“For what?”
It’s uncomfortable talking to Flora about my sex life. Especially since my sex life is extremely . . . casual. “I don’t mean any disrespect.”
“Are you apologizing to me or the women?” She smiles as I fill her water glass. “Everybody needs intimacy. I don’t fault you that. I just hate to see you so closed off. I think it hurts the girls, and I think it hurts you too.”
“I’m not closed off,” I say, passing her the drink. “I’m doing my best.”
“Perhaps.” She takes a sip. “Listen—don’t feel guilty about leaving Bell. It’s good for you to live your own life. And I’ve sat for her enough times to know how to bring out her excitement.”
“She’s definitely excitable,” I agree.
She laughs. “That she is. Go have fun tonight. And if you want to spend the night out, I have no problem sleeping here.”
“Oh, that won’t be—”
“I’ll just plan on spending the night unless I hear otherwise,” she says.
“No-o-o,” Bell screeches from behind me. I turn just in time to see her burst into tears. Pico mouths “sorry” at me, already looking shell-shocked.
“You can’t do this to me!” Bell launches herself forward, gripping my leg with surprising strength. I pick up her flailing body, and she throws her arms around my neck. “No, no, no. Please don’t go. I can’t fall asleep without you here.”
“Bell, calm down,” I say firmly, but it comes out softer than I mean. I shoot Flora a look.
She nods encouragingly at me.
Bell sobs into my neck. I rub her back. “You’re a big girl, Bell—”
“No I’m not.”
“I need you to do this for me. Please. I promise I’ll be back before you wake up.”
She screams, shredding my eardrums as she fists her hands into my suit jacket. “No, no, no.”
Jesus Christ. I’m no stranger to Bell’s fits, but normally I’m able to calm her down pretty quickly. I suddenly realize that’s because I just give her what she wants.
Flora comes around the counter. “Bell, sweetheart, we’re going to have fun tonight, you, me, and Pico. We’ll do all the girly things Daddy doesn’t do.”
“He does them all,” she says, kneeing me in the gut.
I double over with an ooph, nearly dropping her. Frustrated, I shout “goddamn it” as pain radiates from my stomach.
“Oh, dear.” Flora puts her hand on Bell’s back. “I was going to make you an omelet for dinner. I know how you like those. But omelets are for big girls, not babies.”
“I’m not a baby,” Bell says.
“You’re acting like one,” I tell her. “I thought you said crying was for boys.”
She shudders in my arms. It’s taking everything in me not to give in. I hate this. I don’t even want to go. Sure, I’d love to spend more time with Amelia, but I don’t know if I’ll get to. Maybe she isn’t going. Maybe she has a date. It’s not worth traumatizing my daughter.
“Don’t you dare,” Flora says. “I see defeat in your eyes.”
I take a deep breath, hug Bell closer, and try to put her down. She wriggles to keep her arms around my neck, but I pry her off.
“I hate you both,” she yells at me. “You went away last weekend and now you’re leaving me again. I hate you.” She tears off through the kitchen toward her room.
I flinch when she slams the door. She’s right. I didn’t spend last weekend with her because she was with Sadie. That’s three out of seven nights I’ll be away from her. At least my dad came home every night, even if he was drunk or pissed off.
I scrub my hands over my face. “I can’t do it.”
“You should go now,” Flora says. “Before she comes back out.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Andrew, look at me.”
I lower my hands, balling them into fists.
Flora’s face is earnest. “You’re the best dad I know. You’re nothing like your father, but you’re everything like your grandfather.”
I stare at her, my chest tight. Flora’s husband and my grandfather used to let Pico and me hang at the garage after school, and without us realizing it, they taught us how to be men.
“You remind me so much of him,” she says.
I swallow, feeling not unlike a small child. “He’s my role model.”
“I know, and it shows.” She leans in. “He was a lover, Andrew. He’d hate to know you were throwing your happiness away by not giving someone a chance to love you. Worse, that you’re not setting a good example for your daughter.”
