Max flopped on the bed, drinking another glass of champagne, watching as Chloe slid the zip up, the dress hugging every perfect inch of Zadie’s body. The zip was covered by dozens of tiny white buttons which went into tiny eyelets. Chloe knelt down to get closer, realizing that if she did one wrong, she would have to start the entire thing again.

‘You would make a wonderful lady’s maid,’ said Zadie.

Max laughed. ‘What do you mean, “would”?’

Chloe forced out a laugh. It was a joke. They were joking. But when she glanced sideways to the mirror and saw herself in her plain dress, on her knees, fixing the buttons of the girl in the designer dress holding the champagne, she couldn’t help the jolt of rage. She looked away – too quickly. Her lip brushed one of the folds of silk, leaving a tiny red smudge. She looked up to see whether Zadie had noticed, but she was too consumed with her own reflection. She could say something. In fact, because she was her mother’s daughter, she even had a little stain-remover pen in her bag upstairs.

‘All done,’ she said, looking at the red smudge. ‘You look perfect.’

‘You really do,’ said Max, leaning in for another kiss. ‘And you look beautiful, too, Chloe.’ He placed his hand on Chloe’s waist and leaned his head towards her. Her breath caught in her throat, thinking for a moment that he was going to kiss her on the lips. What would she do? What would she do if he suggested that they, all three of them, fell into bed together? A frisson hung in the air, just as it had back at Zadie’s parents’ place on New Year’s Eve. They had more of an excuse than ever, Chloe reasoned. They could claim it was a birthday one-off, that they had tried to be as daring as they always seemed to be. But his lips landed on her cheekbone before she could answer her own question.

‘Let’s go down,’ said Max. ‘Let’s get the party started.’

Zadie

While she wasn’t exactly pleased with Max’s choice to organize the party without her, Zadie had to admit he had done an amazing job. Their bedroom was divine. Earlier that evening they had bounced on the bed like children then pulled each other’s clothes off with an enthusiasm they hadn’t felt for months. Afterwards, they lay next to each other, staring up at the canopy of the four-poster. The feeling of worry and guilt had started to set in – that somehow she was going to screw the evening up for Max and that he wouldn’t love her any more if she did. These past few weeks of living a slower, quieter life had proven to her how much she needed him.