by Dani McLean
As soon as I stepped onto the dance floor, Sarah sidled up to me. “Having a good night?” Her eyes were twinkling so bright; my heart might have burst. I always wanted to see her this happy.
Sarah cocked her chin in the direction of Mom and Audrey. “They look like they’re getting on well. Mom will be knitting her a Christmas stocking next.”
Oh, God, she absolutely would.
My next question came as much as a surprise to me as it did to Sarah. “How did you know Matt was the one?”
Sarah smiled wide enough that her eyes practically closed with glee, and she launched into my arms with a squeal. If anyone asked, I’d tell them it was the champagne.
“Ok, ok.” I chuckled in her ear and let her down again. “Also, remind me to pay you back for whatever you told mom.”
Sarah’s only response was a self-satisfied laugh.
A few dances later and Dad finally managed to convince Mom to give Audrey a break. I was thrilled when Audrey made her way over to join me on the dance floor.
“Tired yet, or do you think I can steal a dance?” she asked as the music changed to a swinging Sinatra tune.
I grabbed Audrey’s hand and spun her around on the spot before catching her hips and closing the distance between us. The dance floor was fairly packed, now that all the important parts of the night had concluded. Everyone was free to let loose, and they were certainly taking the opportunity. In the corner of my eye, I could see Greg’s grandmother dancing with my cousin. For eighty-one, she still had some moves.
Sarah winked at me when she caught us dancing, and I couldn’t remember being so happy.
It was past midnight when we both finally lumbered back into our room, more tired than tipsy. Audrey flopped onto the bed immediately, groaning as she stretched out. I began undressing, still having enough of my wits to hang my jacket up before sitting on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes. The sheets rustled next to me, and I glanced over to find Audrey on her side, head propped up on her elbow while she watched me.
Standing, I faced her and made a show of the next few steps. Tie and cufflinks off and placed on the side table, I slowed to undo my shirt buttons one at a time. Catching her eye, I asked, “Enjoying the view?”
Her heated gaze lingered for a moment. “That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
And oh, the things I would do with her right now if I had the energy. “Would you be disappointed if I said I was too tired for sex?”
She sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God, I don’t think I could move a muscle. Might be a bit weird.”
I chuckled. “Good to know.”
I watched as she squirmed on the bed, trying without any luck to reach the zip on the back of the dress. “Do you want a hand there? Not that this isn’t entertaining,” I asked, amused.
“Please.” Her hand flopped back down on the bed like a petulant child. I liked seeing her like this. It felt like I was seeing a side of her that not many did. It felt natural and familiar, like a worn sweater. Comforting.
I helped her out of her dress, which found itself discarded on the floor near her shoes. Left only in her underwear, she quickly crawled under the covers and burrowed in.
God, I loved this woman.
There were many things I would remember about tonight, but I knew without a doubt when I looked back, this was the memory I’d cherish.
I finished undressing, then folded and placed my suit pants on the side table.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I asked, hopeful.
Her smile was half-hidden by the pillow but obvious in her voice. “Definitely. Your family is great.”
“Mom didn’t scare you off?”
Her eyes opened, serious. “Of course not, she’s wonderful. I can see where you and Sarah get your good humor.”
“And our good looks.” I pulled back the covers and slid in next to her. She shuffled closer, laying her head over my chest, and tangled our legs together. “I’m really glad you came today. It was nice having someone to share this with.”
She hummed sleepily in agreement. As softly as I could, so I didn’t wake her, I stroked along her spine. I knew without a doubt I wanted this every night. She felt so right in my arms.
Now that she’d met my parents, I wanted to take her home, show her where I grew up. Enjoy more Sundays with her and Sarah. Hell, maybe Matt could come, and we could double date at some of the so-called amazing brunch places that I lived near but never bothered to go to. I wanted to support Audrey’s launch, maybe even talk to Wes or Liv and get some good social media support for the brand. I’d have to mention it to Audrey, see what she thought.
And just as I felt sleep tugging at me, I had a single consistent thought. I was completely and utterly head over heels for Audrey Adams.
27
Audrey
A few days later, Tiff sat beside me at Chicago’s foremost annual non-media affiliated culinary awards. Apparently, all of that was important, but I was just here for Tiff. It was her fourth time being nominated in the bartending category, but the first I’d been able to attend.
It wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting.
The restaurant it was held in hadn’t been transformed so much as mildly dressed up. A small stage had been erected along one wall, and on it stood a speaker’s podium and a trestle table piled high with fancy bronze awards. Several gentlemen in three-piece suits stood up there, one hosting and the other guarding the statues before passing them out as each winner approached the stage.
Most of the audience wasn’t paying any attention as they were focused more on drinking and networking with each other, taking breaks only to clap at the appropriate points.
Tiff rhythmically tapped her nails on the table while impatiently watching for a waitress. Her shrewd eyes passed over me. “You seem awfully chipper. I’m assuming the wedding went well. Or else you got laid. Either way, spill. I need details.”
“Um, yes?”
“Yes to what?”
“Both,” I answered smugly.
