"Oh no. Do I look s.l.u.tty?" I tug at the edge of the skirt. "I'll wear low heels. A scarf." I scurry back upstairs and return with a blue and white silk scarf and black shoes.

"Work shoes, Riley? Don't. Wear the gorgeous, expensive heels, be confident who you are, and sod anybody who judges you." She pushes a goldfish-bowl-sized wine gla.s.s at me.

I take a too large drink and head back upstairs reappearing with heels that will bring me closer to Nate's face, and discover my wine gla.s.s has been refreshed.

Lauren sits, her yoga pants and jacket a world away from my clothes.

"Where's Joshy?" Lauren asks.

"He just left with his grandma."

"Ohh, big night, then. Is it a date?"

"Kind of. I'm not sure."

Lauren wipes lipstick from the rim of her gla.s.s. "Lots you're not sure about tonight, Riley. Come on, tell me."

"The old problem. When to tell a guy about Josh."

"Hmm." She taps the table, then exclaims, "You haven't painted your nails!" My make-up tote is open on the table and she rummages through. "Hold your hand out."

"I had a manicure last week."

"I think you need blue nails to match your dress!" She undoes the varnish bottle and grabs my left hand. "Right, spill. Why are you worrying about telling this guy about Josh? You haven't mentioned the guy to me before so he can't have made his way up to the 'talk about Josh' rung of the ladder yet."

I manage to drain my wine gla.s.s with my free hand. "I know my rule, but I already know this guy."

She looks up. "Guy from work? To be honest that would be a good idea, I've been telling you for months it's about time you told everybody."

"Not from work. Strictly speaking." I sigh. "Aren't there any single dads I could find?"

Lauren chuckles. "Short supply and I wouldn't think a good match for you. Come on, who is he?" She pauses to refill the gla.s.ses, takes a long drink, and takes hold of my other hand, brush poised.

"Remember when I was snowed in at the pub last month?"

Lauren fights a laugh as she paints on blue polish. I pout at her. "Sorry. Yes, I do."

"I kinda hooked up with somebody."

The nail brush hovers above my middle finger as Lauren pauses. "Not... do you mean you... Who? Not the rock star!" Her mouth gapes and when I frown she focuses back on my nails.

"No, the middle-aged bar man," I say sarcastically.

"Ha ha." She wipes the varnish into the bottle and screws the lid on. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Riley. Nate Campbell?"

"We've seen each other again a few times since. Casually."

I met Lauren three years ago, when she began childminding Josh at her place but, as with anybody, I've kept my private life separate. I couldn't have her cross paths with my work, so she's been my confidante, on the periphery.

"Let me get this straight. The tour you went on with Blue Phoenix and Ruby Riot. The one I would've killed to go with you, wasn't Nate the guy who p.i.s.sed you off?" Understatement. "Or was that the other guy? Will?"

"The whole band was difficult."

"No, I seem to remember you were really upset with one of them."

More wine. I drink half the gla.s.s. I've wanted to tell somebody about Nate for weeks and the words sound wrong.

"Nate. So this guy you practically hated and avoided, you just casually decided to get into his bed?"

"We were bored. Or something. I don't know, but we just..." Lauren raises a brow. "Yeah. And we enjoyed it so we thought we'd... meet up back in London."

Lauren splutters. "You're funny. You make it sound like you enjoyed a nice meal together, not had down and dirty s.e.x with a rock star."

I gulp my wine, then say in a low voice, "We had incredible s.e.x and we've had more since."

"You never told me. Why not? Riley!"

"I haven't told anybody. It's not serious. Just s.e.x. Or it wasn't."

"But now you're going to a party with him." I nod. "A celebrity party?" She rests back in her seat and sips her wine. "Oh wow. You might want to reconsider the 'not serious' part."

"I know. This is a new direction for us, which is why I'm not sure if it's time to mention Josh."

"I'd tell Nate soon. If press gets wind you're with Nate, someone will have a dig around in your past. How long do you think until they find out about Josh? I'd give it a day. Tops."

"s.h.i.t. I didn't consider that."

"So I think you answered your own question, lovely. Best the news comes from you." She chews her lip. "How do you think he'll react?"

"That's the problem, I don't know. I can guess though, we'll probably be over soon."

She tops my gla.s.s up again. "I hope you haven't fallen for him, Riley, because if you have you might fall on your a.s.s."

"Nice, thanks."

"Just being realistic."

My head lightens with the wine and Lauren's words. I should've spoken to her about this when I came back from Yorkshire, instead of walking around in my happy, s.e.x-crazed haze. "You're right. I'll tell him tonight. After the party. s.h.i.t, I wish I'd said something before. Why didn't I?"

Lauren curls her hand around mine. "Because it's a hard topic to bring up, and you're falling for him. I can tell, haven't seen you this bright since whatshisname."

"Elliott. And look how that worked out." Elliot Cambridge, a man I dated briefly a couple of years ago. One who had a bad case of cold feet the minute I told him I had a son.

"Better to know sooner rather than later, if he's likely to drop you like a hot brick."

I smile, a smile I don't feel like giving, and finish my wine. One more night with Nate, a confession, and then Monday I tell the world.

This time I swear I will.

27.

RILEY.

I catch a cab across the city and meet up with Nate. Finishing the bottle of wine with Lauren possibly wasn't the best idea but helps with the nerves. I formulate my story on the journey.

