Manolos In Manhattan. Katie Oliver
on your pregnancy,” Alastair’s wife Cherie offered. “I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you since you found out. How far along are you now?”
“Four months and a bit.” Natalie laid a hand atop the noticeable bulge of her stomach.
“How very exciting. I’m thrilled for you and Rhys, I can’t tell you. We must throw you an extravagant baby shower, and soon. Now, if you’ll excuse me‒” she touched Natalie’s arm “‒I see Mr Duncan. I need to speak to him before he leaves.”
“Of course.” Natalie eyed the film star, standing across the room deep in conversation with one of the store’s investors. “He’s charming, isn’t he? Alastair introduced us.”
“Charming, yes.” Cherie’s smile remained fixed in place as she turned to go. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Good to see you again, Rhys.”
And she sailed off to speak to Ciaran Duncan.
Natalie shivered and drew the pashmina closer around her shoulders. “Doesn’t anyone else feel the chill in this room?”
“It’s perfectly comfortable in here.” Rhys glanced at the fire burning in the ornate fireplace. He took a glass of sparkling water from a passing tray and handed it to his wife. “You must admit, you’ve got very little coverage in that evening gown.” His gazed drifted down to her not inconsiderable pregnancy décolletage, and he smiled. “And I must admit,” he added in her ear, “I like it.”
She blushed. “Rhys, do stop. Oh, look – it’s my father’s portrait,” Natalie exclaimed. She went to stand before a painting hanging over the fireplace. “It used to hang in Grandfather’s office. It’s a William Tennant, you know.”
“A Tennant? No, I didn’t know. Interesting.” He came up and stood beside her. “The movers hung it in our apartment – I’m glad we can finally move in tomorrow, and leave that blasted hotel suite – but I had it brought here for the pre-launch. It lends a certain panache, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” she agreed doubtfully. “Was Grandfather tired of looking at it?”
“No. He’s redecorating his office and thought you might like to have it. He asked your mother first,” he added dryly, “but she declined.”
Natalie studied the three-quarter-length portrait. Her father wore a stylish suit and tie and lounged back in an armchair, his expression at once smug and amused.
“He was a handsome devil,” Rhys observed. “Knew it, too, judging from his expression.”
“Oh, yes, he did. He was a wonderful father but a crap husband. He cheated on Mum, and more than once. I don’t think he knew how to be faithful.” She frowned. “That painting must be worth a fortune now.”
“I’m sure it is. Since Tennant’s death, the prices on his works have skyrocketed. Shall I have it valued?”
“Yes, perhaps,” Natalie said vaguely, her interest already waning. “One of these days. Will you leave it here?”
“No, it’s far too valuable. I’ll have it returned to the apartment first thing tomorrow.” He frowned. “Now that I know it’s a Tennant, I don’t like to leave it unattended overnight.”
She turned her eyes up to his. “I have an idea. Why don’t we leave a bit early and take it with us? We could drop it off at the apartment on our way back to the hotel. What do you think?”
“I think,” Rhys agreed as he took her arm and drew her towards the door, “that’s an excellent idea.”
After the party, Holly accompanied Chaz to his third-floor walkup in Brooklyn. She sat next to him on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, watching “The Voice” on TiVo. Before she’d left the party, Jamie told her that he’d be late getting home and to have fun with Chaz, and he’d see her later.
If, Holly brooded, she was still awake by the time he returned after clearing up after the pre-launch party.
She set the bowl aside with a sigh. It wasn’t Jamie who troubled her right now. Guilt gnawed at her, and had done since she’d accepted Ciaran’s invitation to spend the day with him.
“Chaz,” she said now, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh? What’s that?” His eyes were riveted on Christina Aguilera’s dress as he munched on popcorn. “Never mind, I know what it is – you’re in love with me, so much so that you’re willing to settle for a sham marriage to a gay man.”
“No. Although that’s not a bad idea,” she mused. “At least it’d get Mum off my back. I told her no one gets married before thirty anymore. I don’t know why she’s always pushing me about the wedding, anyway.”
“Christina should so stick to the vintage look,” Chaz murmured, and thrust another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “The Rita Hayworth thing really works for her.”
Holly frowned. “Chaz, are you even listening to me? I’m trying to talk to you here.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and hit ‘pause.’ “Okay, I’m all yours. Well,” he added with a smirk, “as much as I can be.”
“Look, Chaz, I know you like Ciaran—”
“Like?” he interrupted. “‘Like’ is hardly the word for what I feel for Ciaran.”
“‒and so I hate to tell you this,” she forged on, “but I can’t not tell you.” Holly bit her lip. “He asked me to spend the day with him tomorrow.”
Chaz blinked. “He did?”
“Yes. And I told him I’d go. It’s for publicity, that’s all,” she rushed to add. “But I know you like him, and, well...you’re not mad at me for saying I’d go, are you?”
He was silent. “Of course not,” he said, and brushed stray popcorn kernels from his lap. “You’d be crazy not to go.”
“You don’t want me to go,” Holly said. “I’ll tell him no.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He flopped back against the sofa cushions. “It’s time I got over my crush on Ciaran and met someone. Someone real. After I lose fifteen pounds,” he added bitterly.
“You’re not fat.” They’d had this argument many times before.
“No, but I’m not Ryan Gosling, either. I’m Seth Rogen...before he lost weight.”
“Stop.” Holly tossed a throw pillow – bright orange and round – at him. “No pity parties allowed tonight.”
Chaz caught the pillow and turned it around and around, his expression shuttered. “I never told you this, but I used to be best friends with this kid, Ted. We did everything together – Scouts, science projects, hung out on the weekends. Halfway through seventh grade he found out I was gay. I don’t know how he found out, or who told him, but it was like I suddenly had a communicable disease. He never talked to me again.” He tossed the cushion aside. “He wouldn’t even sit next to me on the bus. If we passed each other in the halls, he crossed to the other side. I felt like a – like a ghost.”
“He was a jerk.”
He looked up at her, his eyes dark with remembered pain. “It really hurt, Holly. I was the same person. Nothing changed. But after Ted found out I liked guys, not girls...everything changed.”
“He was a knob,” she said, her words firm. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for. You’re funny, and smart, and Rhys says you’re the best personal assistant he’s ever had—”
“Oh, please,” he groaned, “don’t start telling me how wonderful I am, and how I’ll make some guy really happy one day. Right now I just want to