“And how was it meeting the Ward clan?”
“Surprisingly fun. His mom is hilarious.” It had been easy to see where Sarah and Jackson got their liveliness from, and the clear devotion of his parents made me ache. In one evening, Deb had made me feel more welcomed than my parents ever had.
My smile slipped, and I shook off the melancholy. This was Tiff’s night. “Now, tell me again why this major awards night is being held on a Wednesday?”
“It’s to stop everyone from getting shitfaced,” Tiff said, matter-of-factly.
I snorted. “Does it ever work?”
“Hell, no. Everyone here works in, manages, or owns a bar or restaurant. We like our liquor.”
“Well, I’m not about to go wild. I have work in the morning.”
“Like you haven’t gone to work hungover before.”
“That was one time. Also, it was your fault.”
“I wasn’t the one who opened the second bottle of wine.”
“Yes, you were!”
“Fine, maybe I was.” She flagged down one of the waitresses who was handing out drinks and took two glasses of bubbly off the tray. Then two more. “Now, let’s get shitfaced.”
We were another two drinks in when Tiff spotted someone over my shoulder and grimaced. “Ugh, this is always such a sausage fest.”
The someone she spotted walked over to the table; it was a man in a badly fitted black suit. “Tiffany Young, what a surprise. It’s a pity that Graham Stonier isn’t the chair of the awards committee anymore. You probably could have slept your way to a fourth win.”
“Eat a dick, Steve.”
He sneered. “So glad we have such a charming diversity nominee.” Thankfully, he walked away before I could get any ideas about hurting him.
Tiff rolled her eyes. “I want to call him a dick, but that would be an insult to dicks. That guy ruins all genitalia.” She pondered. “Hey, what’s a body part that’s non-binary but equally ha
teful?”
I came up empty. “Bellybuttons? I don’t know that they’re hated, but they can be pretty weird looking.”
Her face contorted. “Oh, God, have you ever seen one when it was pushed out on a pregnant lady? So gross.”
I was incredulous. “Seriously? You just told me you googled rosebud the other day.”
“Don’t kink shame. I didn’t say I liked it, just that I was curious.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “Each to their own. But I mean … some stuff is just meant to stay inside your body.”
The sound I made was half-groan, half-laugh. “Oh, God, that’s too much information.”
“Another drink?” She was already flagging the waitress again.
“Is that even a question?”
Unfortunately, the waitress told us that she’d have to come back with another tray of drinks in five minutes, and I was about to offer to go to the bar instead when I saw the last person I expected.
I was thankful I wasn’t doing anything more than sitting down and breathing, although the latter was taking some considerable effort at this moment.
I felt my heart pounding against my ribs like an angry neighbor. “Shit. Brad.”
Tiff started. “What? Where?”
“Behind you. Fuck, I think he’s walking over here.”
Tiff looked over, and I could tell when she saw him because she straightened in her chair, angling herself in front of me like a shield.
“Is that his date?” she asked.
“Looks like it.”
And then there he was, my ex-husband, standing in this poorly lighted restaurant, politely smiling like this wasn’t awkward as fuck.
“Audrey. Tiffany.”
“Brad.”
A harsh-looking woman in a little black dress hung off his arm, and she looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
When neither Tiffany nor I greeted her, she shifted her weight on her heels and bared her teeth in a fake smile. “Nice to see you again, Audrey.”
The face hadn’t done it, but boy, had her nasal, blunt voice brought the memories flooding back. Even in my rare moments of missing work at Empire, I hadn’t for a second missed the condescension and cattiness from this particular co-worker. I forced a smile in her direction. “You, too, Natalie.”
“Who the hell let you in here.” Trust Tiff to say what I was thinking without any shame whatsoever. I was so glad she was my friend.
Natalie didn’t seem rattled. “My company sponsors the awards, and Brad is my date.”
“How have you been, Audrey?” Brad asked.
“Fine.”
“Still working with David?”
“Yes, actually, and it’s going really well.”
Natalie piped up. “A little rumor is going around that you’re trying to launch a new rum by a local distillery. How quaint. Probably for the best that you’re handling smaller accounts. You wouldn’t want to overtax your abilities.”
“Listen, you b—”
Natalie continued, ignoring Tiff’s outburst. “The MacMillan account, I heard. Bit small for our tastes, but who knew, maybe if they expand, we could make them an offer.”
I would not engage. I would not engage. “Do what you want, Natalie.”
“Well, this has been delightful. Excuse me while I speak to more important people. Darling,” She turned to Brad, “Don’t be much longer.” And with that, she was off. Hopefully, someone spilled a drink on her, and she melted, but I wasn’t about to hold my breath.
“You look stressed.”
It was so familiar and yet so ridiculous I almost laughed. “Jesus, Brad, seriously?”
“What? I’m worried about you.”
Tiff snorted next to me but said nothing when I knocked her knee with my hand under the table. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Brad. That’s the great thing about divorce.”
“You should be taking care of yourself.”
