How right she was. "Well, that's all over now. I'm here, and we are going to enjoy every moment of it. I'm recapturing my early 20s."

Both of them laughed. Sophie dusted some powder on my nose and then sat back to admire her work. "You look fantastic."

I turned to blink at Faith. "Do I look like a clown?"

Faith stared at me. "No, you look fucking amazing. Sophie, do me next."

Sophie laughed. "Come on. Come sit your pale ass on this chair and let me see if I can give you some color."

As Faith bounced into the seat I’d just vacated, I stopped in front of the mirror. Jesus Christ, Sophie had given me a vibrant smoky eye with a really pretty gleam. The lashes on my eyes absolutely stood out. Easton really didn't like how I did my makeup, it was never good enough. Never sophisticated enough. I preferred the no-makeup makeup look. He said every politician's significant other should look like she at least tried, so I needed to practice. He also had a lot to say about color and the type of women who wore red lipstick.

But this vibrant pop of color helped me take back my life.

I turned to my friends then. "You guys are absolutely right. No way in hell should I have let him stand between us. Tonight, we party. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

7

Abbie…

Apparently, I had never been clubbing properly.

The girls and I headed out with Max and some of the other models to the swank Mayfair neighborhood with its elegant row houses and gorgeous parks. The club had a name I couldn’t pronounce and a line out the door that wrapped around the block. And that was the line for women.

Staring mulishly at my borrowed heels, I'd wondered why the hell I’d let Sophie dress me. There was no way I could endure that line in the four-inch stunners. They were beautiful with their red, black, and gold-braided straps, but I’d be ready to cut my feet off at the ankle before I even made it midway through the line.

Then again, when your friend was an up and coming designer, you let her do things like dress you, even at the cost of your comfort. With the flirty red salsa dress, I knew I looked hot. Especially since the damn thing was backless. But the shoes were going to be a problem. I could just picture it. There would be Instagram photos of me running around a London club barefoot, a la Britney Spears pre-conservatorship. I shuddered.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about the line. Apparently since Jasper was the headliner and Max and one of the other guys were members of the club, all seven of us walked right in as if we owned the place. This kind of clubbing I could get used to.