Free Christmas at Tiffany's by Karen Swan Page A

of you, Cassie.’
    ‘You’d better believe it, Brett ,’ Kelly said, snaking her arm through Cassie’s. ‘You only get to her through me, understand?’
    The man beamed. ‘Well then I guess I’d better take your card, Kelly.’
    He held out a hand.
    ‘If it’s the only way to get rid of you,’ Kelly said, sighing wearily and fishing one out of her bag.
    He read the details. ‘Well, Kelly Hartford, now I know how to get hold of you – both of you – I’ll keep my eyes peeled. For Prince Charming, I mean.’ He slipped the card into his pocket. ‘Have a nice night.’ And he stepped back into the crowd.
    Cassie watched him go and clocked all the other girls’ eyes following him as he moved past them. ‘D’you think he’ll call?’ she asked.
    ‘Probably,’ Kelly muttered, refusing to watch. ‘But we won’t hear of it.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I gave him an old card. All the numbers have changed. He’ll get the message soon enough.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, you need to be a bit more discerning,’ she reproved. ‘You were giving him eyes the whole time, encouraging him.’
    ‘I was not.’
    ‘Yes you were.’
    Cassie’s shoulders sagged. She felt drunk, and now confused. ‘Well, I mean, he was pretty cute. And . . . isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing? Meeting other men and flirting?’
    ‘Flirting? Honey, you were way out of your depth with him. If I hadn’t been here, he’d have had you in a cab by now and halfway back to his place. No. No. No. It’s way too soon for any of that. You’re still in shock, whether you realize it or not. For now it’s enough just to be back out in the world again, expanding your horizons. All the other stuff can happen later when you’re back on your feet. Maybe when you get to Paris. ’
    ‘ Paris? ’
    ‘Sure. Anouk says she knows someone who could give you your confidence back. You know, woo you, not just seduce you.’
    Cassie looked at her, appalled that her recovery was being micro-managed to this degree.
    ‘What? Don’t look at me like that! You wanted us to help you. That means protecting you, as much as directing you. Just let us do our jobs, okay?’ Kelly said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘Come on, let’s dance again.’
    Cassie shook her head. ‘Honestly, I can’t. I’m not used to balancing my body weight on the balls of my feet. I’m in agony.’
    ‘But this is the best song!’ Kelly protested.
    ‘That’s fine. You go. I’ll sit down and watch from here. I’ll protect our drinks,’ Cassie said firmly, putting her hands around the two pink-filled glasses.
    ‘Well, don’t go anywhere,’ Kelly warned, swaying off towards a group of acquaintances in the centre of the dance floor.
    Cassie watched her from the sidelines, feeling envious at how easily Kelly integrated herself into the group, dancing sexily, a ready smile on her face. Cassie felt like the proverbial wallflower by comparison. She still danced as if it was the nineties and got drunk on sugary drinks that only looked right with umbrellas stuck in them. Even worse, the Brooklyn hen party had spotted that her bar table – with only Cassie sitting at it – was available, and the hens were beginning to surround her and talk over her, in the clear hope of forcing her to move.
    ‘Hi.’
    She turned and saw that Henry was standing behind her. He leaned over to kiss her hello. He was wearing a navy shirt and jeans and the lights kept bouncing off his hair, making it appear more golden than it had the other morning. She wondered whether his knees still hurt.
    ‘Hi! Where’s Tracey?’ she asked, looking around him.
    ‘Lacey,’ he corrected.
    ‘Sorry, Lacey.’
    ‘She’s on her way. She’ll be here any minute.’
    ‘Great. I can’t wait to meet her. Have you got a drink?’
    His eyes fell to the pink glasses in her hands and Henry held up his beer protectively.
    ‘I almost walked right past you,’ he shouted. ‘I can’t believe the change in