“How is that setting a bad example? Everything I do is for her.”
“Do you want her to live her life for someone else? Even you?” she asks. “Or do you want her to stand on her own, make decisions for herself and be her own woman?”
I look toward Bell’s bedroom. I want nothing more than to go comfort her, tell her I’ll stay, change out of this stuffy suit. But Flora’s right. This isn’t healthy. She needs to learn how to be away from me. Not right away. Not for a long time, I hope. But we have to start somewhere.
I nod. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Good.” Flora looks way more relieved than I feel. “Let me know what you decide about staying overnight.”
I go into the living room, get my wallet and keys, and reluctantly head out the door before I change my mind.
TEN
Sadie’s definition of a bar is different from mine. When I meet my friends for a drink, it normally means beer and a game of pool at Timber Tavern. Tonight, I step into a place with a French name I can’t pronounce. The countertops are black-lacquered with white subway tile. The cocktails cost more than most of my meals. For once, I’m glad to be wearing a suit.
Sadie waves at me from the bar. I make my way through the light crowd and stop cold when I spot Nathan next to her. “I thought you had to work,” I say from a few feet back. I know when I’m being lured into a trap.
“He was able to get off last minute,” Sadie says, waving a hand. “How great is that?”
“Not great,” I say slowly, crossing my arms. Nathan keeps his eyes on the ground. “Why’d you make me come all the way here if you don’t need me?”
“Because it actually worked out perfectly. My new colleague—Mindy, remember?—her date fell through, and since you were already on your way, I figured you could take his dinner.”
I glare at Sadie. I should’ve guessed this was a set up. Sadie’s never invited me to one of her events before. “No.”
“Yes.”
“You tricked me.”
“No,” Sadie says. “It just happened to work out.”
“Come on, Sadie, I’m not an idiot.” Nathan busies himself inspecting the ceiling, the bastard. “Do you guys have any idea what it was like for me to get here tonight? Bell nearly took me down.”
“I figured,” Sadie says. “She had a meltdown on the subway when we left you Friday night.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to worry you.” She shrugs. “I took care of it, Andrew. It’s normal for her to have some separation anxiety given the way Shana left, but at some point, you have to stop indulging that behavior.”
“You’re going to start with me too?” I ask. “I’m her only parent. Everything I do is for her.”
“We know,” Nathan says, coming over to rest a hand on my shoulder. “Nobody’s denying that. But Bell’s getting to an age where—”
“Dude,” I say, turning to him. “You’re supposed to be my bro. A heads up about this would’ve been nice.”
Nate rolls his lips together and removes his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I am,” he says. “Which is why drinks are on me. What can I get you?”
“Whisky, neat. And I want top-shelf.”
“Of course,” Nathan says, smiling a little too hard. He leans in and talks to me through his teeth. “Don’t resist.
She’s just hit month five, and she’s getting unpredictable.”
Sadie looks up. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” we say at the same time.
Nathan and I exchange a glance before he turns away to wave down the bartender.
I nod at Sadie’s half-finished drink. “That better be water,” I say.
“It’s vodka, obviously,” she says. “I’m not that far along.”
“Very funny.”
She perks up and waves across the bar. “There’s Mindy.”
“This isn’t a date,” I say to Sadie as a pretty brunette makes her way toward us.
“No, of course not,” Sadie says. “Just a free meal.”
“And drinks,” I add. “Plural.”
Mindy’s smile stretches ear to ear, and her teeth are as white as her tight, long-sleeved dress. “Hi,” she chirps, looking between Sadie and me.
She and Sadie hug, and the short dress rides up her thighs. Her tan is incredible, as if she’s just returned from a month in the Bahamas. Her brown hair curls around her shoulders, bouncing when she and Sadie separate. I doubt she’s even twenty-five, and even though that’s not far from Amelia’s early thirties, they seem miles apart. I hold out my hand. “Andrew. Nice to meet you.”
