Having safely undressed Stella and parked her in the spare room in the recovery position, Ana opted to sleep on the sofa rather than share the bed with Stella. Dixie wished her a hasty goodnight and Ana lay there wishing there was someone to talk to about all her doubts and fears. She checked her phone. Nothing from Rex. He must, she thought, still be mad at her decision to disappear – in her condition – across the Atlantic for the weekend. Again, and still bitterly, she reminded herself that pregnancy was not an illness. Life must go on. But the guilt was creeping and spreading, filling her. She covered her belly with both hands and comforted herself, wondering whether the embryo was still there, whether it had taken. But she knew she’d made the right decision. Stella needed her and they had to share this moment with Dixie. All their lives were at crossroads and these were the moments when friends were worth more than their weight in gold.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dixie
Dixie was surprised to find Ana up and about. The little pocket rocket was cleaning surfaces in the kitchen, running around in a sports bra and leggings, a dark ponytail hanging down her back like Lara Croft. She was humming a song Dixie recognised but couldn’t name.
‘Any sign of Stells?’
‘I checked on her earlier and she was flat out on her back, naked, snoring with one hand over her eye, the other cupping her pussy. I covered her up. She needs the sleep.’
‘We’d better wake her. We’ve got to leave soon.’
‘Shotgun I don’t do it!’
‘Bitch!’
‘It’s better you do it. You’re the host and, besides, she’s still scared of you.’
Dixie made some tea in a large blue mug and took it in.
‘Come on, Cinderella. We shall go to the ball. I need you up and dressed, casual sportswear, in twenty minutes.’
Stella groaned.
‘Come on!’
‘I don’t do sports and I am never casual.’
‘It will be worth it. Think hard bodies and an afterglow that will last all day. After that we’ve got time for a high-protein, low-carb lunch, a little shopping, maybe, if you’re good, and then, as promised, a helicopter out to Long Island before sunset. We are going to be fabulous and you need to meet minimum standards: upright, washed and dressed.’
Dixie sat on the bed beside her as Stella watched her suspiciously through one bloodshot and half-closed eye.
‘Come on, Stells. And don’t forget, tonight we have the surprise to end all surprises. Ana’s big moment.’
‘What surprise?’
‘You remember, the…’ And she mimed the words.
Stella sat up quickly, grabbed her head. ‘My god, I’d forgotten. She is going to KILL us. Literally.’
‘Only by hugging and kissing us to death.’
‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’
‘Let the cards fall where they may. Come on. That’s fifteen minutes now.’
‘Breakfast?’
‘No. Coffee and car. Come on, what I’ve got lined up for you is going to melt your labia. Seriously. Sports casual. Go.’
Dixie slapped her leg with a grin and returned to the kitchen/living room.
‘Will I be all right in this?’ asked Ana, indicating her light cotton stretch trousers, Adidas pumps and a black long-sleeved Lycra T-shirt.
‘Literally, you could have been cut out of a Lululemon catalogue.’
‘Where are we going? Are we going to walk the High Line? I read about it on the plane. It sounds amazing.’
‘Do you know me at all, Ana? Seriously. Walking, my god, no!’
Slipping into green leggings and a red spaghetti top, Dixie found herself whistling the song Ana had been humming.
‘What is that song?’ she shouted through the open door.
‘What song?’
‘That song. The one you’re singing. De-de-doop-de-da-de-doop…’ She moved to the doorway and watched Ana grimace.
‘I have no idea.’
Dixie was pretty sure she was blushing as she turned away.
‘And Stella,’ she shouted.
‘Yes?’
‘Wear a sodding bra, you old slag!’
On the corner of Gansevoort and Hudson was an innocuous brownstone frontage that led to a lift that catapulted them to the top floor. There they found a boutique gym and spa. Freddie was a member and had arranged for Dixie’s friends to be allowed to join her for the morning.
‘You cannot be serious!’ said Stella.
‘That’s about as sporty as you get, isn’t it, Stella?’ laughed Dixie.
‘They better have sunbeds and a pool.’
Dixie checked them in at reception.
‘That’s awesome. I’m Monique, if you need anything. You are in for such a treat. You’re on the sun terrace,’ instructed the unfeasibly beautiful receptionist. ‘Through the doors to the lift on the right.’
They emerged from the lift onto a hardwood decking with views across Chelsea. It was overlooked in every direction by iconic buildings. A plunge pool in the corner was rippling with what Dixie could only assume were paid extras. They looked like they’d flown in from LA. The men looked like the bastard children of Bradley Cooper and the women the illegitimate daughters of Penelope Cruz.
Dixie gave Ana a poke in the back when she saw her shoulders square, her chin lift and chest pump. ‘Later,’ she said.
‘Thank god I didn’t bring my swimmers,’ laughed Stella. ‘There is no room for me in that bowl of meat soup.’
‘Here we are,’ said Dixie.
The western half of the terrace was a gazebo. Its walls were fine linen that fluttered in the late summer breeze.
Three pristine yellow yoga mats were laid out in front of a dais where another blue mat, and four bottles of VOSS water, sat, cold enough to condense.
‘Take your places, divas,’ laughed Dix.
‘Yoga? You know I can’t see my toes, let alone touch them,’ groaned Stella.
‘We’re not here for the yoga.’
Moments later a tall muscled man appeared. Dixie had met him once before (he was Freddie’s personal trainer), but he could only be described as a gift from the gods. He was as hot as hell and as ripped as Patrick Swayze in his Dirty Dancing days. He was wearing a white linen shirt, all the buttons undone, white linen trousers that were wafting in the wind, and a gold chain around his neck. His hair was loosely tied into a man-bun. Normally the chain and the bun would be an issue, but neither Dixie nor the other girls could take their eyes off him. Every time the wind blew against his legs, his packet grew defined against the fabric. He knew it; they knew it. He was hanging freely, no underwear required.
He smiled. ‘Bonjour. I am Xavier. I will be your guide for the next hour.’
‘Oh my god,’ whispered Stella to Dixie, ‘I think I might come. That is a cum-fest.’
‘Yup,’ said Dixie, ‘that is hot flesh, ready for consumption! I guess I’ll find out how into Freddie I actually am!?’
‘Ah, les Ana filles!’ said Xavier. ‘I am here to teach you all a little bit about mindfulness and how to switch off and relax.’ His French accent was ridiculously sexy. It seemed stronger than when Dixie had met him previously.