Chapter Twenty-Six Gemma
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gemma
It’s Saturday night and April and Anna are coming to mine for wine, nibbles, and proper girl time.
While I’m business Gemma during the day, I’ve done my best to create a cozy environment that’s just for me outside the office. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s all mine—a place where the people I love most know they’re always welcome.
It’s a space where Anna and April can kick off their shoes, muddle up a margarita strong enough to strip paint, and belt out our favorite songs.
I grew up with a single mum who made sure my friends always knew they were welcome. My mum is kooky—of course she is, she created me—but her heart is pure gold wrapped in tie-dye fabrics and essential oils. I wanted to carry that love through to my own home.
I spent most of my morning wandering through Borough Market, collecting the good stuff—cold cuts, wedges of cheese, fancy nuts, and dried fruit. I can absolutely nail a charcuterie board.
Since the Gray Hotel campaign launched, my friends and I haven’t had as much time together as usual, especially with April and James trying to pull off a last-minute wedding—which is mental even for a rock star, but somehow, they’re making it work.
I haven’t complained about being busy because it’s given me the perfect excuse to avoid any chance of letting my and Max’s secret slip.
Every time Anna’s around, I’m shitting myself about accidentally spilling the beans.
The woman knows me better than I know myself, and I’m usually terrible at keeping secrets.
But I need to get my act together, because this secret is different. It’s not just about me.
“What does it say?” April leans over so far, her wine sloshes dangerously close to the rim.
“Shit! Watch the sofa!” I warn.
“Oops.” She giggles, carefully placing her wine beside the tarot spread Anna’s got laid out on my coffee table. Naturally, the tarot cards came out the moment we opened the first bottle.
We’re now on our second.
Anna picks up a card, squinting as she flips through The Tarot Bible to decode its meaning.
“Right,” she announces. “It says you’re a massive cunt.”
We lose it, falling into fits of laughter.
“But seriously, what does it say?” April asks, wheezing as she catches her breath.
Anna’s eyebrow kicks up. “You know this is all a load of shite, right?” She gives April a pointed look.
“It is not!” I defend. “Just read the damn meaning.”
Anna rolls her eyes light-heartedly. “The Empress basically says that you’re about to become a domestic goddess or… get pregnant… Or both.”
I pump my eyebrows at April. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Anna’s face fall slightly before she quickly recovers, forcing her expression back into a smile.
April blushes, reaching to take a healthy sip. “Clearly not,” she says, raising her glass. “But. I will just say that we aren’t not trying.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “You’re trying for a baby!?”
April shrugs nonchalantly. “I guess. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”
“That’s so exciting!” I scoot forward, wrapping April in a firm hug. “You and James are going to make the most beautiful babies,” I say.
Pulling back, I see Anna’s strained expression. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but I can tell she’s trying.
“Anna?” I venture quietly. “You all right?”
She shakes from her daze as soon as the words leave my mouth, straightening her spine and perking up. “Oh, sorry, I was in a daydream. I’m fine!”
“Is it the red wine? Sometimes it makes me gassy,” April says.
I scoff. “Doubt it. Considering the number of times she’s dropped her guts in an Uber when we’ve been drinking tequila.”
“Oh, piss off! You’re the one who farts!” Anna retorts.
“Me?” I say, hand over heart. “You wound me.”
“Yeah, well, so does your lethal arsehole,” Anna mutters.
“I’ve never had any complaints about my arsehole, thank you very much,” I say, turning my nose up mockingly.
Anna finally laughs, waving me off before pointing to my near-empty glass. “Need a top-up?”
“Sure, thanks.” I hand her my drink, and she takes it into the kitchen.
I turn to April. “Is she okay?” I ask.
“I don’t know… She went a little quiet as soon as I mentioned that we’re trying. I’m sure she’s just distracted,” April says.
“I know she wants children, but she’s never mentioned anything about her and Mason trying,” I say.
“Maybe they are and it’s not going well?” April suggests, picking at the corner of a cushion. “I hate to think she might be struggling with something and not telling us.”
“You know Anna—if she had something important to tell us, she would’ve brought it up already,” I say.
April’s voice drops. “God, I feel terrible now.”
“Hey, don’t do that to yourself.” I reach over and squeeze her hand. “You’re allowed to be excited about your future.”
April sighs. “I just want everyone to be happy, you know?”
“I know you do, hon,” I say.
Guilt floods my chest. Here we are, worrying about Anna keeping secrets from us, when I’m sitting here harboring a big fat one of my own.
If Anna is struggling with personal issues and I’m… well, shagging her brother behind her back, am I the worst friend in existence?
Jesus. What kind of person does that make me?
But no matter how guilty I feel, I can’t bring myself to say anything. Certainly not without talking to Max about it first. Then again, we both agreed there’s no point in telling Anna because he’ll be gone soon enough.
“We could be wrong. I think it’s rude to ask outright. I hate it when people ask James and me if we’re having kids—it’s no one’s bloody business,” April says, her tone slightly more hopeful. “I think you’re right. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready.”
I’m not sure if April could see the cogs turning and put two and two together about my guilt over Max, but her words soothe me, nonetheless.
Upon hearing Anna’s footsteps, we quickly shift our attention back to the tarot cards.
“Now, where were we?” Anna asks brightly as she rejoins us, placing three full wine glasses on the table.
“I was just about to tell April that I know all about her second magnesium mishap at work,” I blurt.
“What the hell, Anna! I told you that in confidence!” April squeaks, attempting to hide her grin as she admonishes Anna.
“What?” Anna says innocently, dropping to the floor and crossing her legs. “You can’t tell me something as brilliant as you shitting your pants again and expect me not to tell Gemma,” Anna says.
I swivel to face April with faux outrage.
“Honestly, I think the only person with the right to be shocked here is me. After everything we’ve been through together, you kept this absolute gem a secret?
” I drop my voice to a theatrical whisper, pretending to tear up.
“I told you about that vibrator getting stuck up that bloke’s arse and everything. ”
“Speaking of,” Anna interrupts, “Gemma, I haven’t heard any juicy dating stories lately—what’s going on?”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Quick—think of something!
“Work. Yeah, work’s been super busy. Henry and I have been pulling heaps of late nights to bring the project timeline forward, so I haven’t put much effort into meeting anyone lately,” I say.
She lifts her brow in surprise. “Huh. Makes sense. Max has been really busy too.”
My stomach drops as I rush to think of an excuse. “Yeah. Calls to New York and stuff.”
“Oh, of course, I forget about the time difference,” she concludes, nodding to herself.
“But I did try to meet this guy from KinkApp the other week. Unfortunately, his equipment couldn’t handle the job, so I sent him on his way,” I divulge, hoping that will appease her.
“That’s more like it. Atta girl,” she says, raising her glass in a toast.
April slyly nudges me with her elbow, shooting me a small, knowing smile.
I owe her one for not saying anything to Anna. As long as I keep my promise and ensure this deal remains a simple arrangement, we should be fine.
Before I can dig myself a hole, April launches into wedding mode, pulling out her phone to show us venue photos.
Thank God, because I was about thirty seconds away from having a fecal accident myself.