The Liberation of Alice Love Read Online Free PDF

learned that lesson years ago. If they were interested, they would do something about it, and if they didn’t—well, then they clearly didn’t care enough to waste her time wondering over them. It was simple, far simpler than any books or magazines or even her friends would admit. Believing otherwise, she knew, would only leave her feeling an ache every night, absence like a physical form in the empty bed beside her.
    Alice turned the music a little louder and went back to work.
    ***
    She had almost untangled the mess of an option clause a producer had tried to slip through when her business line lit up. Alice reached for it absently, still scribbling in the margins when she heard her stepsister gush, “Sweetie, hi!”
    “Flora?” she stopped, surprised. “Is everything OK?”
    “Hmm? Oh, I’m fine.” Her voice was light. “How are you?”
    “I’m…good.” Alice frowned. She and Flora usually kept up with brief, infrequent emails, and she had only seen her a couple of days ago. “It was a lovely party, really beautiful.”
    “Thanks!” Flora exclaimed. “It was pretty, wasn’t it? Ginny asked for the decorator’s number, and oh, those éclairs! You were right about them,” she giggled. “I found the tray of uneaten ones and couldn’t help myself. I think I ate at least five!”
    “Oh, dear,” Alice murmured.
    “It was awful,” Flora chatted away merrily. “I woke up feeling like such a pig. But Sascha sent me over details of a great detox. You consult with a nutritionist and get rid of all processed sugars and carbs.”
    “That’s…nice.”
    “Stefan’s working round the clock again!” Flora chirped. “But he’s promised me a holiday soon, somewhere with sparkling white beaches and no phone lines at all.”
    “Mmm-hmm.” Alice’s gaze drifted back to her desk. Now, if she could just change the section on intellectual property rights…
    “The Caribbean, maybe, or somewhere in South America. I don’t know about hurricanes, but Nathan talked about this little place—”
    “Nathan?” Alice snapped back to the conversation. “What did he say? I mean”—she forced herself to sound more casual—“we chatted for a while, I think. He’s the American, isn’t he?”
    Flora wasn’t fooled. She let out a squeal of excitement. “Ooh! Do you like him? Do you want me to fix you up? I could put a dinner party together, or talk to him for you, or—”
    “No!” Alice yelped. She had a sudden flash of Flora running around, gossiping to Stefan, or worse still, to Nathan. Her stomach lurched. “I mean it, Flora,” she said quickly. “We only talked for a minute; you’re getting carried away.”
    Flora sighed. “But—”
    “No,” Alice said sternly. “Promise me?”
    “Promise,” Flora muttered. “But we should still have dinner, the two of us. Or lunch sometime. Or drinks!”
    “That sounds, nice,” Alice replied slowly. “Why don’t you email me over the date? I’m on my way out for lunch now, but I’ll let you know.”
    “OK!” Flora sounded far too excited. “Will do!”
    Hanging up, Alice pulled on her jacket and hurried down the stairs, as if leaving right away would make her excuse to Flora less of a lie. Their office was tucked away just off Carnaby Street, and as Alice fell into step with the rest of the tourists and midday shoppers, she tried to shake off a slight sense of unease at Flora’s sudden avalanche of invitations.
    The two of them had never been close. The year her father met Jasmine, Alice left for university, and having spent her adolescence making sure he surfaced from his current historical obsession long enough to eat and occasionally sleep, it was a relief to hand responsibility to someone else. That is, until it became clear that the wafting, temperamental artiste and her wide-eyed thirteen-year-old had as tenuous a grasp on domesticity as he did. But by then Alice was a safe hundred miles away from their ramshackle cottage and returned only