“Hey,” I say brightly. “You never call.”
“Because you usually answer your texts,” she says quickly. “Where have you been?”
“Here,” I tell her.
“Like in California, or somewhere more specific?”
“Just…here.”
“Are you okay?”
This is why I didn’t want to talk to Steph. She usually has a sixth sense about things.
“Mmmm.” A non-committal answer is best.
“You’re still coming out tonight, right?”
“Well…”
“Nicola!” she says. “I haven’t seen you for weeks.”
That’s true, though that’s more on her end. She’s been super busy with her new online business. She used to run her store, Fog and Cloth, in a bricks and mortar location but went online to go with the times. But, as it was for the company I used to work for, it hasn’t been easy. It’s very competitive and she’s a two-woman show so far, having only one person working for her in the warehouse. I rarely see her, especially coming into the summer season.
“Look,” I say, pushing my hair behind my ears and eyeing the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. I’d give my left boob to have a glass right now but I wouldn’t dare with Ava under my care. “Something’s come up and I don’t have Lisa to sit right now.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I want to know.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you always want to know.” I take in a deep breath. “Okay, promise not to make a big deal about it?”
“Yeah…”
“Actually promise you won’t talk about it? At all.”
Silence. “Maybe.”
“Then I’m not telling.”
“Oh, come the fuck on.”
“Whoa, language, angry lady. Your husband is rubbing off on you.”
At that she giggles and I have to roll my eyes again. I believe that even if the person can’t see you roll your eyes, they can tell.
“Never mind,” I quickly say, “you pervert.”
“Seriously,” she says. “I won’t talk about it. Just tell me.”
And so I launch into it. To her credit, she doesn’t say a word until I’ve caught her up to speed, breathless and angry all over again.
“Wow,” she says. “That…well, I won’t talk about it. But…seriously?”
“Stephanie,” I warn.
She groans. “Okay, fine. But you have to come out tonight. You can’t be there alone.”
“Maybe you didn’t hear the part about me not having a babysitter.”
“Bring Ava along!”
I almost laugh. “Yeah, right. To a bar?”
“Well, maybe not the bar, but we’re meeting at our place first for an hour or two, for pre-drinks. At least you can come to that.”
“I can’t even afford a cab and my car is still messed up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I tell her, feeling my hackles go up.
“I know, but still. I’ve got you, okay? That’s what friends are for. I’ll get a car to you and you’ll come here and we’ll have a nice time with friends and we won’t discuss anything you don’t want to. Please. Don’t make me beg.”
“But I like it when you beg.”
“So does Linden.”
“Okay, TMI, I’m hanging up now.”
She giggles again. “Sorry. All righty, be ready at 6pm. We’ll have appies here so don’t worry about dinner either and I’ll fix something up for Ava. And by that, I mean Linden will since he’s the only one who knows how to cook. See you soon and hang in there. You’re going to be okay.”
I hang up the phone not at all wanting to be around people, even if they are my friends. But I also don’t want to have a staring contest with that half-drunk bottle of wine either and spend the evening wallowing in feelings of panic and inadequacy.
Luckily as I take a quick shower and get ready for the evening, I feel my spirit perk up a bit. It’s probably because I haven’t gone out in a really long time and there’s something about dressing up that makes me feel like I’m in my element. I bring out the waves in my hair, squeeze myself into a pair of skinny jeans and a white fluttery, off-the-shoulder top, add a pop of red lipstick and I’ve got this sultry señorita look going on, even though with the freckles on my nose and my English rose skin, I’m the furthest thing from it.
Ava is beyond excited to go to an “adult party.” She seems to copy my lead by spending a lot of time picking out an outfit, even though in the end she wants to wear her SpongeBob pillowcase. I put her in a purple dress instead and we head downstairs to wait for the cab to show up, booster seat in tow.
When I see a navy blue Mercedes pull to the curb, I wonder if Stephanie ordered the priciest Uber in town.
The car parks and I hold Ava’s hand, remaining at the door to my building until I know for sure they’re there for us. When the driver’s side opens and a tall gentleman in a suit gets out, I know it can’t be for me. No Uber driver dresses that well.
That is, until I see his face.
Bram. Fucking. McGregor.
I blink. My cheeks grow hot and I’m wishing this is all a huge mistake. Bram can’t be here for me, can he? I mean, the last time I saw Bram was at Steph and Linden’s wedding and even though we shared a hot make-out session, it wasn’t long before he found another pair of lips to hook up with. And by “not long,” I mean minutes.
“Nicola,” he says in his Scottish accent, looking incredibly dapper as he leans across his spiffy car. “Are you ready?”
Oh, fuck. He is here for me.
I nearly drop the booster seat.
I squeeze Ava’s hand and take in a deep breath. I want to kill Stephanie, even though I never told her I made out with her brother-in-law, so there’s no way she could possibly know that I hate Bram with a passion.
Remember what I said about pride and how it’s something I’ve got in spades? Well, Bram bruised that far more than he could possibly know.
And now I have to get in a car with him, with my daughter, when I’m at one of the lowest moments of my life.
He eyes the heavy seat in my hands. “Do you need a hand?”
I’m this close to telling him, “Thanks, but no thanks,” and that I’ve changed my mind all together about the party. But Ava pulls me forward toward the car, as if I’ve never taught her to be aware of strangers, and says, “Come, mommy. His car is shiny.”
She’s going to get herself in a whole load of trouble when she’s older.
My eyes briefly meet Bram’s and it brings out one hell of a jackass smile from him, a smile that boils my blood.
I guess I’m going to the party with Bram McGregor.
Shit.
CHAPTER TWO
Nicola
I steady myself, throw my shoulders back and hold my head up just like I used to do in high school when I was the new girl in the halls and not accepted yet into the throngs of mean girls with inflated self-entitlement. I flash Bram a confident, albeit hella fake, smile and walk over to his car, all prepared to handle the situation with ease.
But he’s fast and he comes around the hood and right up to me, quickly taking the booster seat out of my hands. I’m prepared for him to smell like cigars and mint again, but this time it’s just something fresh and earthy like the woods after it rains.
“I can handle it,” I tell him. I can’t help but snipe at him, aware that I’m being a bit of a bitch.
He doesn’t seem to notice and before I can ask him if he knows what he’s doing, he’s opening the back door to the vehicle and strapping the seat in like a pro.
I’m almost impressed. “You always give rides to moms?”