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?”
He raises his brow. “None as beautiful as you.” He looks at Ava and crouches down to her level. “What’s your name, little one?”
“I’m not, little one,” she says, frowning. “I’m Ava. And I’m a big girl.”
He nods, his face sincere. Now looking at him in the waning daylight, he looks different than I remember six months ago. Older, I guess, though I know he has to be around thirty-five. Maybe the suit and the way it cuts to his body perfectly is making him look more mature. Maybe it’s the car. Maybe it’s the few strands of grey I can see at the temple of his thick head of dark hair. Maybe it’s because I’m sober and so is he. At least, I hope so.
“So, are you the designated driver for the night?” I ask him, picking up Ava and placing her in the booster seat. “Or did you lose a bet?”
“I never lose bets,” he says smoothly as he stands behind me. I quickly look over my shoulder and catch him checking out my ass.
“Get a good look?” I straighten up and turn around.
“Of your arse?” he asks, sticking his hands into his pockets in a boyish gesture. “Yes. But only because I know it bugs you so much. You know, anything that’s remotely sexual.”