‘But it’s ruining my life!’ wailed Simi.

‘Says the woman who’s about to fire her.’

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘If you want that to go well, make nice now. Find her. Say sorry,’ said Jemima shoving Simi off. ‘I have to mingle.’

Simi plonked her glass down.

‘Fine – Oh mini pizzas. Cute!’ she said as she moved off into the crowd.

Jemima watched her leave. Simi and Meagan had fallen out before but always made it back. She just hoped Meagan could make room for this new Simi who spoke up for herself. While Simi circled with her olive branch, Jemima steeled herself for the task ahead. She hated the grubby business of networking but Shaheena had insisted. She swiped a glass of prosecco from a drinks waiter and began her tour of duty.

An hour later and Jemima was networked-out having spoken with everyone Shaheena had instructed her to. However, now that business was over, she wanted to find Simi and Meagan who had hopefully buried the hatchet. And more importantly, she wanted to spend time together as a trio. They hadn’t done that in over a week. She wanted to enjoy this time, a time when they didn’t know about the book, where it was just them being mates, how things used to be.

‘Watch out, hot coffee,’ said a voice behind her.

Jemima froze. She knew it was Chance.

‘Hey!’ He beamed giving her a hug.

Tensing, she hugged him back.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, anxiety radiating from her like solar flares.

This was more worlds colliding than she could handle.

‘I’m with Pete,’ said Chance. ‘Wait, are Hudson Hicks your publishers?’

Jemima gave serious thought to lying.

‘Yes.’ She confessed.

‘Wow. How come you never said?’

‘Well, you know, Pete’s all the way over there in autobiographies and I’m here in female-led insurance-based thrillers for the 25 to 45-year-old demographic – different worlds,’ Jemima gabbled with a nervous chuckle.

Chance grinned.

‘You’re hilarious. Wait ’til I tell Pete. He’ll be stoked,’ he said pointing over to a pink Black Jack table in the corner.

Jemima spotted Lula first, then Pete’s walking stick, and then Pete. Even from across the room she could see the family resemblance. Though Pete was stockier than Chance, he had the same Mediterranean complexion and of course that same killer smile. Just then Pete threw his arms up in celebration, folding them around Lula. He’d clearly won at the table and even though they were only playing for tokens, from his smile you would have thought he’d won the lottery. Even unadulterated delight ran in their family.

Chance turned back to Jemima.

So, listen I feel like I’m always apologising but I am genuinely sorry about the other night. I spoke out of turn,’ he said.

‘It’s fine. Really.’

‘It’s not. Who am I to tell you about your friends or your book? Am I forgiven?’ Chance said placing his hand on his heart with a boyish grin.

Jemima leaned in. ‘It’s finished.’