Imogen said. “Seriously?”
“This isn’t a breakup,” Lainey replied, trying her hardest to replicate the positive spiel she’d practised in front of her mirror. “I’m simply suggesting a long-distance relationship.”
Imogen shook her head. “A month is not enough time to say goodbye.”
“I can’t believe you kept it quiet for a whole week.” Corinna grinned.
The three of them sat at the picnic table in Corinna’s parents’ backyard. Even though Corinna had moved out two years ago, the three women still loved to congregate at the McKnight family home, especially during the summer. Their lush, sprawling garden was filled with native trees that attracted colourful birds like rosellas and galahs. Their song usually soothed Lainey, but not today.
“It wasn’t easy, believe me.” Lainey watched the bubbles race to the top of her champagne flute. “When I booked the flight, I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. But I had to tell you both at once, and you two are so difficult to coordinate.”
Between Imogen’s long hours and Corinna’s bustling social schedule, it’d taken a week to find a day where they were both free. But that was their deal—all news had to be shared as a group. Easier to avoid the whole “three’s a crowd” issue if there were no favourites. But it wouldn’t be like that for much longer. Worry stabbed Lainey in the gut. She knew her best friends would grow closer once she left; hopefully they wouldn’t forget about her altogether.
Hence the cake. Hard to forget about a person who piped her apologies in buttercream.
“So, hairdresser to the stars, huh? Maybe you’ll end up doing the royal family.” Imogen forced a smile, but her eyes glimmered with moisture. “Well, Prince Harry, anyway. Poor old Wills hasn’t got much left. He’s already in comb-over territory.”
“I doubt they’ll let me near the royals,” Lainey said, reaching for the big knife next to the cake and slicing straight through sorry. “Besides, I’ll be more focused on the social media side of things.”
Lainey had been a hairdresser ever since she walked out of school on her sixteenth birthday. Now she had eight years in the industry, which was by far the longest time she’d ever stuck to anything. Certainly longer than her failed attempts at reading tarot cards or working as a Red Bull promo girl. Two years ago, bored and desperate for creativity, she’d started posting her hairstyles on Instagram. Within a year, she’d amassed over a million followers and had brands foaming at the mouth to work with her.
Then she’d parlayed that into a gig as a social media consultant with a well-known celebrity hairstylist in London.
“But the contract is only six months, right?” Imogen asked as she handed a slice of cake to Corinna. “Then you’ll come back?”
“I’m hoping they’ll put me on permanently.” The finality of the move settled in the pit of Lainey’s stomach.
“Of course we’ll miss you,” Corinna said, shooting Imogen a look, “but I’m glad you’ve found a way to turn your passion into a job. This sounds like an amazing opportunity.”
With the scent of eucalyptus on the breeze and the late-afternoon sun beating down, Lainey wondered if she should have picked another location for her big announcement. There were so many memories here. And, as excited as she was about her new job, the thought of leaving her best friends behind made her feel ill. Like her body physically rejected the idea of them being apart.
It’s for the best. You’ve been miserable, and a fresh start is exactly what you need.
“I’m happy for you, too,” Imogen said, her words a little blurred around the edges. The girl was a total lightweight—two champagnes and she was already entering tipsyville. “But I do wish you’d been able to find such a cool job here.”
“I need to get away.” Much to her horror, Lainey’s voice wobbled.
Imogen frowned. “Get away from what?”
A confession hovered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to blurt her secret, but what was the point? The decision was made. She was leaving in one short month, and Lainey made it a rule not to dwell on the negative.
“I just meant there are more opportunities overseas,” she said carefully. “I’m going nowhere here. Marsha didn’t seem to care that I resigned, since she thinks we’re all replaceable, and it’s not like I have a relationship to tie me down. Thank God.”
She hoped the booze would prevent Imogen from noticing how false Lainey’s voice sounded. Corinna raised a brow but mercifully didn’t press for more information.
“But you’re sworn to secrecy,” Lainey went on. “I want to tell everyone else myself.” She looked them both in the eye and smiled when they nodded. “I’d rather people hear it directly from me.”
Although the interview process for this job had been going on for almost two months, Lainey hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone until she’d signed a contract and booked her flight a week ago. Part of her hadn’t really believed it would happen. Even now, the whole thing felt a little surreal.
“Have you got a ‘before I leave the motherland’ bucket list?” Corinna asked. “There must be something you want to do before you go.”
Not something, but someone. Lainey’s move was as much about chasing her career dreams as it was about escaping the futility of her situation in Melbourne. She’d done something dumb. Idiotic. Monumentally stupid.
An action that might one day be documented in her memoir, under the title “Ways I Like to Torture Myself.”
Over the years, Lainey had developed a gigantic crush on the one guy who was totally and utterly out of reach. The one guy who wouldn’t look twice at her—Corinna’s big brother.
Worse, seeing Damian McKnight get married, divorced and then pimped out on Australia’s Most Eligible had torn her up inside. All her dreams for turning her adoration of rom-coms into a romantic reality had vanished. The only solution was to be somewhere else, so she could focus on the important stuff—like her career—and forget that she was doomed to have a miserable love life because she wanted the one man she couldn’t have.
“This is the perfect opportunity to go wild,” Corinna said. “You can do whatever you like here, then flit off to England without consequences. Surely there’s someone you’ve always wished you could have it out with. Maybe a crazy customer that you hate?”
“Or maybe I should tell your brother I think he’s hot,” Lainey said with a wink. Corinna pretended to stick her fingers down her throat, and the three women laughed.
It was a running gag—both Lainey and Imogen considered Damian McKnight to be the highest level of hotness—usually reserved for the Hemsworth brothers and Prince Harry. But jokes were the only thing keeping Lainey’s deep-seated attraction a secret—because the more she overplayed it, the less they believed it was anything serious. Therefore, she could hide in plain sight.
He was her Prince Charming, her Mr. Darcy, the Harry to her Sally. The Danny to her Sandra Dee. The only guy who’d ever truly known her.
“Speaking of Damian,” Corinna said, “did you know he scored a ticket to the Carmina Ball?”
“Wow.”