Nate's waiting in the street, resting against the high wall surrounding the property, with his hood pulled across his face and hands in pockets. He doesn't speak as I approach, or open his arms to greet me. I could talk to him before we go inside? Sure, Riley because that's exactly the conversation you want to have in the street.

"You look b.l.o.o.d.y scary loitering like that," I say.

"Huh." He pulls himself away from the wall. "Ready?"

"I'm not sure you are."

"Why?"

I shake my head. "Doesn't matter."

Nate pushes his hood down. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I grip the wine bottle in both hands; this way I can convince myself he can't hold my hand or hug me and not that he doesn't want to. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure. Later? I'm not in the mood for heavy discussions right now. I think we had enough recently."

I swallow down the rising lump. "Right. Are you definitely okay about us arriving together? I think maybe we should-"

"Yeah." Nate turns away and buzzes the intercom.

"Leave telling people," I say quietly as the gate swings open and he heads down the path.

I'm friendly with Tegan, but we're not close. The first few months we worked together, she was new to her relationship with Jax and preoccupied enough with him not to involve herself in a close friendship. Tegan's independence and travelling leaves her with a couple of childhood friends, and she's wary of new people who want to befriend her, now she's married to Jax.

We drifted further when Tegan moved accounts at the firm, and became involved with different clients. We never moved from more than acquaintances. My reticence to become involved in people's lives, or they in mine, waters down friendships. With her connections to the band, there was no way I could be close with Tegan anyway.

Tegan and Jax's new place is a period house in the very expensive and star-filled suburb, Primrose Hill. I'm envious; I wish I lived somewhere beautiful and closer to the city, but the house prices are sky high and out of my reach. My house in Barnet suits Josh and me. I saved hard for a deposit and mortgage on the place, and I count finding us somewhere of our own to live as one of my greatest successes.

The pair are hot on security. The early vitriol targeted at Tegan drops as time pa.s.ses; the fans have accepted her, but the press still haunt their every move. Now she works in PR, Tegan has learnt to control her impulsive responses to the media and laughs off every pregnancy and break-up story.

The lack of press outside is weird; news of the party and guest list not public knowledge yet. Something else Nate and me will need to decide: how public and when. Although Lauren's right, the media will choose to tell the world about us, whether it's true or not.

Rumours flew after the snowed-in situation anyway. Nate doesn't care; last week he made a flippant comment about the press presuming he's in a relationship with every girl he screws, which pushed in an uncomfortable reminder of the Nate from before.

Tegan invited me tonight. If Ruby Riot attend any of her frequent parties, it's an automatic no from me. Time to surprise her, in more ways than one. The noise of partygoers spills from the house; a lot of guests equal less attention over our arrival.

I hope.

Tegan answers the door, face flushed and covered in a huge smile. As usual, she's dressed down but beautiful. I come across a lot of attractive people in my work, and Tegan's beauty is natural and understated. Gifted with the Hughes good looks, she's in high demand as she's also a rock star's wife, and fashion houses throw clothes at her to wear. One higher end, High Street fashion label asked her to model as the face of a new collection, but she refused. Occasionally she dresses up in designer labels for a premiere or awards ceremony and looks incredible as her height and slender frame favours their designs.

I brace myself for Tegan's reaction to the pair of us on her doorstep, but her expression doesn't change. "Hey!" she says. "Did you arrive at the same time?" She pokes Nate. "We expected you an hour ago."

Nate doesn't respond and glances at me. I return Tegan's smile and hold up the bottle of wine. "I brought wine."

"Silly. We have plenty." She waves her hand. "Come in."

The large hallway smells of fresh paint, and newly restored wooden floors shine. I follow Tegan to the kitchen and when I look behind, Nate hangs back pretending to examine a picture on the wall. I knew it. Coward.

Breathing in and out to release my disappointment, I add my wine bottle to the row on the gleaming kitchen counter. Tegan busies herself opening the wine and selecting a gla.s.s for me. The world is fuzzy and I'm more relaxed than I should be. Not good. I glance around for a soft drink.

"Here." Tegan pours a gla.s.s of white and holds it out. I take it.

The doorbell rings and Tegan almost drops the bottle. "Be right back!"

I rest against the granite counter in the huge kitchen and sip my wine. How many people are attending this party? The music and voices in the large room I pa.s.sed as we entered suggests there are already a few here.

Nate appears in the doorway, jacket unzipped, and spiked hair mussed from wearing his hood up earlier. His brow is lowered, mouth pursed. Jesus, this man, hot even when he's giving me a p.i.s.sed-off look. Always was.

"Beers?" he asks in a gruff voice.

I point at the double sink filled with ice and bottles; he approaches and grabs one. "Thanks."

Nate flicks off the top with a bottle opener, then swigs, looks at me for a few seconds, then heads back towards the door.

"Wow..." I mutter.

"Wow, what?" Nate snaps and turns.

"I thought we came here together."

"So did I."

"Then why not say something to Tegan?"

He makes a low sound in his throat. "Why didn't you?"

"Because..." I have no answer to that. "I don't know."

"Don't blame me, then. How am I supposed to know what you want me to say?"

"I don't know how you want to do this, Nate."

"Uh. Walk in there together." He indicates the lounge we pa.s.sed with his bottle. "Considering we couldn't stand to be in the same room a few weeks ago, I think that might give them a clue."