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I give her a gentle smile. She’s always been the gentler, more innocent one of the three of us. She feels things more deeply. I try to smile, although I think it’s probably more of a scowl. Her eyes widen. It’s Stella who comes to my rescue.
“No, Nat. But Leah needs to be sensible. If Vince has been having sex with another woman, Leah needs to know he hasn’t given her anything. It’s for peace of mind.”
Stella knows how it feels. Her last partner had been messing around behind her back. She wasn’t as lucky, but a course of antibiotics had fixed her up, and made her more cautious.
I nod in agreement, and Nat’s shoulders drop as she exhales loudly. I’m so lucky to have these two wonderful women in my life.
“To hell with him,” Stella says. “We’ll find you somewhere to live, and you can give him the middle finger. Close the door on this chapter.” She grabs my hand over the table and squeezes. “There’s someone better for you out there. Someone who will adore you, not make excuses. Vince may be wealthy, but he’s a dick. He’s always been punching above his weight. He never appreciated what he had, and I hope he comes to rue the day.”
I know what she’s trying to do, but the stabbing pain in my stomach increases. It’s not only the end of an engagement. It’s the end of my dreams. Dreams of finally starting a family, having a child of my own. Children. I’m not getting any younger, and now I’m on my own. I’ve given Vince the best years of my life, only to be pushed aside without a thought for my wants and needs.
“I know,” I say, offering her a wan smile. “But it’s scary. This has been my home. Vince has been in my life for ten years. I was twenty-four when we met. Twenty-six when I moved in with him. I don’t even know where or how to start again.”
Stella gets up and moves to my chair, pulling me up and into her arms. She rubs circles on my back before pushing me away, her hands gripping my upper arms. “You listen to me, Leah Walker. You deserve better than Vincent Lamont. Yes, he might be some big-shot investment banker with more money than taste.”
I stifle a giggle.
“Stella’s right,” Nat says, shaking her head. “Vince definitely missed the fashion memo. A designer label does not automatically mean stylish.”
“Perfectly put, Nat,” Stella says. “Do you remember that florescent green patterned shirt? I can’t remember which designer it was, but it looked like someone had puked up radioactive avocado all over him.”
I bite my lip, and a snort escapes. My hand flies to my mouth, and it’s not long before we’re all doubled over, tears rolling down our cheeks.
“He never understood the importance of matching against your skin tone.”
I gasp, trying hard to catch my breath.
“Hopefully, the next man you meet will have taste.” Nat chortles.
“Some taste would be an improvement,” Stella says, moving to the wall and pointing to a picture of Vince and me that highlights her point perfectly, setting us off in another round of giggles.
“You can and will move on. You’re a strong, intelligent and independent woman. And don’t you forget it,” Stella says, sitting down again. “Now, my wine glass is empty.”
Before Nat can open her second bottle, I get up and move to Vince’s prize wine rack. I grab a bottle. “He may not have any taste in clothes, but his wine? Well, that’s another matter.”
Stella and Nat look at me and grin. Stella waves me over, opening her hand before taking the bottle I’m holding. She reads the label and snorts.
“Really? Pretentious prick,” she mutters, making both Nat and I laugh. “But I don’t mind if I do,” she adds, grabbing the corkscrew and making quick work of the offending cork.
It may be a school night, but I need to let my hair down. I hold out my glass, which Stella fills. Together we swill, sniff, savour, and swallow.
“No point in wasting it,” Nat says, giggling.
“That’s it,” Stella shrieks, making Nat and I jump. “Friday night... a girls’ night.” Stella raises her glass, motioning for us to follow. “We’re going out. Starting your new life... or is that restarting?” Stella gives me the once over. “No more loungewear or bird’s nests.”
We clink glasses.
“Why not!”
Maybe this is just what I need. “To new beginnings,” I say, holding up my refilled glass.
“To new beginnings,” my friends chorus.
“And just make sure you wear that sexy little number you bought and your killer heels,” Stella adds, winking at me over the top of her glass. “You too, Nat.”
“I’m in a relationship,” Nat says.
“It’s called moral support, and I’m sure Rory will appreciate you making an effort when you get home,” Stella adds, making Nat blush to the roots of her hair while Stella and I laugh.