She looks to Sadie, tentatively taking my hand. “Hi . . .”
“Andrew, you’ve met,” Sadie says in a tone she uses when she’s embarrassed. “At my office, remember? She brought you to my desk?”
“Oh. Right.” I take my hand back. Her face is vaguely familiar, like someone I’ve passed on the street more than once. “I’m sorry. I had my daughter, so that day is kind of a blur.”
“That’s okay,” she says.
“Mindy’s new to the city. She moved here in winter.”
“I’d say welcome, but I don’t live here,” I say. “I’m in New Jersey.”
“Sadie told me. I’m so glad you made the trip tonight.”
“Your date fell through?” I ask.
Sadie nods before Mindy even has a chance to answer. “Yep.”
“I’m talking to Mindy,” I say, giving Sadie a look.
“Actually, I canceled it,” she says. “I met him online, and he was a little out there.”
“Online?”
Nathan hands me my drink and Mindy a red wine.
“That’s how people meet these days,” Sadie says, nudging me with her elbow. “Online.” She turns to Mindy. “I’ve been trying to get Andrew to sign up for one of those apps—”
“I’m not signing up,” I say.
“It’s not that bad,” Mindy says. “I’d say maybe four out of five dates are pretty awful, but—”
I open my mouth. “Four out of five? Those are shit odds. It’s that important to you?”
“Finding that one great date that could turn into more?” she asks. “Absolutely.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t even have time to go on five dates.”
“Yes you do,” Sadie says. “It’s all about prioritizing.”
“My priorities are fine, thanks.”
She slips her arm around Nathan’s waist, looking up at him. “I’d go on a hundred bad dates for Nathan.”
“Really?” I ask. “So you’d sit through a hundred bad conversations, a hundred awkward goodbyes, a hundred crushing rejections to end up with ‘the one’?”
The three of them stare at me. Maybe they’ve never been on a truly bad date, but I find that hard to believe. “Yes,” Nathan says first. “In a heartbeat.”
I shake my head. Nathan, I believe. He’d do it. I’m not so sure about the rest of the world, though. That sounds pretty brutal to me. “Fine,” I say. “Should we head over?”
“Not yet,” Sadie says. “Let’s relax. Finish our drinks. We have time.”
The girls take a seat at the bar while Nate and I hang back. Mindy’s sweet scent drifts over, and it makes me think of Amelia’s strong, distinct perfume, only detectable when I’m close to her—which is maybe the best part. I want at least a whiff of it tonight, which means I’ll need to be within kissing range.
I straighten the knot of my tie. “How do you wear one of these every day?” I ask Nathan. “It’s fucking strangling me.”
“You get used to it.” He glances at it. “Red is bold. Definitely not a color I’d guess you’d choose.”
I flatten it against my chest. “It’s my special-occasion tie.”
Nathan sips his drink. “This isn’t anything huge. Sadie’s more excited about setting you up than the nomination.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why can’t she just let me be?”
He cocks his head at me. “Dude, she’s your sister. She wants you to be happy.”
“I’m happy,” I insist. “I’ve got everything I need.”
“I guess she thinks you don’t.” He swirls his drink. “You never think about what it’ll be like raising a preteen girl on your own? It’s not that far off.”
“I think about it every fucking day. She’s turning seven next month, and I can literally still feel her as a baby in my arms.” I shake my head. Going backward is easier than worrying about what’s ahead of us. “You’re so lucky, man. I’d give anything to revisit those days. Don’t get me wrong. Bell’s a human now, and so much more fun, but when she was a baby . . . Jesus. Best feeling.”
Nathan watches me closely.
I’m rambling. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m just excited for you. Bell and I will be visiting a lot.”
“I get it. Sadie had to lay out a budget because I’ve been overspending on the baby.” Nate grins. “You ever think about having another?”
