“I doubt it.” Tucking his phone away, he mustered a forgiving smile. “The message isn’t important, Aly, what matters is that you’re all right. I take it they didn’t press charges?”
“No…” Her gaze drifted past him, to the depths of the bar where Yasmin had disappeared so swiftly. If Julian was certain he hadn’t deleted it—she paused. But that was ridiculous. “You said you spent the weekend with Yasmin?” Alice found herself asking, nonetheless. “So you were with her Saturday night?”
Julian blinked, following her gaze. “Yes, we had her friends staying with us, I told you.” There was a beat. “Alice!”
“What?”
“Are you accusing—?”
“No, no,” Alice quickly backtracked, noticing the storm on his face. “I didn’t say a thing, did I?”
“But you implied…”
“Of course not!”
They paused, the space between them filled with a sudden tension.
“Yauatcha.” She changed the subject brightly. “I’ve heard so much about that place. Did you have the venison puffs?”
Julian shot her a look, but he didn’t press the issue either. “Uh, no. Yasmin did though.”
“Oh?” Alice carefully sipped her drink.
“I did what, sweetie?” Yasmin reappeared from the crowd, her lipstick immaculate once more.
“I was just telling Alice about our meal.” Julian smiled at her as she slid into her seat, but Alice noticed the harsh set of his jaw.
“Right.” Yasmin seemed equally unsettled. “It was lovely.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Alice stifled a sigh as another long pause dragged out. Next time, she would definitely take Nadia up on that offer.
***
Alice eventually made her escape with talk of early nights and buckling down to work again, but the strange tension from their evening lingered with her over the next few days. The foundation of their friendship was shifting, but Alice didn’t know quite how she felt about it—or should feel, even. For so many years, Julian’s presence had been part of the basic fabric of her life, unchanged by their slowly revolving set of relationships, but the opening of this slow rift was something new.
Part of Alice wondered if it was for the best. It occurred to her sometimes that perhaps the reason she found it so much an effort striking out to meet anybody new—and why Julian’s affairs never seemed to last more than the early halcyon days—was the comforting intimacy they had with each other. She had a male presence she could rely on, and while that didn’t provide the romance Alice quietly longed for, it had been love in one form, at least. But the more she thought about it, however, the less of a consolation Julian’s easy companionship now seemed. Perhaps her liaison with Rafael had reminded her what passion she was capable of, or maybe even the growing chemistry with Nathan heralded new, more immediate possibilities, but either way, Alice wondered if it was time to take a step back, for both their sakes.
When he called the next morning, she didn’t pick up.
Chapter Twenty-three
As Alice set about surreptitiously wooing her new clients with careful phone calls and clandestine meetings, she realized that she had, perhaps, more spirit than she’d given herself credit for. On the surface, she may be going about much the same life as before her reckless jaunt to Rome, but she was starting to see her routine wasn’t set in stone; there was, it seemed, scope for a little of her foreign flair on more familiar soil. From the spritz of perfume and those brightly colored silk blouses she now selected for work in the morning, to snatched coffee breaks with her new friend Nadia and the riskier matter of her secret maneuverings at work, Alice began the strange—yet exhilarating—task of bringing spontaneity, daring, and general hints of irresponsibility to her old, no-longer-so-predictable life.
“I just love these early watercolors. You can really see the sense of youthful naïveté in her brushstrokes.”
Alice melted back against the gallery wall as another cluster of guests strolled closer, gazing with tilted heads at Flora’s collection of paintings. It was the opening for her grand retrospective, and the sleek, airy space in Notting Hill had been transformed into a haven of floral studies, garden views, and—at last—assorted kittenish delights. It was still early, but already the gallery was buzzing with throngs of enthusiasts. The event, Alice was proud to see, was an unqualified success.
“The washed color palette is very important in her early work, isn’t it?” One of the women, middle-aged in flowing silk trousers and a fine-knit vest peered knowledgeably at the prints. Helena, the gallery manager, materialized beside them.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, polished blond hair swept back from her face in a high, tight ponytail. “You know, not many people notice, but you can see how Flora was inspired by the pale tones, giving the paintings an almost ethereal effect.”
The group nodded, but Alice hid a smile. Those pale tones that had proven so inspirational were actually the result of her father knocking a pitcher of water over on a stack of finished paintings, the night before Flora’s first-year portfolio was due. They’d dried them on radiators, and ironed the pages flat while Flora wept inconsolably, but the damage had been done; the washed effect was unavoidable.
“There you are.” Julian made his way through the sleek hair and loosely draped suits, ducking to kiss her on the cheek. “I almost didn’t see you hidden away back here.”
“I’m eavesdropping,” Alice told him. Despite her decision to detach a little, she was glad to see his face in the crowd. Still, after their last meeting, she wasn’t so quick to relax. She cast a careful eye around the room, before asking casually, “Is Yasmin with you?”
“She’s not coming, actually.” Julian didn’t seem disappointed. In fact, he appeared affable and at ease, back in a pair of his slouchy corduroy trousers and a crisp shirt.
“Oh, shame,” Alice murmured, relieved. “Everything all right?”
Julian shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t think it would be her thing. And I guess I haven’t seen you for a while—I mean, just the two of us.” He looked at her, giving a slight double take.
“Wow. You look great tonight.”
“Thanks.” Alice glanced down. After much deliberation, she’d decided to wear that infamous red dress again. “Flora insisted we go dressy,” she explained, feeling the need to justify it. “She’s around here somewhere in a full-length ball gown.”