She and Rory had remained very good friends up to that point.
Louise had given Wesley the benefit of the doubt after that first toxic row. Yes, she’d decided, it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be jealous that she was so friendly with her ex. She had severed things with Rory, which had been hard to do and had caused considerable hurt when she had.
It hadn’t stopped there, though.
Wesley hadn’t liked Emily, Louise’s close friend, either. He hadn’t liked their odd nights out or their phone calls and texting and gradually that had all tapered off too.
Finally, realising that she had been constantly walking on eggshells and that she’d barely recognised herself any more, Louise had known she had to end things. It had been far easier said than done, though, knowing, with Wesley’s building temper, that the ending would be terrible.
It had been.
On Christmas Eve, when Wesley had decided that her family didn’t like him and perhaps it should be just the two of them for Christmas, Louise had known she had to get the hell out. An argument had ensued and the gentle, happy Louise had finally lost her temper.
No, he hadn’t taken it well.
It would soon be a year to the very day since it had happened, and in the year that had followed Louise had found herself again—the woman she had been before Wesley, the happy person she had once been, though it had taken a while.
Louise’s confidence had been severely shaken around men but her dad, her uncles, Rory, Emily’s now-husband, Hugh, all the people Wesley had been so jealous of had been such huge support—insisting that Wesley wasn’t in the regular mould men were cast from. Finally convincing her that she should simply be her sparkling, annoying, once irrepressible self.
Without her family and friends, Louise did not know how she’d have survived emotionally.
She’d never turn her back on them again.
Anton had appeared at The Royal around March and the jolt of attraction had been so intense Louise had felt her mojo dash back. Possibly because he was so aloof and just so unobtainable that it had felt safe to test her flirting wings on him.
Anton never really responded, yet he never stopped her either. He simply let her be, which was nice.
It was all for fun, a little confidence boost as she slowly returned to her old self, yet in the ensuing months it had gathered steam.
Nope!
Louise got of the bed and looked around her room. It was a sexy boudoir indeed, thanks to a few freebies from a couple of photo shoots. There was a velvet red chair that went with the velvet bedspread, and it made Louise smile every time she sat in it. She smiled even more at the thought of Anton in here but she pushed that thought aside.
In the flirting department he was divine but his arrogance, the way he double-checked everything Louise did at work, rendered him far from relationship material.
Not that she knew if he even liked her.
To Louise, Anton was a very confusing man.
Still, flirting was fun!
Not that she felt particularly sparkly tonight.
After her bath, Louise did her make-up carefully, topped it off with loads of red lipstick and then started to dry her hair.
It still fell to the right, even after nearly a year of parting it to fall to the left.
Louise examined the shiny red scar on her scalp for a moment. She could still see the needle marks. Thanks to her delay in getting sutured, the stitches had had to stay in for ten days. Unable to deal with the memory, she quickly moved on and tonged her hair into wild ringlets. She put on the Christmas holly underwear that she’d modelled a couple of months ago, along with the stockings from the same range, which were a very sheer red with green sprigs of holly and little red dots for berries.
They were fabulous!
As were the red dress and high-heeled shoes.
Hearing Emily blast the horn outside, Louise pushed out a smile, determined to enjoy all the celebrations that took place at her very favourite time of the year, however unwell she felt.
‘God help Anton!’ Hugh said, as Louise stepped out of her house and waved to him and Emily.
‘Why haven’t they got it on?’ Emily asked, as Louise dashed back in the house to check that she’d turned off her curling tongs.
‘I don’t know,’ Hugh mused. ‘Though I thought that Louise had sworn off men.’
‘She’s sworn off relationships,’ Emily said, ‘not joined a nunnery.’
Hugh laughed. No, he could not imagine Louise in a nunnery.
‘Is Anton seeing anyone?’ Emily asked, but Hugh shook his head.
‘I don’t think so—mind you, Anton’s not exactly friendly and chatty.’
‘He is to me.’
‘Because you’re six months pregnant and his patient,’ Hugh pointed out, as Louise came down her path for the second time. ‘Maybe you could ask him if he’s seeing someone next time you see him.’
‘That’s a good idea.’ Emily smiled. ‘I’ll just slip that question in while he examines me, shall I?’
She turned and smiled as Louise got into the back of the car.
‘Hi, Emily. You make a lovely taxi driver—thank you for this,’ Louise said. ‘Hi, Hugh, how lucky you are to have a pregnant wife over Christmas!’
‘Very lucky,’ Hugh agreed, as Emily drove off.
‘You look gorgeous, Louise,’ Emily said.
‘Thank you, but I feel like crap,’ Louise happily admitted. ‘I’ve got the worst period and I can only have one eggnog as I’m working in the morning.’
Hugh arched his neck at Louise’s openness and Emily smiled.
They both loved her.
As they arrived at the rather nice venue, Louise got her first full-length look at Emily.
‘You look gorgeous and I want one …’ she said, referring to Emily’s six–months-pregnant belly, which was tonight dressed in black and looking amazing.
‘You will soon,’ Emily said, because Louise had shared with her her plans to get pregnant next year.
‘I hope so.’
Louise’s eyes scanned the room. It had been very tastefully decorated—there were pale pinkish gold twigs in vases on the tables and pale pinkish gold decorations and lights that twinkled, and there was Anton, talking to Alex, who was Hugh’s boss, and Rory was with them as well.
Perfect, Louise thought as the trio made their way over and all the hellos began.
‘Aren’t the decorations gorgeous?’ Emily said, but Louise pulled a face.
‘Some colour would be nice. Who would choose pink for Christmas decorations?’ As a waiter passed with a tray, she took a mini pale pink chocolate that the waiter called a frosted snowball but even the coconut was pink. ‘They have a theme,’ she said, and smiled at Anton, but it went to the wall because he wasn’t looking at her.
‘No Jennifer?’ Hugh checked with Alex, because normally his wife Jennifer accompanied him on nights such as this.
‘No, Josie’s got a fever.’ Alex explained things a little better for Anton. ‘Josie’s our youngest child. You haven’t yet met my wife Jennifer, have you?’
‘Your wife?’ Anton said. ‘I have heard a lot of nice