You're the One That I Don't Want - By Alexandra Potter Page 0,154

and I’ve never been happier. I’m even hoping to go part-time soon at the gallery so I can concentrate on my art. Who knows what might happen. It’s scary, but it’s also exhilarating, and that nagging feeling has gone. The part of me that always felt as if something was missing. Because finally I’ve found it. I’ve found it and a whole lot more, I muse, glancing sideways at Adam, who’s studying one of my sketches, his arm still wrapped tightly round me. Proof that dreams really do come true.

‘Well done, s K€‘Well doó€, s K€‘Wis!’

Hearing a voice, I twirl round and see my sister and Jeff. At least I think it’s my sister, because she’s almost unrecognisable. Gone is the grey pallor – her face is suntanned and covered in freckles – and her immaculate bob is tousled and streaked almost white-blonde. Even more shocking, the power suit and heels have been replaced by a pale blue silk dress and flip-flops. And is that silver nail polish on her toes?

‘You’re back!’ I gasp.

‘We just flew in from Bali this morning.’ They grin excitedly.

‘How was it?’

‘Amazing. You’ll have to come and see the photos,’ enthuses Jeff, radiating health and happiness. ‘The one of your sister doing a bungee jump in New Zealand is incredible.’

‘Kate? Doing a bungee jump?’ I stare at them both in astonishment. ‘Actually, on second thoughts are you sure you’re my sister?’ I joke, peering at her suspiciously, and Kate swats me good-naturedly.

‘Bubbles?’

We’re interrupted by Magda bearing down on us with a tray of champagne flutes. Despite a flurry of waitresses, she still insists on serving the drinks herself. ‘Who wants bubbles?’

It’s not the kind of question that requires an answer, and she thrusts a glass of champagne in each of our hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy. Not only has she saved the gallery, bought herself a swanky new apartment and is hosting the hottest exhibition in town, but she’s treated herself to a brow lift, lipo and lip implants.

Apparently Dr Rosenbaum had a three-for-two offer. Magda might be a millionaire, but she also likes a bargain.

‘How are you?’ asks Kate politely. ‘You look well.’

‘I’m wonderful, wonderful!’ beams Magda, launching into her story about her amazing rescue of the Titian, which, like all her stories, has now become so exaggerated it involves the Mafia and a possible kidnapping.

‘Wow, this is so cool!’ cries Robyn, arriving and saving me from hearing Magda’s story for the umpteenth time. She greets me with a huge bear hug. ‘I’m so proud of you!’

‘Thanks.’ I smile, my cheeks flushing.

‘I had no idea I had such a talented roommate. Soon-to-be-ex roommate,’ she corrects, and beams at me and Adam. I feel a flutter of excitement. Like I said and Li had sid , there have been some big changes since I returned from Venice, and one of them is that Adam and I have decided to move in together. ‘So how’s the apartment search coming on?’

‘We can just about afford a shoebox in Hell’s Kitchen.’ I smile ruefully.

‘Well, at least that’s your shoes sorted,’ grins Robyn. ‘That’s the most important thing.’

Adam rolls his eyes. ‘I think I’ll leave you girls to catch up. I’m off for more champagne.’

I laugh. Some things never change.

‘So what do you think of Artsy now you’ve finally met him?’ I ask excitedly, as soon as we’re on our own. I’ve been dying to ask that question all night.

‘I think he’s gay,’ she replies evenly.

‘What?’ I look at her in confusion, then follow her gaze to where Artsy is standing, his arm wound firmly round a tall man with a shaved head and tattooed forearms. At exactly that moment he leans over and kisses him.

‘That’s his boyfriend,’ deadpans Robyn.

For a second or two we both look at each other, neither of us saying anything, then burst into laughter.

‘Harold has a boyfriend?’ I giggle, shaking my head at the irony.

‘Yup, I was chatting to him earlier. He’s interested in joining my drumming circle when they’re in town.’ Robyn looks thrilled. ‘Apparently he’s amazing on the djembe.’

I look at her blankly.

‘It’s an African tribal drum,’ she explains.

‘So are you finally going to admit he’s not your soulmate?’ I raise my eyebrows pointedly.

She stops smiling and looks sheepish. ‘Well, you see, that’s the thing,’ she says slowly, winding a curl round her finger. ‘When I listened back to the tape of my psychic reading, Wakanda never said that Harold was my soulmate. She said I was going to meet my soulmate and I had to be on the lookout for a dark, handsome stranger called Harold. There’s a big difference.’ She stops talking suddenly and I see her blanch.

It’s Daniel in a dark blue overcoat, snowflakes still glistening in his hair. He’s just arrived and is chatting to his mum and Artsy. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in months. No one has. Apparently he’s been ‘away o€s been ‘aó€y o€s bn business’. Well, that’s the official line. Though judging by his expression as he glances over and sees Robyn, I’m not so sure.

‘Are you OK?’ I ask, turning back to her with concern.

‘Yeah, fine.’ She nods, obviously not fine at all. ‘I knew I’d see him tonight. I’ve been preparing myself.’

I look at her, fiddling agitatedly with her bracelets. She looks totally unprepared.

‘Why don’t you go over and say hi?’ I suggest.

She shakes her head. ‘I don’t think he wants to talk to me,’ she says sadly. ‘It’s been three months and I haven’t heard from him once.’

‘And did you want to?’ I ask quietly.

Her eyes glisten. ‘I’ve been such a total idiot, Lucy. You were right. I’ve missed him like crazy, but now I think it’s too late.’

She looks miserable and I squeeze her hand supportively. ‘You don’t know that.’

Heaving a sigh, her eyes meet mine. ‘What could possibly bring us back together?’

No sooner has she spoken than suddenly Artsy makes a beeline for us and, after a bout of air-kissing, announces loudly, ‘Robyn, I want you to meet someone.’ Before I quite know what is happening, I see a familiar figure in a blue overcoat standing next to him. ‘Robyn, this is Daniel.’

For a split second glances fly between them and they both blush.

‘Hi. Nice to meet you, Robyn.’ Playing along, he holds out his hand.

She hesitates for a moment, then takes it. ‘Nice to meet you too, Daniel.’

Their eyes meet and, still holding hands, they exchange a smile. The kind of smile you get between two people who feel like they’re the only two people in the whole room.

And all at once it hits me.

It’s not what could bring them back together. It’s who.

Artsy.

Otherwise known as Harold.

Of course. Harold was never meant to be her soulmate; he was simply the person who brought her together with her true soulmate: