small greasemark from helping Ollie give Mickey Finn an oil change, but decided to ignore it.
'I think you'll like this place.' Georgina started across the room. 'The maître d's always extremely nice to us.'
Meg threw back her drink in a hurry and grabbed her bag so she could catch up. 'Who'd have guessed you'd be the first one of us to get knocked up? Assuming Rowan doesn't have kids. Wasn't a shotgun wedding, was it?' she suggested flippantly. 'Didja wanna or didja have to?'
Georgina turned her head, looking put out. 'Of course I wanted to. Give me credit for some class.'
'Just funning,' Meg said lightly. Unseen by their friend, she crossed her eyes at Jen, who almost laughed out loud. Provoking Georgina had always been one of Meg's favourite pastimes. It was mad to think they'd been separated for over a decade and now here they were obediently trotting after their bossy friend. There was an odd yet amusing familiarity about the way they'd picked up their old roles.
'I can't get over how amazing you look.' Jen gazed up at the towering Georgina, whose face flushed with pleasure.
'Thanks. I thought you might have sprouted a couple of inches but you're still a shrimp, I see. I always felt such a giant next to you.' Her hands smoothed her belly, and somehow Jen knew she was remembering how large she'd been. 'Still haven't taken to high heels?'
'I can't walk in the things.' Jen had never cared for small talk, especially when the topic was how small she was – unless she was making the jokes. 'Don't you remember me wearing one-inch Cubans when we went to see Ibsen's Ghosts? I fell flat on my face in Soho and my knee bled buckets through the whole performance.'
'Not really.' Georgina grimaced. 'School was definitely not the happiest days of my life. I've done my best to forget it.'
That was a conversation-stopper. What were they supposed to talk about for the next twenty-four hours, Jen wondered.
'You don't know what you're missing, Jen.' Meg swayed her hips as they entered the restaurant. 'Nothing like a pair of stilettos to make guys buckle at the knees. Especially when you're wearing nothing but stilettos.'
The last line was delivered just as they reached a tall thin man who was presiding over the reservation book. Meg shot him a winning smile and Jen stifled a giggle. Georgina coughed loudly as if it could drown out her friend's indiscretion.
'Good evening, Roger,' she said. 'The fourth of our party's not here yet. Would you be so kind as to show her to our table when she arrives?'
'Of course, Ms Carrington. Now if you'd like to follow Edward,' he said, waving over their waiter.
'Ms Carrington, eh?' Meg said pointedly, as they followed the waiter through the dining room. There were flickering candles on every table – a huge stone hearth cried out for a pair of Irish wolfhounds. The starched white tablecloths stood out brilliantly against the deep red walls and stained walnut beams. The whole room shrieked opulence and history.
'I kept my name when I married.' Georgina lowered herself into the chair the waiter had deferentially pulled out. She shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. 'Perhaps we should nibble on some appetisers while we're waiting?' She glanced at the silver watch bracelet on her wrist. 'I'm surprised Rowan's not here yet. Especially since she arranged this. And I really can't stay out late. I'm being picked up later.'
'You aren't staying here then?' Jen asked, taken aback. She'd imagined them chatting till sunup, breakfast with Bloody Marys, a country stroll. And even before Rowan could come bursting through that door, full of apologies and excuses, one of them was abandoning their plan.
'Sorry. I wanted to,' Georgina apologised. 'But I honestly wouldn't be any fun. I'm vomiting night and day, my hormones are haywire, my brain's full of cotton wool and I'm limp with exhaustion. And all this right when Giordani Designs needs every scrap of my energy.' She leaned over and grabbed their
'I think you'll like this place.' Georgina started across the room. 'The maître d's always extremely nice to us.'
Meg threw back her drink in a hurry and grabbed her bag so she could catch up. 'Who'd have guessed you'd be the first one of us to get knocked up? Assuming Rowan doesn't have kids. Wasn't a shotgun wedding, was it?' she suggested flippantly. 'Didja wanna or didja have to?'
Georgina turned her head, looking put out. 'Of course I wanted to. Give me credit for some class.'
'Just funning,' Meg said lightly. Unseen by their friend, she crossed her eyes at Jen, who almost laughed out loud. Provoking Georgina had always been one of Meg's favourite pastimes. It was mad to think they'd been separated for over a decade and now here they were obediently trotting after their bossy friend. There was an odd yet amusing familiarity about the way they'd picked up their old roles.
'I can't get over how amazing you look.' Jen gazed up at the towering Georgina, whose face flushed with pleasure.
'Thanks. I thought you might have sprouted a couple of inches but you're still a shrimp, I see. I always felt such a giant next to you.' Her hands smoothed her belly, and somehow Jen knew she was remembering how large she'd been. 'Still haven't taken to high heels?'
'I can't walk in the things.' Jen had never cared for small talk, especially when the topic was how small she was – unless she was making the jokes. 'Don't you remember me wearing one-inch Cubans when we went to see Ibsen's Ghosts? I fell flat on my face in Soho and my knee bled buckets through the whole performance.'
'Not really.' Georgina grimaced. 'School was definitely not the happiest days of my life. I've done my best to forget it.'
That was a conversation-stopper. What were they supposed to talk about for the next twenty-four hours, Jen wondered.
'You don't know what you're missing, Jen.' Meg swayed her hips as they entered the restaurant. 'Nothing like a pair of stilettos to make guys buckle at the knees. Especially when you're wearing nothing but stilettos.'
The last line was delivered just as they reached a tall thin man who was presiding over the reservation book. Meg shot him a winning smile and Jen stifled a giggle. Georgina coughed loudly as if it could drown out her friend's indiscretion.
'Good evening, Roger,' she said. 'The fourth of our party's not here yet. Would you be so kind as to show her to our table when she arrives?'
'Of course, Ms Carrington. Now if you'd like to follow Edward,' he said, waving over their waiter.
'Ms Carrington, eh?' Meg said pointedly, as they followed the waiter through the dining room. There were flickering candles on every table – a huge stone hearth cried out for a pair of Irish wolfhounds. The starched white tablecloths stood out brilliantly against the deep red walls and stained walnut beams. The whole room shrieked opulence and history.
'I kept my name when I married.' Georgina lowered herself into the chair the waiter had deferentially pulled out. She shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. 'Perhaps we should nibble on some appetisers while we're waiting?' She glanced at the silver watch bracelet on her wrist. 'I'm surprised Rowan's not here yet. Especially since she arranged this. And I really can't stay out late. I'm being picked up later.'
'You aren't staying here then?' Jen asked, taken aback. She'd imagined them chatting till sunup, breakfast with Bloody Marys, a country stroll. And even before Rowan could come bursting through that door, full of apologies and excuses, one of them was abandoning their plan.
'Sorry. I wanted to,' Georgina apologised. 'But I honestly wouldn't be any fun. I'm vomiting night and day, my hormones are haywire, my brain's full of cotton wool and I'm limp with exhaustion. And all this right when Giordani Designs needs every scrap of my energy.' She leaned over and grabbed their
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