Grinding my teeth, I turned to Tiff. “Can you get us a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll get a waiter over here.” I placed a hand on her arm to stop her.
“I meant from the bar,” I said, imploring her to give Brad and me some space.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
She eyed Brad warily for a long moment, then stood up and walked toward the bar.
“She hasn’t changed, I see.” Brad filled the spot Tiffany left, and I fought against my gut reaction to shift my chair away from him.
He had never been Tiff’s biggest fan, but he’d obviously stopped caring about upsetting me by saying anything about it.
With a resolve I wouldn’t have had a few months ago, I let his comment remain untouched and moved on. “I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.”
“I wasn’t expecting to. It just happened.”
“How long?”
“Almost a year. We’re pretty focussed on our careers, but we’re making it work.”
“Wow.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but it had hardly been more than a year since the divorce, which meant Brad hadn’t wasted any time. I was torn between wanting to know just how short of a period he’d waited before jumping back into a relationship and wishing I could already forget the small amount he’d told me.
“And you?” Brad asked.
I resented the question immediately. Brad wanted to compete. He wanted to prove to me he had moved on. That of the two of us, he had his shit together. I’d spent years hearing him “support” me by always questioning my choices and trying to get me to “find my purpose” as long as that purpose was one he deemed acceptable.
And yes, I was seeing someone, but he didn’t care about that. This was just another way he could one-up me in life. Oh, you’ve been dating someone for a few weeks? Well, Natalie and I are about to move in together. He hadn’t changed.
“I’m happy,” I finally said.
“I’ll take that as a no then.” I felt my jaw clench, but I reminded myself I didn’t want to engage. It was what he wanted, and I had promised myself I wouldn’t fall into his traps anymore. I’d left it all behind.
So why could he still get to me like this?
“I’d be careful with that startup, too. Sixty percent of new businesses fail in the first year. And trust me, you couldn’t handle that.”
“You don’t know anything about me anymore, Brad. Surprisingly, I’m able to function without you.”
He scoffed, unconvinced. ”You don’t know what you want. Never did. You always preferred someone telling you what to do. Anytime it got hard, it was always ‘Brad what do you think?’ And ‘Brad what should I do?’”
He didn’t seem to notice my frustration, or perhaps he always noticed and never cared. He continued. “You should find someone, Audrey. If you’re determined to accept the life you have and nothing more, you could at least make sure you’re not alone. And that doesn’t mean spending all of your time at that bar, getting drunk.”
My focus was locked onto my plate as I fiddled with the cutlery and blinked back tears. I couldn’t believe him. I knew we hadn’t exactly left things in a great place, but to still hold a grudge after this long? To still want to hurt me like this?
His chair was forcibly pulled out from the table by Tiffany. “Ok, asshole, time to go back to your ice princess.”
He scoffed and stood. “You’re still as charming as I remember you, Tiffany. Goodnight, Audrey. Think about what I said.”
I refused to look at him as he walked away.
Tiff plopped down on the seat and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You ok?”
I let out a shaky breath and nodded. I didn’t trust myself to speak, and luckily Tiffany didn’t push beyond a supportive grip on my shoulder and a whispered “asshole” that managed to make me smile.
Tiff’s award was the one after this if the program was correct, and I was relieved when she told me that we were leaving afterward no matter how it went.
In what seemed lik
e mere seconds, she stood and accepted the award with the same casual confidence with which she did everything, and blissfully, there were no speeches. Just a simple handshake, photo op, and then she was grabbing my arm, and we hightailed it out of there.
“I can’t believe that dick. I wish he really was dead.”
“You don’t mean that. That’s a horrible thing to say.”
Tiff just rolled her eyes. “Can I at least wish him some serious bodily harm? And what about that witch he was with? I wanted to throw a drink on her to see if she’d melt.”
My throat was thick with emotion, but at this, I choked out a laugh, dropping my head to her shoulder and hugging her arm as the taxi took us home.
She turned her head and dropped a kiss into my hair. “You’re better than him, Auds.”
I was too emotional to smile, so I weakly nodded and said, “Thanks, Tiff. I love you, too.”
I was silent the rest of the way home, and it wasn’t until I was curled up on my bed in the dark that I let myself cry.
All I wanted to do was bury myself under a blanket and forget the world existed. Forget that tonight had happened.
But I also really didn’t want to be alone.
When he answered the phone, he sounded so relaxed I immediately regretted bothering him. “Hey, gorgeous, how did it go? I’m guessing Tiff won again.”
“Do you think you could come over?” My voice sounded as fragile as I felt.
His concern was immediate. “What happened? Are you ok?”
“Not really. Can you …” I drifted off, not even sure what I wanted to ask. I just wanted him here already, to be wrapped up in his arms and reminded that everything was alright.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
In the time it took for him to arrive, I’d run out of tears and was now pacing by the kettle as it boiled. I debated telling Jackson to go home, embarrassed that I’d worried him over what was essentially silly baggage left over from a relationship I was glad to be rid of.
There was a reason I hadn’t wanted to talk about it before now. What if he heard it and decided I wasn’t worth the trouble?
