Page 21 of Play On

My foundation is half-worn off my nose, and my lipstick is smeared on the corners of my mouth. And my eyeliner and mascara? Yes, ZOMBIE.

Okay. Mum was right about not sleeping with make-up on.

But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be going out on a Tuesday night to hit Wisteria House, either.

I retrieve my facial cleanser and make-up out of my suitcase and begin the process of getting ready, with a complete redo on all my make-up, starting from scratch. I slip into the dress and heels—thank goodness I packed something fun because I wasn’tsure what Bella wanted to do for dinner tomorrow, and it’s perfect for Wisteria House.

For a moment, I picture myself walking into the bar. The last time I was there, I was introduced to Noah.

My mood deflates at the memory. Noah told me he was interested then, but I thought absolutely nothing of it when I met him.

It took his inside to intrigue me, which is the first time something like that has ever happened to me.

Yet I pushed this man away.

Okay. I need a mental do-over tonight. If a man flirts with me, I’m going to flirt back. If a man approaches me, I’m going to talk. Unlike my friendship with Aimee, I don’t have a second chance with Noah. I need to stop wallowing in thoughts of him like I’m a lovesick teen with an impossible, all-consuming crush.

Tonight, I’m turning the page.

And Noah Darby is no longer a part of the plot.

Chapter Six

Spicy Mandarin Margaritas

I step out of the Uber and a feeling of excitement sweeps through me. Wisteria House is before me, and London’s elite are queuing to enter. I smooth my hands over my dress to straighten it—I have to say, I do love the way this shimmery rose-coloured dress looks with my pale skin and red hair—and stand on the pavement. Aimee is supposed to meet me outside, as she’s coming as my guest. The usual paparazzi are here, and when flashes start hitting my face, I put my hand up to shield my eyes. I’m always baffled when they take my picture. Not that I show up that much in the tabloids—only if they are short of truly famous people and figure I can substitute because they can call me “Lady Violet.”

I smirk. Now that’s a slow day in the gossip world.

“Vi!”

I turn in the direction of the sound and spot Aimee hurrying over to me, a huge smile lighting up her beautiful face. I can’t explain the happiness that comes over me. Aimee is as beautiful as ever, with her long, wavy, champagne-coloured hair and sparkling blue eyes. I move towards her, and soon we give each other the biggest hug.

“I have so missed you!” she says.

I smile. I’ve always loved her Australian accent, and now it’s a sound that is warm and familiar, belonging to someone who was such an important part of my life just a couple of years ago.

I step back from her and smile. “I have missed you so much, Aimes.”

“I still can’t believe it’s been so long. Years,” she says, frowning. “How did we let that happen?”

“I don’t know,” I say, wishing I had worked harder to stay in touch with her. Made a point to seek her out on my trips to London. How could I have let such a good friend merely become a social media scroll?

“I feel so much guilt,” Aimee confesses. “I look at you now, and I remember how you were the friend I had so many laughs with. All the times you consoled me over a stupid man and told me he wasn’t worth breaking my heart over. I see us at uni, walking to our favourite pubs, or grabbing a cup of coffee. And now I feel sad that this is the first time I’ve seen you in nearly two years.”

“Aimee, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” I say. “I told you everything back then. We talked daily. Our text messages never ended … until one day they did. How did something so meaningful slip away from us?”

She shakes her head. “I would like to say life got in the way, but we both know we each just let it fade. That’s the brutal truth. But another truth? We both missed each other and regretted what happened. We’re excited to be here now, and I’m so happy about that.”

“Me, too,” I say happily. “Come on. Let’s get some drinks and begin catching up. It’s way overdue.”

We get in the queue and wait our turn to enter. I check in with Aimee as my guest, and soon we’re going to the bar on the first floor. As we step across the threshold, I marvel at how stunning the space is. It’s designed to replicate a garden withwisteria in bloom. The palette is green and purple, and there are vivid paintings of rambling wisteria on the walls.

It’s like stepping right inside a garden. And the last time I stepped in here, I met Noah.

No. No. No. I’m not going there.

But despite the order from my brain, my gaze drifts back to the very spot where Noah was standing when I was introduced to him. He was taken from that first introduction, where I was not.

---