The women laughed as Dana clapped her hands together. “Ladies, come round mine this Saturday! A proper natter over a cuppa, yeah?” Her colleagues—Claire and Emily—nodded eagerly, already grinning.
“Brilliant. I’ll bring a nice bottle of red,” Claire said. She always knew her wines.
“I’ll bake something,” Emily offered. They all knew she could whip up a storm in the kitchen.
Claire tilted her head. “Why yours, though? Why not a café?”
Dana waved a hand. “We’re always at cafés! At home we can let loose—dance if we fancy! No one judging.”
“Fair point,” Emily said with a chuckle. “Home it is, then.” They dissolved into laughter again.
The three women—all in their early forties—had worked together for years, thick as thieves. They had one thing in common: none were married. Dana had divorced a decade back. Claire, never wed, had a daughter who’d already moved out. Emily, the quietest of them, had been left by her husband when their son was three.
She’d dated here and there since. Dana had nearly remarried once, but her bloke upped and moved to Germany with another woman, signing a five-year contract without so much as a word.
“Good riddance,” she’d said at the time, though it stung. She’d been meant to be the one by his side.
Claire was the looker of the trio—vivacious, always flirting, never settling. She lived alone near the office, the only one who drove.
Emily wasn’t conventionally pretty, but she had something. Dana and Claire privately called her a “plain Jane,” though never to her face.
Friday rolled around, and Dana reminded them: “Tomorrow’s still on, yeah?”
“Course!” Claire chimed. Emily stayed quiet.
Saturday came. Dana tidied up, nipped to the Tesco down the road, bought her favourite chocolate digestives, and set the table.
Claire and Emily arrived together, both catching a lift with Claire. They settled in, laughing over wine—though Emily barely touched hers.
“What’s with you?” Claire nudged. “Not drinking?”
Emily bit her lip. “Sorry, girls. I… I’ve got a date later. With Graham.”
“Graham?” Both women stared.
“Yeah. Problem?”
Dana blinked. “You never mentioned seeing anyone!”
“I didn’t know where it’d go,” Emily admitted. “He rang last night—asked me out.”
Claire scoffed. “Then why’d you come? Could’ve cancelled.”
Emily’s cheeks pinked. “I told him about our plans. Wanted you to meet him. Dana—I gave him your address. He’s picking me up here.”
Dana laughed. “Fine by me! Let’s meet this mystery man.”
She munched on her biscuits, watching Emily curl her hair with mild disbelief. Claire stayed silent too.
“Dana, you got hairspray? Forgot mine.”
“Bathroom.”
Neither believed this would last. Emily always fell hard, then got let down. And her men were never serious.
Emily fussed over her reflection. “How’s my hair? I’m nervous…”
“It’s fine,” they chorused. Claire smirked. “What, is he some Adonis?”
Emily just smiled and ducked into the loo to touch up her makeup.
“How’d she land someone?” Claire muttered. “Forty-six and still acting like a schoolgirl. Reckon this Graham’s just as dull.”
The doorbell rang. Dana jumped up, giggling. “Let’s see this ‘Adonis,’ then!”
Standing there was a man in his fifties, holding three bouquets. “Ready?” he asked Emily, then turned to the others. “These are for you.”
Dana’s jaw dropped. Claire went still.
Tall, dark-haired, silver at the temples—Graham was handsome, his smile easy.
“Graham,” he introduced himself. The women stammered their names.
Claire recovered first, nudging Dana aside. “Come in! We’ve got drinks…”
“Another time,” he declined politely, still smiling. Dana thought, *God, Claire’s clingy as a limpet.* Aloud, she said, “Fancy some juice?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He took the glass, drank half, then set it down.
Arm around Emily, he said, “Pleasure meeting her best mates.” Then, to Emily: “Shall we?”
They left.
Dana and Claire gaped at each other.
“No way a man like that fancies our Emily,” Claire spat. “He’ll have his fun and bolt.”
Dana sighed. “He’s… different. Where’d she even find him?”
“Nowhere good. Watch—he’ll be gone by next week.”
But weeks passed. Months. Emily floated into work radiant, babbling about dates—cafés, galleries, meeting Graham’s friends.
“His mates married?” Dana asked once.
“Two I’ve met. Nice blokes.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “It’ll fizzle out.”
One evening, Dana spotted Graham outside a jewellers. He smiled. “Evening. Off work?”
She flushed. “Yeah. Thanks. You?”
“Office ran late. Actually—I wanted your opinion.” He gestured to the shop. “Fancy a look?”
Under the glass, rings glimmered. Graham paused at the emerald ones.
“Like this one?”
“Lovely,” she stammered. A thought flickered—*Is he picking one for me?*
“Really? Maybe one without stones?”
“No, this is perfect.”
“Brilliant.” He beamed. “Let’s go, then.”
Dana lingered, confused. Then it hit her—*He’ll surprise me with it later.*
She told no one. Already, she pictured flaunting the ring. *Claire will green. Emily—heartbroken.*
That Friday, Emily burst in. “Graham’s taking us all out after work! Says he’s got a surprise.”
Dana barely spoke all day. *He’ll declare his love—give me the ring in front of them.*
At the café, Graham strode in—sharp suit, tie, flowers. Three pairs of eyes locked onto him.
He smiled. “Evening.” Then, to Emily: “Aly, love, your girls mean the world to you. So I want them here when I ask—marry me.”
Emily shrieked, flung her arms around him. “Yes!”
“Like the ring?” He slid it onto her finger.
“It’s gorgeous!”
“Actually,” Graham said, glancing at Dana, “your mate helped choose it. Cheers for that.”
Dana forced a smile. “Happy for you both.”
Inside, she ached.
*Pity he’s not mine.*
