a private driver. All I had was Uber, and of course when I left the apartment there were no cars available. ‘My point is, what does it matter if he’s having a baby? You have an awesome life. All he has is a wife.’
‘My life is not awesome, Erin,’ I said, trying not to show the rage my voice. It wasn’t right, not in the hallowed halls of Barneys. And not with the hangover I had from sinking one too many homemade cocktails with Sadie after that shit-show of an afternoon. ‘I have a great job, sure, but what else do I have? You’re married, you have two kids, you own your own business. Angie has the magazine and Alex, even Sadie is gonna be snatched up before I know it. All I have is a vague promise from the flakiest gay dude I ever met to put a baby in me when I get desperate. And that’s a significantly downgraded offer from where we started out.’
Erin pursed her lips and carried on touching up the handbags. She had never approved of my arrangement with Angie’s friend James to co-parent, but I could only see an upside. I really wanted to start a family, and given that I made Taylor Swift look like someone who had her romantic life together, the idea of having a baby with a really rich, really attractive man who would never cheat on me, break my heart or steal my money kind of appealed. But of course, like everyone else but me on this planet, he met a man and was suddenly cured of his baby fever, so here I was, back at square one.
‘When was the last time you went on a date?’ Erin asked, unbuttoning her coat to reveal a beautiful snow-white cashmere sweater. I left my jacket zipped up so she so wouldn’t see where I had spilled coffee down myself on the way over. I was not a spiller, but the morning had been tough. ‘You can’t complain that the fish aren’t biting if you aren’t dangling any bait.’
‘I dangle,’ I protested. ‘It’s just been a while.’
‘What about that guy you were talking to at my holiday party?’ she asked. ‘He seemed super into you.’
‘Erin, he was a magician,’ I said, not even faintly amused. ‘It’s one step up from clown and that’s one step up from suicidal homeless guy. No thank you.’
‘Yeah, okay,’ she relented. ‘You’re not marrying a magician − I can’t have that around my kids. But we need to get you back on track.’
I nodded, reaching out for a beautiful black leather Alexander Wang backpack, wondering whether or not it was the kind of purse that said strong, successful woman looking for Mr Right. Without a word, Erin snatched it out of my hands and set it back on the shelf. Apparently it was not.
‘No backpacks,’ she said, cutting me off as I opened my mouth to defend myself. ‘I don’t give two shits what Vogue says, you’re not in high school, you’re not Cara Delevingne, no backpacks.’
‘I do have her eyebrows,’ I said, peering into a nearby mirror. ‘And, like, three of her ass.’
‘She’s a child,’ Erin replied. ‘She has no ass. Don’t worry about it.’
‘See, this is why I need to have a baby,’ I said, marvelling at my friend. ‘I remember when you wouldn’t wear pants unless you could bounce a quarter off your ass. I need that Zen attitude.’
‘It’s not Zen,’ she said weakly. ‘It’s giving up. You could bounce a roll of quarters off my ass these days and they’d just sink right in. It’s devastating.’
‘Maybe I’ll get fat over the holidays,’ I said, pinching at the stubborn flesh on my thighs that no number of squats could get rid of. ‘I’m pretty sure working out is killing my will to live.’
‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ she asked, blatantly ignoring my pity-party. ‘Spending it with Angie and Alex again?’
Again. Ew.
‘Way to make me sound like a super loser,’ I said. ‘As it happens, Angie yes, Alex no. He’s still on tour, remember?’
‘Oh yeah.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘I suck. Why is it that I can manage fifty women with one hand tied behind my back, but when you leave me at home with two kids under three, I lose my mind inside two days?’
‘You have me to help out in the office,’ I reasoned. ‘I’m pretty great.’
‘It’s true,’ she said, holding up a black crocodile Lanvin box bag. ‘You like?’
‘I love.’ I didn’t want to even look at the price tag. I was making good money in my job now, but I’d only just paid off all my credit cards and the exciting debt I’d managed to work up during my making shitty money period. I did not have inexpensive tastes, and living by a budget was killing me. ‘I just need a rich husband to buy it for me.’
‘What about that guy?’ Erin nodded towards a tall, blond guy in a black wool coat across the way. ‘Cute, cute, cute.’
‘Married, married, married,’ I replied. ‘Why else would he be shopping in Barneys four days before Christmas?’
‘Good son? Divorced dad?’ Erin rattled through her list of possibilities. ‘Gay?’
He caught me looking and smiled before I could look away.
‘Oh God,’ I whispered. ‘He’s gay.’
‘Let’s go find out,’ she said, her eyes bright with the kind of courage that only came to married women who had nothing to lose. I had forgotten how much she liked to play wingman, and apparently I’d also lost my balls. Suddenly, I was petrified.
‘Hi, wow, those are some nice pieces.’
Erin propped herself up on the glass counter beside the man. I peeped over her shoulder sheepishly, fully aware that while he might not be able to see my face, he could definitely see my hair. Today was the day it had decided to be huge, and today was the day I had decided I didn’t care enough to do anything about it. So of course this was happening.
‘Who are you buying for?’
It was brazen. It was brilliant. It was straight out of the Jenny Lopez playbook.
Or at least it used to be. I couldn’t remember the last time I had hit on a guy. I could barely remember the last time I’d had sex, and in all honesty, I kind of wished I could forget it anyway. It had not been good.
‘Um, my assistant,’ the man replied, waving his hand over the counter. No wedding ring. Score. ‘But I’m not sure which one he would like the best.’
Erin considered the four almost identical black leather wallets on the counter.
‘Straight or gay?’ she asked.
‘Wha … ahh … I’m straight?’ the man said, tiny spots of red flushing in his cheeks. Oh, le swoon.
‘Not you!’ Erin gave a tiny laugh that would have put Tinkerbell to shame and rested her hand on the man’s forearm. ‘Your assistant.’
‘Oh, sure, of course.’ His stammer only made him cuter, I thought, as he pushed his hand through his expensive haircut. Blond, tall, tan in the middle of winter and shopping at Barneys. Just how I liked ’em. ‘He’s gay.’
‘You know what, I am really bad at choosing gifts for other people,’ Erin said, stepping back and pushing me in front of our new friend. ‘But Jenny has the best taste. She used to be a stylist, actually. I bet she could pick the right one.’
Oh, she was so good.
‘Hi,’ I said, trying to comb my hair down and shake his hand at the same time. ‘I’m Jenny.’
‘Joe,’ the man replied. ‘Joseph. Although no one calls me Joseph any more.’
‘Would you like me to?’ I asked, wishing I’d had time to put on lip gloss. ‘Make you feel all important?’
He blushed again and I felt Erin pat me on the ass before sneaking away to look at the Philip Lim bags.
‘So, we want a wallet for your