Her New Year Baby Secret(3)

CHAPTER TWO

New Year's Eve

'THAT'S FANTASTIC, GRACE. No, of course I'm not mad, I'm really happy  for you. So when do I get to meet him? Tonight? He's taking you to the  Snowflake Ball. That's...that's really, really great. I can't wait. I'll  see you there. Okay. Bye. Love you.'

Sophie put her phone down and stared across the room. If there had been  room on the floor, she would have slumped in a dramatic fashion, but as  every inch of the tiny sitting room/dining room/kitchenette was covered  in bolts and scraps of fabric, she could only lean against the wall and  swallow hard.

Did Cinderella feel resentment when she was left alone and everyone else  went to the ball? No, she was quite happy to sit by the fire with the  mice and Buttons and weave straw into gold before letting down her hair  and eating an apple.

Okay. Maybe Sophie was muddling up her fairy tales a little.

But, crucially, Cinderella was excluded from the ball completely. How  would she have felt if she had been made to attend the ball as a  waitress and had to watch her stepsisters waltzing by in the arms of  their handsome tycoons and earls? There would have been less singing,  more teeth-gnashing then.

Not that Sophie had any inclination to gnash her teeth. She was happy  for her friends, of course she was. It was amazing that they had all  found such wonderful men and goodness knew they deserved their  happiness-but did they all have to find true love at the same time? And  did they have to find it just before the Snowflake Ball?                       
       
           



       

She sighed. Last year had been such fun, waitressing at the prestigious  event with Emma and Grace, and she'd been looking forward to introducing  Ashleigh to the glitter and sparkle that were the hallmarks of the  charity gala. The ballroom always looked amazing, the organisers ensured  there were plenty of breaks, tips were generous and there was a short  staff event afterwards with champagne and a delicious buffet. In fact  last year had been the best New Year's Eve Sophie could remember. But  this year everything was different. First Emma had bumped into her  estranged-and secret-husband, Jack Westwood, aka the Earl of Redminster,  and after a few difficult weeks the pair had blissfully reconciled.  Then Ashleigh had fallen for gorgeous Greek tycoon Lukas while  house-sitting for him. Sophie had been over the moon when her old friend  had phoned her on Christmas Eve to announce her whirlwind  engagement-she'd never heard Ashleigh sound so happy.

But she had to admit that she had been a little relieved that Grace,  like Sophie, was still single, still employed at Maids in Chelsea and  would still be waitressing at the ball. There was only so much  loved-upness a girl could take.

Only while Sophie had endured overcrowded trains back to Manchester on  Christmas Eve to spend an uncomfortable two days back tiptoeing around  her family's habitual disapproval and enduring the same old lectures on  how she had messed up her life, Grace had spent her Christmas being  swept off her feet by hotelier Finlay Armstrong. Swept off her feet and  out of her waitress clothes and into a ballgown. She would be at the  Snowflake Ball tonight, but, like Emma and Ashleigh, she'd be there as a  guest, not hired help.

'You are officially a horrible person, Sophie Bradshaw,' Sophie said  aloud. 'Grace of all people deserves all the happiness in the world.'  She'd been alone in the world, even more alone than Sophie, so alone  she'd chosen to work over Christmas rather than spend the holidays on  her own. The rift in Sophie's family might seem irreparable, but at  least she had them. Yes, Grace deserved every bit of luck and happiness  the last week had brought her.

But didn't Sophie deserve some too?

She pushed herself off the wall and picked her way over to the sofa,  resolving once again to do something about the material strewn all over  every surface as well as the floor. She did deserve happiness; she knew  that even if she didn't always feel it. Her ex, Harry, had done far too  good a job of eroding every last bit of confidence from her for that.  But happiness for her didn't lie in the arms of a man, no matter how  titled or rich or handsome he was. It lay in her dreams. In her designs.  In her... And if waitressing at this ball would help her achieve those  dreams, then waitress she would-and she would smile and be happy for her  friends even if they were divided from her by an invisible baize door.

