Free Unveiling the Bridesmaid by Jessica Gilmore Page B

hadn’t always been this way; if only she could turn the clocks back nine years—although if it was a choice between getting her confidence back or her parents there was no contest. She’d happily be awkward for ever.
    Mercifully Gael didn’t pursue the conversation. He stood in the middle of the room, dominating all the space in the tiny studio. ‘Nice address.’
    â€˜Location is everything. Apparently it makes up for the lack of actual space—at least that’s what Maddison says. It’s her apartment,’ she explained as his eyebrows shot up in query. ‘We swapped homes when we swapped jobs.’ Not that Maddison was currently occupying either Hope’s home or her job; instead she was cosied up in the home of Hope’s old boss, Kit Buchanan, planning a future together. Hope had worked with Kit for three years and he had never stepped even a centimetre over the professional line but barely a couple of months with Maddison and he had given up his job and was planning a whole new life with the American. Hope couldn’t help wondering how the job swap had turned Maddison’s life so radically upside down while hers was left untouched.
    And look at Faith. Less than three months into her travels and she was engaged to the heir to a multimillion-dollar fortune, which was an awful lot more than most people managed on a gap year. What had Hope done in the city that never slept? Tried a few new bagel flavours and experimented with her coffee order. Hold the front page.
    Maybe today wasn’t going to be so horrendous after all. Whatever Gael had planned at least it would be new . Maybe this was all for the best—what was the point in bemoaning the dullness of her life if she didn’t grasp this chance to shake things up a little?
    Gael strolled over to the window in just four long strides. ‘I like it. Nice light.’ The apartment didn’t compare with his, of course, but thanks to the gorgeous bay window the light did flood in, bathing the white room with an amber glow. The window opened far enough for Hope to climb out onto the fire escape so she could perch on the iron staircase, cup of tea in one hand, book in the other, soaking up the sunshine.
    â€˜It does for me. I don’t need much space.’ Which was a good thing. A tiny table and solitary chair sat in the bay of the window, the daybed occupied the one spare wall lying opposite the beautiful and incongruously large fireplace. The kitchen area—two cupboards and a two-ring stove—took up the corner by the apartment door and a second door to its right led into the walk-in closet equipped with rails and drawers, which opened directly into the diminutive but surprisingly well appointed bathroom. Two people in the studio would be cosy, three a crowd, but this was the first time Hope had shared the space with anyone else. Unless she counted the Skype conversations with her sister.
    Loneliness slammed into her, almost knocking the breath out of her.
    Gael’s mouth quirked into a knowing smile. ‘I’m sure you don’t. More used to accommodating others than demanding space, aren’t you?’
    â€˜There’s nothing wrong with being able to live simply. What do I need? For today? A coat? Different shoes?’ She wasn’t going to ask what they were doing, show any curiosity, but she wasn’t above digging for a clue.
    Gael turned and looked her over slowly and deliberately. It was an objective look, similar to the way he’d looked at her when he asked to paint her, as if she were an object, not a living, breathing person and certainly not as if she was a woman or in any way desirable. And yet her nerves smouldered under his gaze as if the long-buried embers remembered what it felt like to blaze free.
    â€˜You’ll do as you are.’ That was a fat lot of help.
    â€˜Great.’ Hope grabbed her bag. ‘Lead on, then. The sooner we get this over