She pursed her lips and nodded. Ben wasn’t exactly her favorite topic right now. I knew she was afraid of me getting hurt.
“So what do you do for a living?” Ellie asked Braydon.
I thought she knew Bray was a model, or maybe she was just trying to make polite conversation.
“Gynecologist,” he answered with a completely straight face. “You?”
“Proctologist,” Ellie returned, meeting his gaze without so much as blinking.
“Sweet. If I ever need my ass looked at, I know who to call.”
She frowned. “I’m not taking on new clients.”
“That’s a damn shame. If you need me to examine you, just let me know. I’m extremely gentle. Vaginas love me and I always ensure a happy ending.”
Ellie rolled her eyes, scoffing loudly, while I giggled into my hand.
Ben and I watched their back-and-forth like a game of Ping-Pong. Wow. These two were all intense stares and biting tones. I wasn’t sure if it was a dry-sarcastic way of flirting or if Ellie truly wasn’t a fan. But they were rather amusing to watch. Ben and I stayed glued to their heated exchange throughout the ride.
When we reached the art gallery my nerves went haywire. I didn’t know how I’d handle seeing Fiona live and in person. I hoped I didn’t flip out. Ben helped me from the car, resting his hand on my lower back as he guided me to the entrance.
Once Ellie and I had checked our coats and I tucked the coat-check ticket into my purse, we followed Ben and Bray to the bar to grab a drink. A drink was exactly what I needed in my trembling hands.
The art gallery was a small, intimate gathering. About fifty people mingled, talking and drinking in a narrow room hung with bright colorful paintings on the otherwise white walls.
I clutched the stem of the glass of champagne so hard I thought it might snap off in my hand. I was wound impossibly tight at the prospect of spotting Fiona, laughing and mingling in the crowd. If she approached Ben and tried to air-kiss his cheeks or clutch onto his bicep like she used to, I might lose it. I wondered if it was a felony to attack a pregnant woman. Perhaps if I just explained to the police officer what a megabitch she was, any and all crimes would be pardoned.
Ben, reading my tense posture, guided our group over to a less crowded corner of the gallery.
“Emmy? You okay, sweetie?” Ellie gave me a concerned look.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I have to face Fiona,” I admitted. Ben caught my eyes and frowned but stayed quiet.
Ellie raised her hand, catching the attention of the waiter circulating with a silver tray of champagne glasses and waved him over to us. “You got anything stronger back at the bar?” she asked.
He nodded. “I think so.”
She pulled a crisp fifty-dollar bill from her wristlet. “Here’s your tip. Keep them coming.”
The waiter arrived with two Jack and Cokes. Ellie handed me both. “Thanks.”
I focused on sucking down the refreshing cocktail through the little straw and let my eyes wander the room. I was grateful at least to be surrounded by Ben, Braydon, and Ellie, who all seemed to be understanding.
After I’d finished my first cocktail, I saw someone trying to catch Ben’s attention. “Will you be okay for a bit? There’s a few people I need to go talk to,” Ben said.
“Of course. I’ll stay with Ellie.” I knew he was here for work, and I didn’t want my insecurities to keep him from doing his job and making the connections he needed.
I watched Ben mingle with a group of men on the far side of the room. I didn’t know who they were but they looked like arty types—photographers, designers, and such. Feeling a little more confident, my gaze wandered. The moment I spotted her, it was like all the air was sucked from the room. I hadn’t been prepared that she’d actually look pregnant, or that she’d have the cutest baby bump ever. My knees locked together and I struggled to remain standing. I pulled in a deep, shaky breath.
Fiona was glowing, her skin was radiant, and her bright, white smile gleamed as she chatted casually with the man beside her. She was dressed in a pretty black dress, her little belly protruding in a barely there round bump, and soft waves of perfectly styled hair flowed over her shoulders. A pair of leopard-print ballet flats completed the look. She’d apparently given up her sky-high heels she normally wore for something more modest.
“You okay?” Ben approached me from behind, pulling my attention away from Fiona. His hand came to a rest against my spine, like he knew I’d need the physical support.
I swallowed a mouthful of bitter saliva. “Another drink. Get me another drink,” I bit out.
He signaled the poor waiter, who was earning every last bit of that tip, and moments later I had a fresh Jack and Coke in my hand. I sucked it down greedily.
Fiona’s hand rested against her belly as she circulated the room and chatted with various industry people. Her eyes had wandered to Ben and me once, and he’d placed his arm protectively around my waist, pulling me closer. Fiona had kept going right on past us. I was glad I didn’t have to speak to her but even seeing her made me sick.
Several drinks later, I was clutching Ben’s arm just to keep vertical. He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes. His worried gaze locked on mine and I could see him mentally calculating how many drinks I’d had. “You ready for me to take you home, baby?”
I nodded, drunkenly. “Yeah. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”
Ben motioned for Ellie to take me, and after linking her arm through mine we headed through the gallery, thankfully without spotting Fiona on the way.
Ellie and I each slipped inside a stall and went about our business. But when I emerged, Fiona was standing at the sink inspecting her makeup.
Shit.
I took a deep breath and calmly approached the sink next to her and began soaping my hands. Maybe all that alcohol wasn’t the best idea. My stomach was churning violently and I felt woozy and disoriented under the harsh fluorescent lighting. I watched in silence as Fiona reapplied berry-red lipstick to her perfect pout.
I rinsed the suds from my hands and found my reflection in the mirror. In contrast to Fiona’s perfectly put-together appearance I was pale and . . . drunk looking.
Just great.
“It’s a nice event, isn’t it?” I attempted politeness, breaking the stony silence between us.
She shrugged, recapping her tube of lipstick and dropping it inside her tiny purse. “I was surprised to see you here, actually. Ben hadn’t said anything about you two being back together.”
Her words stung, I couldn’t lie. Ben should have told her to go to hell and that I was the love of his life. Why hadn’t he? While I was still rendered speechless, Fiona turned to face me. God, where the hell was Ellie?
“Enjoy him now while you can.” Her hand lovingly caressed her belly. “We’re going to be a family soon. We’ll have a forever connection. What will you have? Your memories of a great shag?”
I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, fighting back the tears and curse words I wanted to let rip. I opened my mouth, my intoxicated brain struggling to give voice to the words swirling in my brain.
“He’s stuck by me for five years. Don’t forget that sweetie. I’d be careful if I were you,” she warned, bitter venom lacing her voice.
Ellie emerged from the stall just then, standing tall beside me. “What Emmy and Ben have is none of your damn business, you old witch. Just worry about yourself.” Ellie’s tone was careful, measured, and I was thankful for her clear, level head. But her voice held a hint of warning, too, and I knew she could go from civilized to bitch in two seconds flat.
Fiona looked from Ellie back to me and let out a short laugh. “Enjoy yourselves while it lasts, girls.” She placed the little purse strap over her wrist and strolled from the restroom without a backward glance.