Page 41 of The Best Friend
‘Your hair’s still damp,’ I say, getting a waft of citrus shower gel. ‘You’re making the pillow all wet.’
Jared slides a hand down over my bare skin. I mould my body to his, briefly forgetting all about damp pillows and needy friends.
Seventeen
‘Cheers!’ We raise our fizzing glasses towards Jared. He’s standing by the window staring at us, the blue of the harbour and the sky behind him, the midday winter sun casting a halo around his smiling face.
‘I just want to say a huge thank you to all of you for joining me inCreate, my new venture,’ he says. ‘Sorry,ournew venture. I hope we’ll be a successful and happy agency, and that we’ll be here for many years to come.’ He raises his glass again. ‘To success and happiness atCreate.’
‘Success and happiness atCreate!’ we echo, sipping at our champagne.
We had Beth look over Mike’s contract for the offices, and she declared it all legitimate and above board.Generous, she said, only tweaking a couple of minor clauses. So, here we are a few weeks later having a celebratory lunchtime launch party.
‘I’d also like to thank my beautiful wife, Louisa,’ Jared adds, ‘for supporting me in this wild and crazy dream. I’m doing this for her and for our son. To the beautiful Louisa!’
‘The beautiful Louisa!’ I redden as everyone turns to face me, glasses aloft, feeling something of an imposter. I didn’t exactly support Jared in his dreams of starting his own business. But, now that it’s here, of course I want him to succeed. I nod awkwardly, unsure about whether you’re supposed to drink to your own health or just stand there letting others do the drinking. I take a sip anyway, needing another slug of alcohol to calm my turbulent thoughts.
‘Lastly,’ Jared continues. ‘I want to thank our landlady and great family friend, Darcy. Please raise your glasses to the fabulous Darcy Lane.’
‘To the fabulous Darcy Lane!’ we cry.
My eyes swivel from Jared to Darcy. She’s standing off to the side, a shaft of sunlight illuminating her like a spotlight on the star of the show. Dressed immaculately in a cream trouser suit, her blonde hair gleams, and her features dimple prettily as we toast her generosity and friendship. She steps out of the spotlight and into Jared’s embrace. They kiss on the cheek and she whispers something to him that makes him throw his head back and roar with laughter.
My heart twists with a familiar pain. One I’ve tried to swallow down for several weeks now. Ever since my husband started spending most of his evenings running with her, consoling her, laughing with her. But I only have myself to blame. Wasn’t it I who suggested it in the first place? I have nothing to be jealous of, I tell myself. My husband still loves me. He still comes home to me each night. Nothing has happened with Darcy, and there’s no hint that Jared is bored with me. So why then does my heart beat erratically and my insides turn over every time I see them together or think of them being together?
Mike isn’t here. In fact, we haven’t seen him since he left Darcy. Initially, Mike’s absence worried Jared, but Darcy has managed to handle all his business queries, so far.
The toasts are over and someone cranks the music up. I introduce myself to a couple of Jared’s new employees and we make polite conversation about the stunning location of the offices and how wonderful it will be to work here overlooking the quay and the harbour beyond. All the while, I have my eye on Jared and Darcy who are laughing with a cluster of young guys in suits. They look like the perfect couple. Him, tall and dark, ambition oozing from every pore. Her, fair and slender, expensively sleek. I feel dowdy by comparison.
Back when I was in my twenties, my wild auburn curls used to make me the cool, quirky one who everyone wanted to hang out with. Smart and edgy. Boho chic personified. I was a journalist with things to say. Now, I’m old-fashioned and irrelevant. I don’t belong to this glamorous world of ad campaigns and designer offices. I’m simply Jared’s wife. The mother of his son. I’m not… good enough.
I glug down the rest of my champagne and cast about for a waitress to top me up. A wooden tray floats past, laden with warm, bite-sized fish canapés. I grab two and shove them both into my mouth at the same time, chewing but not tasting, flaky pastry sticking to my lower lip and chin. I wipe it off with the back of my free hand just as Darcy approaches.
‘Hey, sweetie,’ she says, her air kisses hovering metres from my pastry-flaked, salmon-breath face.
I swallow my mouthful too quickly and plaster on a smile. ‘Hi.’
‘You look so pretty in that dress,’ she says.
I dip my head in thanks, even though I know for a fact I look awful. That my dress is too tight. That my arse looks like a shelf you could rest your drink on, and my stomach is only semi-flattish because I’m wearing a pair of Spanx two sizes too small to suck everything in.
‘You look stunning as always,’ I reply. ‘Thanks again for the opportunity with the offices and everything. Jared really loves this place.’
‘Good,’ she says. ‘I’m sure he’ll be really successful.’
‘How areyoudoing?’ I ask, lowering my voice. ‘Any news with Mike?’
A cloud passes across her face and she shakes her head. ‘He’s saying he wants a divorce.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I feel stupid for envying her style and looks earlier. She’s losing her husband – her family is breaking apart and I’m worrying about my dress being too tight.
‘I’m not accepting it,’ she says. ‘I’m going to do everything I can to get him back, Louisa.’
‘Good,’ I say. ‘I really hope you two work it out. Mike’s an idiot for leaving you.’
She smiles. ‘You’re sweet to say so.’
‘Can I get you a top up?’ I ask.
