suppose he’ll be telling you to go blond next. Men like Joe always prefer blondes, they see them as some kind of status symbol.”
“Actually . . .”
“Oh no! Alice! For Christ’s sake, that’s ridiculous. You’re not seriously thinking of going blond? For Joe?”
“Not for Joe, no. I’m going to the hairdresser on Thursday and I thought I might have a few highlights. It was my idea,” she huffed, seeing the expression on Emily’s face.
“And what does the beloved think?”
“The beloved thinks it would really suit me.”
“I just bet he does.”
“
J oe!” Emily forces a large, fake smile as she reaches up to kiss him hello.
“Emily!” Joe beams from ear to ear, giving the distinct impression that he could not be more delighted to see her. “How lovely that you’re here, as cute as ever, I see.”
Emily raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. “That charm just never stops a-flowin’, I see.”
“I say it as I see it,” he grins. He likes Emily. Doesn’t fancy her—far too strong and opinionated for him (not to mention far too close to Alice), but he actually respects her, and that’s something he honestly can’t say for a lot of people.
“Emily’s cool,” he used to say to Alice. “She gets it.”
“So what are
you
doing here?” he says. “Either my lovely wife—hello, my darling”—he turns to Alice and kisses her—“my lovely wife invited you, or you’re here to gather some dirt about the hoi polloi.”
“How many times do I have to explain that I write serious features, and that just because I’m a journalist doesn’t mean I’m interested in who Tamara Beckwith happens to be snogging right now?”
“So who
is
she snogging right now?”
“I don’t know,” Emily smiles. “But I passed her on the way in so perhaps you could ask her.”
“Aha! Caught you. I thought you said you weren’t interested in celebrity gossip, and yet you just happened to notice Tamara Beckwith on your way in. You are here dirt-mongering. I knew it!”
“Just because I have a personal interest in the goings-on of my favorite
OK!
and
Hello!
heroines doesn’t mean I have a professional interest.”
“A hack is a hack is a hack.”
“Not when the hack in question is a freelance feature writer who tends to write stuff mostly for the broadsheets, I’m afraid.”
“Children, children,” Alice chides, stepping between them as if to prevent a fight. “Will you just behave yourselves.” But she is pleased to see the gentle teasing, relieved that Emily is not being—as she can be with Joe—confrontational and aggressive.
“It’s not me, it’s her,” Joe whines before breaking into laughter as Emily elbows him sharply in the side.
F or once, Alice has fun. It is lovely to see Emily, even in these unfamiliar surroundings, and she is relaxed and happy that she is with her two favorite people in the world. Joe is affectionate, attentive, and only has eyes for her, and she finds herself basking in the attention.
Tonight she is able to truly relax, amazed that every time she looks at Joe he is not gazing at a thrusting cleavage across the room or at a pair of endless legs a few feet away. He is gazing at her.
This is why I married him, she thinks, leaning into him as he puts an arm around her waist and squeezes her tight while laughing at something Emily has said. Now I remember.
5
“ S o come on, fill me in on all the gossip.” Alice leans forward on her chair, nursing her cappuccino as Emily tries to unravel Humphrey’s leash from the chairs and coffee tables.
“Hang on,” Emily says. “Humphrey!” She drags the little terrier reluctantly back to the table, knowing that, this being a warm sunny spring Tuesday in Primrose Hill, it is only a matter of minutes before yet another dog strides past their outside table at Cacao, and Humphrey—a newly acquired rescue dog from the local animal shelter with a
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