“And that's it. What were you talking about? Your hall is a fucking mile long. I couldn’t hear a damn thing,” he whines and drops down into the chair nearest to him.
“You weren’t supposed to. Look, things are just a bit tense and with me booking your party—” I eye him, and he smiles slowly. “I know you’ve seen the papers, not much of a surprise, huh?”
“So we can't have it there?” He looks disappointed.
“We can.” I make him a drink and set them both down, taking the opposite seat, and sigh. “I’ve been a crap friend, and I want to make it up to you.” I can’t ignore the pinch of guilt at Callan being the one who suggested the party. I hadn't even considered it or Oscar at the time. “I still have a fair bit to do for it, so I’m going to head out and crack on after this drink,” I tell him softly.
“I was pretty hurt when you got involved with Callan,” he admits, and my gut drops to my bare toes, “and I know he orchestrated it all. It’s typical Callan.” His eyes roll, and his tone lowers. “But I never expected you to fall in love with him. The man is a barbarian.” He is wide-eyed and confused.
“Not with me.” My voice cracks and I swallow the thick ball of emotion clogging my throat. My phone pings, and I pick it up to find a message from the man himself. Even seeing Callan’s name on my screen causes my chest to ache.
Party arranged. Refreshments and entertainment included.
All you need to do is get people here.
August [email protected] 8pm.
Roof garden.
C
“See.” I twist my phone, showing Oscar that Callan has taken care of it, without so much as a thought in my direction.
“You look like you swallowed a live bee,” he grimaces.
I laugh and stare at the screen.
“Yeah, I do,” I admit. I decide to leave my drink, no longer in the mood for it. “I’m going to sort my face out, then arrange the invites.”
“Want me to do anything?” My friend offers.
I shake my head and peck his cheek.
“Just turn up.” I leave him downstairs whilst I go through a quicker version of my usual skincare routine, and as soon as I’m at the foot of the stairs, he is there, ready with his phone.
“Quick, let me snap a picture for your Instagram.” He lifts, we pose, and he snaps a shot of us looking back to being inseparable. “Off to plan a party,” he says to himself, tapping away on the screen.
“See you later.” I leave him at mine. My poor car has been sitting unused for the last two weeks, but she purrs to life as soon as I get in. I want to arrange E-invites for Oscar’s birthday,and the only person I know who can arrange that is Beth Bridges. I’ve used her services before, and I’m hoping she will help me out regardless of the timing. Callan has given me less than two weeks to prepare for this, but I have no doubt the place will be packed with everyone who is anyone in our social circle.
I dial her on my hands-free whilst I’m zipping between lanes and down busy streets, but she doesn’t answer.
“Hi Beth, it’s Zara. I’m hoping you can do me a huge favour. Can you call me back when you’re free? It’s kind of urgent. Thanks. Bye.” The call cuts and I manoeuvre through the streets until I can park up. I need to get Oscar a birthday gift, something personal. I decide to head to a jewellers I know. I’m stepping through the door when my phone goes. It’s Beth. “Hi, thanks for calling me back,” I say with a smile.
“Of course, everything okay?”
“That all depends if you can help me out. How are you?” I ask.
“Good, thanks, you?”
“Yes, thanks. I need a big favour if you're not too busy.”
“I’m pretty held up at the moment. What’s the problem?”
“Oscar’s birthday. I’ve left it really late, and I wondered if you could knock up some E-invites for me?” I say in a pleading tone.
“I’m about to meet a client. Any chance you can email me over specifics, and I will see what I can do?”
“Sure, thanks.” She is a star.