The Offer(29)

“Go fuck yourself,” I tell him, opening my door and quickly jetting inside, shutting the door hard behind me.

As my cheeks flame, I can hear him say on the other side, “There’s the girl I wanted to see.” Then the sound of his own door shutting.

What an asshat. I mean, I know he’s fucking with me like that kid in grade school, only pulling more than just my hair. But man, does he know how to get under my skin. Just because I’m not fucking everything that walks – or him – doesn’t mean I’m some uptight, virginal prude.

Unfortunately, I also know he’s kind of right. Because in the last few years, I’ve been heading in that direction. Even though I’m not fat, I used to be way thinner and toned. Now, I’ve got cellulite on my thighs, an ass that won’t stop growing and stretch marks and a C-section scar on my poochy stomach. I’m sure I could make it work for me if I wanted to, it’s just that it’s so hard to look back on the person I was – happier, better – and be okay with what I am now. It’s like admitting defeat.

The last thing I want is to strip naked with a guy and it’s unfortunate that the last guy I wanted to do that for was Bram.

Crap. Maybe I really should go hook up with some random just to get Bram’s legacy out of my damn head.

“Mommy.”

I look over and see Ava on the couch, staring at me curiously. I realize I’m leaning back against the door as if Bram’s going to burst inside at any moment. I straighten up and shoot her a bashful look. “I’m okay,” I tell her.

“Was that Bram?” She pronounces his name with extra care now, wanting to get that “R” in there.

“Yes,” I say cautiously. I don’t like how she still continues to stay gaga over him. I don’t want to have to be nice for her sake and with him being the only male she really sees, the last thing I want is for her to see him as a father figure.

“Bram-a-lama-ding-dong!” she sings loudly, popping Snuffy up and down. “Bram-a-lama-ding-dong!”

Ding dong is right.

“All right that’s enough,” I tell her. “How about we use our quiet voices, okay?”

“Bram-a-lama-ding-dong!” she yells, running to her room and giggling.

I exhale, unfold the newspaper at the kitchen table and start searching for a job.





***





It’s about two in the afternoon and I’ve circled every job I’ve seen fit in the paper, even those I have no experience in like waitressing. I’ve sent out every résumé and cover letter and crossed my fingers a million times. Now Ava is racing around the couch, stir-crazy from boredom and I feel like I need a dozen espressos to even get through the rest of the day. At least she’s stopped singing her Bram song.

A knock at the door. I feel like I’ve spoken too soon.

I get up to answer it, giving myself a once over in the vintage mirror on the wall. I don’t look half-bad. I guess it helps that after our earlier altercation, I had a long shower and made a full-hearted attempt to make myself look prettier. My hair is wavy with just the right amount of product. I’ve shaded in my brows more (apparently one of my better features according to most women), put on a few strokes of mascara and a plum lip stain. My skin started going crazy during pregnancy but thankfully it’s calmed down and I don’t have to wear foundation much. I also skipped the blush since I have my cheeks to thank for that.

I open the door and am not surprised at all to find Bram on the other side. Once he sees me his eyes widen appreciatively at my face and then at the rest of my body. I’m just in leggings and a long sleeveless tunic, but it’s a step up from pajamas.

“Well, hello there,” he says. He holds out a bottle of wine. “Peace offering.”

I purse my lips. “Peace offering?”

“Yes,” he says, shaking the bottle at me. “Have you had the Don Melcher before? It’s brilliant.”

“It looks expensive.”

“It is,” he says and smiles. “But I feel I need it make it up to you.”

“For what?” I want him to say it.

“For being a right prick,” he says. “And for standing there with my dick on display. I shouldn’t tease you with it.”

My eyes narrow momentarily.

He catches himself. “Sorry, sorry. I will behave from now on, I promise.”

“Yeah, right.”

He crosses his heart. “I swear. The minute I say the wrong thing, you can kick me out.”

“Don’t bet I won’t.” I sigh and step out of the way, letting him come inside. That fresh and woodsy scent, reminiscent of something I can’t place, but something that once made me happy, wafts past and I can’t stop myself from closing my eyes briefly and breathing it in.