss. They chatted a little about how she was settling into Brighton, before the hosts had to go and talk to their other guests.

‘Sorry. We’ll catch up properly later. You know what these parties are like, you never get the chance to talk to the people you want to, you’re always rushing around like a blue-arsed fly!’

Liberty and Em took a glass of champagne from the tray a waiter offered them, while Noah went off to track down a beer. He loathed champagne. Liberty scanned the marquee, which was by now full of guests. But there was no sign of Cory.

‘Darling girls! How are you!’ The blond, tanned
bombshell who was Jez appeared at their side. He seemed to have had his teeth whitened even more and they practically glowed in the subtle lighting. ‘This is my husband, Rufus,’ he declared proudly. Rufus was exactly as Liberty had imagined, a man of few, but well-chosen words, and clearly a complete sweetheart.