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with you two. You bring out the worst in her, for whatever reason. And it’s pretty clear neither of you like her.”
    “In Alexis’s case, I think we all know why.” I smirk at her.
    “Oh, come on, you’d feel the same way if your boyfriend refers to her as ‘the best sex I’ve ever had’,” she replies indignantly.
    Outraged on her behalf I exclaim, “Tim didn’t say that, did he?”
    “Well, no, not in so many words,” she concedes. “But he may as well have.”
    “What does it matter? He chose you. She was just a flash in the pan fling. You’re a proper relationship. Love is so much more than just sex,” Laura states.
    “Exactly,” I agree. “She’s a cheap takeaway and you’re Cordon Bleu.”
    I look over at Logan and his friend and am startled to see them now standing with Lucinda, laughing at something she’s saying as she flicks her hair, simpering at him. My belly twists as Lucinda places her hand on Logan’s arm flirtatiously and he looks down at her, smiling.
    I bury my head in my hands. We’ve just unleashed Wellington’s weapon of mass destruction on the unsuspecting Logan McManus. He’ll be left shattered and gasping for air before he even knows what’s hit him.
    A few moments of heinous flirting later, all three of them leave together. Logan looks in my direction. He has an expression on his face I can’t quite read. Is it regret?
    He shoots me a quick smile and wave as he walks out of the door.
    Where can they be going? More to the point, do I want to know?
    I sigh, turning back to my friends. What Logan McManus does with his life is no concern of mine. If he wants to spend time with one of the fakest, bitchiest, sluttiest women to ever waggle her butt across the face of the Earth in six-inch heels, who am I to judge?
    I’ve made my decision: hands off Logan McManus. I’m just a business owner trying to broker a partnership deal with his company. Nothing more, nothing less.
    So why should I feel such uncomfortable pangs of jealousy?
     

Chapter 4
     
    A COUPLE OF DAYS later I’m at the family home in Brooklyn, a hilltop suburb close to the city with views over Wellington’s beautiful harbour. As I work a lot of weekends, I tend to catch up with my family during the week. We’ve developed a bit of a regular Wednesday night dinner thing, which seems to work for us all most of the time.
    When I say ‘us all’ I mean my dad, his wife, my stepsister, and my half brother. My full-blooded brother, Jeremy, lives in Auckland, so he doesn’t count. Yes, we’re quite the modern, blended family, us Mortimers.
    My mum died from cancer when I was just a kid. We have loads of photos and videos of her, which I looked at again and again after her death. It got to the point where the line between the photos and videos and my actual memories blurred, and now I don’t know what I remember of her and what’s been put there.
    What I do know for certain, however, is when I think of her I’m filled with love, followed by a deep sense of sadness she wasn’t there to see me grow up, she wasn’t there to be my mum. To begin with her loss was a piercing, agonizing sadness. Now it’s more like a dull ache. It’s never gone away in all this time, and I doubt it ever will.
    Not being one to mess around, Dad started dating one of her friends, Jennifer, within the year, and they were married by the time I was ten years old.
    Although I got to realise the common girlhood fantasy of being a bridesmaid for them, the pretty dress and flowers did very little to appease the despair I felt inside. It was about this time I learned how to look ‘the part’: to appear as though I didn’t have a care in the world, even if I was dying a little bit on the inside. My trusty, tough, crab-like exterior was born.
    Once Dad married Jeremy and I got a new mother, although we’d both just known her as Mum’s tennis doubles partner for all our lives. She was divorced with a four-year-old daughter of her own