Page 41 of Wife After Wife

“Cassandra, this isn’t the time or place,” Katie said. “You and Charles can talk when you get home. Which should probably be soon.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” said Megan, catching them up. Her cheeks were pink and her lipstick smudged. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up, slut,” spat Cassandra. “You wheedle your way in here with your stupid non-job so you can steal my fucking HUSBAND...” Then suddenly she was launching herself at Megan.

Instinctively, Katie moved to pull her off, but as she grabbed Cassandra around the waist, her friend pushed her away, catching her in the stomach with her elbow.

Pain shot through Katie’s abdomen, and she cried out, doubling over.

Charles hauled Cassandra off Megan, then crouched down at Katie’s side, searching her face. “Katie, are you OK?”

Cassandra’s hands flew to her mouth. “Katie, I’m—”

Charles turned on her, his expression full of disgust. “Fuck off, Cassandra. Just fuck the hell off.”

“No, I’m not all right,” gasped Katie as pain ripped through her stomach. A clap of thunder exploded over the palace, and the rain grew heavier. “I think the baby’s coming, but it’s too early.” Despair washed over her, and she began to cry. “I’m going to lose it again, Charles, aren’t I?”

“No, Katie, you’re going to be all right. We’ll get you straight to hospital, try not to panic.”

He turned to Megan. “Find Harry—be quick.”

Harry

It’s great to meet you properly at last,” said the fair-haired man, pumping Harry’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ana and Megan!”

Harry searched his memory for an ID—jacket sleeves rolled up (why didn’t he just take it off?), Australian surfer hair (no way were those streaks natural).

“Percy North, BWG,” prompted Surfer Boy.

Ah, that would be why Harry’s hackles were raised. This was Ana’s fiancé.

“Of course. Are you enjoying the party?”

“I most certainly am, Harry! The girls have done a great job, haven’t they?”

“Indeed. What’s your role at BWG?”

“Account director. I work on some really happening accounts.”

“Oh, you’re a bag carrier. What do you think of theRack?”

“Haha! Yes, a bag carrier, for my sins. TheRacklooks very cool, I’m sure we’ll be queuing up to book space. I can’t wait to read the Bowie article. Sounds like Terri Robbins-More is one mean interviewer.”

“The best there is.”

“Mean boss, too, though, apparently. Gives Ana a hard time.”

This conversation was going nowhere Harry was interested in.

“I’m sure Ana’s capable of looking after herself. And Terri is impressed with what the designers have been doing, even if she doesn’t constantly dish out the praise.”

“Megan’s done a great job this evening too,” said Percy. “You must be proud of your sister. She’s such a fun person to be around. I love hanging out at the girls’ flat. Though Ana and I will be moving in together as soon as we find a place.”

What was a woman like Ana doing with this sycophantic bore?

Looking over Percy’s shoulder, Harry saw Merry heading toward them. She looked pretty tonight, but there was perhaps too much of the blond bombshell going on. Other women were giving her the side-eye, while men were openly ogling her.

“Hello, boys!” she said.