“Baby?” I reminisce about it frequently, but doing it all over again? “I can’t imagine it. It’s been me and Bell for so long.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But you could. If you really miss it. You could have all that again.”
I thump Nathan on the back. “You’re starting to sound like Sadie,” I say. “You guys need to get it through your heads—I don’t want a baby. I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I’m good on my own.”
Nathan frowns at something behind me. I look just as Mindy turns away from us, clearly trying to hide the fact that she overheard me. I shouldn’t be sorry—it’s the truth, and I make no bones about it. But I feel Sadie’s scowl before I see it.
Resigned, I give Nathan a look and take the seat next to Mindy. “How are you liking the city?” I ask.
“It’s fun for now,” she says. “But I can’t see myself staying forever.”
I hadn’t picked up on her slight drawl earlier. “Why not? Where are you from?”
“Georgia. This place is . . . different. I wouldn’t raise a family here.”
“Yeah.” I lean back in my seat. “I have a daughter, and I couldn’t do it. I get anxious just putting her on the bus to school.”
She smiles, looking down at her wine. “Bell, right? She’s so cute. The resemblance is uncanny. She looks just like you and Sadie.”
“Thank God,” I mutter. Sometimes I catch glimpses of Shana in Bell, but mercifully, not too often. I worry that as she gets older, the resemblance will strengthen. As if I need the reminder.
Nathan walks up behind Sadie’s chair and kisses her on the back of her head. He shoots a glance in my direction and whispers something in her ear. Her face falls. “Oh,” she says. “Okay.” She leans over to us. “Let’s head to the event. We’re a little early but they should have a bar to keep you guys occupied.”
I stand and help Mindy off the stool. She and Sadie walk ahead of Nate and me.
“Thanks for saving me, man,” I say to Nathan.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Pretty sure you did, and I appreciate it.”
He half-smiles. “I just told her the women’s bathroom was out of order.”
“Is it?” I ask.
“How the hell should I know?”
We laugh as we step out into the night to make our way to the gala.
ELEVEN
AMELIA
In my bra and underwear, I check my hair and makeup one last time before putting on earrings. They were a gift from Reggie that should make me feel bad but diamonds will always have the opposite effect on a woman, no matter the circumstances.
It should take precisely fifteen minutes to reach the venue, which leaves me five minutes until my car arrives. My red dress is like a work of art, with subtle, intricate details like stitching, gathering and beading only a trained eye would notice. Despite having had a fortunate enough existence that I get to wear things like this from time to time, stepping into a dress like this is never anything less than satisfying.
I pull it up over my hips and zip it halfway. Reaching across one shoulder to close it the rest of the way, I grasp fruitlessly for the zipper. My arm starts to burn from the effort. Just as I’m about to snatch it, there’s a knock on my door.
I give up with a huff and go to answer it. The driver’s early, and he’s not supposed to come upstairs, but at least he can make himself useful by helping me into my dress.
I open the door. “I just need a few—”
I freeze. It isn’t the driver on my doorstep, but a man I’ve worked hard to keep off it. A man who, every time I manage to forget him for a while, seems to sense it and show up.
Once my mind starts to work again, I lean against the doorframe. “Reggie.”
“Bonjour, muffie,” he says.
I cross my arms. The nickname serves to remind me of a better time. For one of our early dates, Reggie surprised me with a weekend in Paris. The first time we slept together, it was in a room that opened up to a view of the Eiffel Tower. The next morning, he fed me muffin and coffee in bed. “Don’t call me that,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
He massages the inside corners of his eyes with one hand. I notice his dark circles first, then his undone tie, and five o’clock shadow, but it isn’t his unkemptness that catches me off guard. I haven’t seen Reggie in months, and he’s lost enough weight to obliterate his beer gut. His cheeks are no longer pudgy, his posture is straighter, and somehow, he appears to have covered up the bald spot that started forming halfway through our marriage. I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. He looks even better than he did when we started dating.
The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue Book 2) Page 11