Only...was Harry right? Was something wrong with her? Because she had  had her own little romantic adventure this Christmas, but, unlike her  friends, hers had ended when the clocks struck-well, not twelve but five  a.m. It had been her choice to creep out of the hotel room without  leaving as much as a note, let alone a glass slipper, but she couldn't  imagine Jack or Lukas or Finlay leaving a stone unturned if their women  simply disappeared without a trace. But although her heart gave the odd  unwanted leap whenever she saw dark hair above an expensive suit-which  in Chelsea was about thirty times a day on average-the last she had seen  of Marco Santoro had been his naked, slumbering torso, dimly lit by the  light of the bathroom as she had gathered her belongings together.

And okay, she hadn't looked for him either, not even when she'd  confessed her one-night stand to her friends just a few days ago. Not  only was Marco Santoro out of her league in every way, but Sophie had  allowed infatuation to cloud her judgement before. She wasn't foolish  enough to mistake lust for anything deeper, not again.

Although it had been an incredible night...

The sound of the buzzer interrupted her slide into reminiscences just as  she was picturing the curve of Marco's mouth. Sophie shivered as she  pushed the all too real picture away and picked up the answerphone.  'Yes?'

'Sophie, it's me, Ashleigh.' Her old friend's unmistakably Australian  tones sang out of the intercom and Sophie's spirits immediately lifted.  So all her friends would be married to insanely wealthy, influential and  hot men? It wouldn't really make a difference, not where it counted  most.

'Come on up.' She pressed the buzzer and looked around wildly. Was it  possible to clear a space in just twenty seconds? There was a knock on  the door before she had managed to do more than pick up several scraps  of material and, with them still clasped in her hand, Sophie opened the  door to discover not just Ashleigh but Grace and Emma as well,  brandishing champagne and a thick white envelope.                       
       
           



       

'Surprise!' they sang out in chorus, surging into the room in a wave of  perfume, silk and teetering heels. The dress code for the Snowflake Ball  was white or silver, but blonde, tall Emma had added red shoes and  accessories to her long white silk shift, Grace, glowing with happiness,  was sultry in silver lace and Ashleigh had opted for a backless ivory  dress, which set off the copper in her hair and the green in her eyes.  They all looked gorgeous. Sophie tried not to look over at her black  waitress's dress, ironed and hung on the back of the door.

'How lovely to see you all.' She narrowed her eyes at Grace. 'You must have called me from just around the corner.'

'From the taxi,' Grace confirmed, her eyes laughing.

'Congratulations again. Finlay's a lucky man and I'll tell him so when I  finally meet him. I'd hug you, but I don't want to crease your dress.'

'Where are the glasses?' Emma, of course, was already at the counter  optimistically known as a kitchenette looking in one of the three narrow  cupboards allotted for crockery and food. 'Aha!' She brandished them  triumphantly, setting them down before twisting the foil off the bottle.  It was real champagne, Sophie noted, a brand well out of her price  bracket. Funny to think just a few weeks ago they would have happily  been drinking cheap cava from the off-licence at the end of her street.  So the divide between her lifestyle and her friends' had begun. Just as  it had ten years ago when she had opted for paid work and domesticity  while her few friends went to university.

She pushed the thought away as the champagne cork was expertly popped.  'Not for me, Em. I can't. You know what Clio says about drinking on the  job and I need to be at the hotel for staff briefing in an hour.'

'Now, that,' Ashleigh said triumphantly, 'is where you are wrong. We've  asked Keisha to cover your shift and you, Miss Sophie Bradshaw, will be  going to the ball! Here you are, a formal invitation.' She thrust the  envelope towards Sophie, who took it mechanically.

'I've always wanted to be a fairy godmother,' Grace said, holding out  her hand to accept one of the full glasses Emma was handing out.

Sophie stared at the three beaming faces, completely flabbergasted as  she took in their words, the envelope still clutched unopened in her  hand. 'I'm what?'