“Oh, Maxie!” Zara coos at her son. I turn to see him sitting on the floor, all chubby legs and rosy cheeks, his smile wide as he waves a sheet of tissue around his head, crinkling it in his plump fists. He’s completely adorable, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s wide brown eyes. I grin, wandering over to crouch down next to him.
“All the toys in the world and all he wants is tissue paper, huh?”
“That’s kids for you.” Zara smiles fondly at him. “At least it’ll keep his hands off those dresses.”
A rack of gowns is nearby. The tissue is from some of the packing; we’ve already had to move the designer shoes out of Max’s reach. His teeth are coming in, and while he’s gorgeous, neither Zara nor I fancy having teeth-marks on our footwear for the evening.
Tonight is the big anniversary celebration for the MZM Foundation, a combination fundraiser and publicity event, covering all the work that’s been done over the past year. I’m attending in my role as an official ambassador for the foundation. I might not be able to surf, not yet, but at least I can do this.
“When’s the make-up artist coming?” Zara turns to the stylist, who is carefully inspecting the rack of gowns.
“She should be here soon,” the stylist says. “Mrs Brandon, have you decided which one to wear?”
“I think the red.” She shoots me a twinkling glance. “Myles likes me in red.”
“Myles likes you in anything.” I grin back.
Zara’s satin hair is already pulled into a smooth chignon, a diamond flower pinned at the side catching the light as she plays with Max. She and I are both wearing soft fluffy robes, our nails freshly manicured. My hair is pulled back from my face by two emerald combs, and falls loose down my back. Zara loaned me the combs, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask if they were real emeralds.
I wiggle my hand at Max and he grabs one of my fingers, pulling it towards his mouth. “Oh no, you don’t,” I say, pulling it back before he can wreck my nails. I tickle him and he giggles again, wriggling his little body.
The door opens and Myles comes in, looking sharp in a classic tuxedo, tailored to his tall muscular frame. Zara’s face lights up and she stands, going to him. “You look nice,” she breathes as he pulls her into his arms, kissing her.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead on hers.
“Oh, I haven’t even had my make-up done yet.”
“Like I say: beautiful.”
I look away, not because it’s intimate, even though it is, but because I don’t want to be reminded what it was like, to love and be loved in return, unconditionally.
I miss Axel, still. I think I always will.
ChapterForty
Jade
There’s already a crowd outside the Met when we arrive. The foundation has attracted a lot of positive buzz, as have the big names attending tonight.
Famous surfers, of course. But also musicians, actors, politicians and socialites, all eager to be part of the drive to save our most precious places. Excitement curls in my stomach as we pull up outside. Phone cameras flash from the excited crowd, more flashes from the bank of photographers, while spotlights reflect off the clouds, the building lit up like a Christmas tree.
I get out of the limo first. It’s only right that I go ahead of Myles and Zara, so they can make their big entrance together. I walk up the red-carpeted stairs, the pale green satin of my evening gown swishing around my legs. I pause for photographs, pasting on a smile, even though I feel more alone than I ever have. I asked Jasper to come with me tonight, as my date, but he wasn’t able to make it, away on a sports weekend. But he’s not really who I wish was next to me.
A cheer goes up from the assembled crowd, and the photographers turn their attention away from me. Myles and Zara have exited the limo, Myles holding Zara’s hand while she fluffs out the full skirt of her red gown. It’s too much. Watching Myles smiling at Zara as though she’s his entire world makes me realise, even more than before, that Axel Black was not my rebound. He could have been so much more. But now he’s gone.
I step through the doors into the foyer, which is filled with people in evening wear. I spot famous faces I recognise, smile at a few people as I make my way through the crowd. I need a drink.
Then I spot a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a dark tuxedo. His golden hair brushes his collar, and he’s leaning in close to a beautiful dark-haired woman in a sequinned navy-blue gown.
I stop dead.
It’s Zach.
Fuck. Why didn’t I realise he’d be here tonight? And whywhywhy didn’t Zara warn me? Panic churns in my belly and I turn away, pushing through the crowd towards an alcove which leads to the ladies.
I push the door open, and it almost hits a girl on the other side.
“I’m so sorry!” I pull back to let her pass. She’s gorgeous, another brunette, dressed in floor-length cream lace.
