He watched as Grace’s smile slipped temporarily.
‘Married?’ she said quietly.
Alex felt his neck flush with embarrassment. ‘I proposed to Melissa tonight.’
‘Congratulations,’ she said warmly, clasping his hand. ‘That’s fantastic news.’
Alex surprised himself by feeling disappointment at her reaction. What did you expect? he thought angrily. That she would break down and weep?
‘I mean we’ve only been going out five months; in fact it all kind of happened by accident,’ he said nervously.
‘You proposed by accident?’
‘Don’t ask. But it feels like the right thing to do, you know? She’s good for me. Even the booze ban, and the mung beans and shit. It’s good for me. Everyone needs someone who’s good for them.’
She sighed. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘No men on the horizon for you, then?’
He’d already looked at her left hand, but her wedding ring was still on her right hand as it had been in Ibiza and there were no new rings there. With a sinking feeling, Alex realised he hadn’t even thought of getting a ring for Melissa. Must get down to De Beers tomorrow first thing, he reminded himself.
‘Well, I met Julian Adler at the bar,’ said Grace. ‘He invited me to an exhibition at the White Cube. Does that count as going to see his etchings?’
‘Are you going to go?’
She shrugged.
‘Well if you do, wear that dress,’ he said, nodding at her inky-blue cocktail dress. ‘You look lovely in it.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, glancing at her watch.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’ said Alex quickly, hoping he hadn’t said anything stupid or egotistical.
‘No, no, it’s just I’ve got to get back to London. The kids are with a friend and I said I’d be back by midnight.’
Alex stood up and offered his hand. ‘Come on then, Cinderella,’ he said, leading her back towards the party. ‘Let me give you my cell number. And let’s stay in touch this time, shall we?’
‘Of course. I don’t want to miss out on a big Hollywood wedding.’
‘It’s going to be the party of the century!’ he cried and she giggled.
‘No mung beans, though.’
‘No, no mung beans. Maybe that’s what I’ll call the album.’
He gave her his best smile, but when she turned to walk away, he could feel it slowly slipping from his face. And he stood there, not wanting to go back to the party, wondering why he felt so sad.
44
When she woke up the next morning, Sasha was disappointed to find she didn’t feel any different, even if it was her thirtieth birthday. For many people she supposed three-zero was a big milestone, the end of youth or something equally traumatic, but she had felt grown up for a long time. She had her own multi-million-pound company and her picture was in glossy magazines all around the world. People knew who Sasha Sinclair was; in fact they wanted to be her. Still, she felt disappointed. Unfulfilled. But why? She had everything she could ever want. Lazily stretching her arms out, she realised what it was: there was no one next to her. She was alone.
Her bedside phone rang and she snatched it up.
‘Happy birthday,’ said a voice.
‘Good morning, Robert,’ she replied, smiling as she swung her legs out of bed and scrunched her toes in the deep cream carpet. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m on Sloane Street, heading your way.’