‘—and slim.’ Stephanie patted her own generous hips with a resigned hand. ‘Mike calls these my love-handles, but I bet he wishes I looked more like you.’

      ‘That’s not true.’ Rachel pulled a face. ‘Mike thinks the world of you and you know it.’ She pulled a crystal container down from the top shelf and put the flowers on the counter. ‘Anyway, when are you going to let him make an honest woman of you? It must be six months since you told me he’d asked you to marry him.’

      ‘We’re okay as we are,’ replied Stephanie firmly, helping her to sort the blooms. ‘I like our arrangement. We live together, we share the house, and I don’t have to worry about his mother breathing down my neck, grumbling because I’m not pregnant like Tom’s wife, Lesley.’ She picked up a rich red carnation and sniffed its delicate fragrance. ‘Mmm, these are gorgeous, Rach. And don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to change the subject. I’ll shut up—I will—so long as you stop kidding yourself. Gabe Webb didn’t buy all these flowers for you to decorate the café with them. I’m telling you, it’s you he’s interested in. Just don’t let him hurt you, right? I haven’t forgotten that if it wasn’t for him you and Andrew might still be together.’