The Offer (4 page)

“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.

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.”

My eyes widen
and I look down at Ava. She’s completely oblivious and I carefully
shut the door. “Look,” I quickly say, pointing at him. “You may
think you know me from our little…meeting, but you don’t.”

He reaches out
and grasps my finger in his hand. His skin is warm and surprisingly
soft, but then again, even though he may have the body for it, I’m
sure Bram didn’t get his money from chopping trees all day or doing
hard labor.

“Hey,” he
says, voice gruff, still holding onto my finger. “I know we don’t
really know each other and when we last, erm, talked, well, I may
have been a few sheets to the wind. But how about we start again?
I’m Bram McGregor.”

He turns my
hand over so that he’s now holding it in a handshake. I’m not sure
I can do this as easily as he can, but I find myself saying, “Okay.
I’m Nicola. Price.”

“Pleasure to
meet you, Nicola Price. Can I give you a ride?”

I nod. “That
would be nice.” I know my voice sounds stiff, but I guess it’s a
start. The problem with my pride, though, is that it rarely lets me
forget when it’s been burned.

Luckily Bram
is completely genial during the drive to Linden’s apartment in Nob
Hill. He spends most of it talking to Ava in the rearview mirror,
asking her questions and treating her like she’s an adult. I can
tell Ava adores it and by the time we’re close to Steph and
Linden’s, she’s all googly-eyed over him. This is not good. Can’t
she be like her mom and be suspicious of the men who smile too
brightly and say all the right things?

Though I guess
with Bram, he has a habit of saying all the wrong things.

“So, Nicola,”
he says slowly as we wind through traffic. “You know, I don’t know
much about you. Linden says you work in fashion like
Stephanie.”

I did
, I think
bitterly but I manage to say, “Uh-huh.”

“So what’s
your job?”

“What’s your
job?” I ask, deflecting it back to him. Besides, I’m curious. In
the past, Linden only described Bram as a playboy (or “bloody
manwhore” I believe were his exact words) who didn’t do much but
party it up in New York City. He moved to San Francisco a year ago,
I guess to be close to Linden who had a frightful helicopter crash
at the time, but I don’t know what he really does except flash
those perfect teeth at people.

“I’m an
apartment manager,” he says and when he sees the disbelieving look
in my eyes, he goes on. “I’m serious. Well, to be more correct, I
own an apartment complex in SOMA. Folsom and twelfth beside a Thai
restaurant.”

He’s looking
at me like I’ll know, like most newbies to the Bay Area do, like we
know every Thai restaurant in town and every person called Dan.

“That couldn’t
be cheap,” I say, looking back out the window as we crawl past the
cars. There are so many gorgeous buildings in this city, places to
die for, and over and over again I can’t help but wonder who can
afford to live here. I once met an Uber driver who used to drive
trucks across the country, who grew up in the city. He said back
then, San Francisco was full of children. Now, you rarely see them.
Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for Ava. and for me, to
just move to a small town where she can have a different kind of
life. Then I think about my dreams for my future, my career, and
wonder if it’s okay for me to give up on them. I know it’s selfish
of me not to, but I still can’t quite let go.

“Nothing in
life is cheap,” Bram says but I barely hear him. I have to bring
myself back into the moment and stop my head and my worries from
running away on me. I came out tonight to put those on the
backburner. God knows I’ll have more than enough time to worry
after this.

“Am I boring
you?” he asks and I turn my head to look at him.

“No. Sorry, I
was just thinking.”

“About
what?”

My brows lift
up. “I don’t think we’re at that ‘let’s tell each other what we’re
thinking’ stage.”

“Not yet.”

Not ever
, I
think. But I don’t want to answer any more questions about myself,
so I ask him to tell me more about the apartment and I force myself
to listen. The more he talks about it, though, the more I see this
is something he’s actually stressing a bit over. I mean, it’s hard
to tell if Bram is stressed or not because he always has that
charmer expression on his face like he’s always trying to get in
someone’s pants, male or female. But there’s a harder glint to his
eyes when he talks about the rent of the building and how much he
has to charge in order to make his mortgage.

“So why did
you buy it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I
needed to do something.”

“
Well, I
wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Rent is phenomenal in the
city even in SOMA. Everyone predicted it would be the next place to
become the
it
place. Hell,
I bet the Tenderloin will turn that way soon too. Hanging with
crack addicts will become the cool thing to do and hipsters will
take over the street corners. And my rent will go up once again.”
He shoots me a quick glance at the hardness that crept up in my
voice. I try to sound breezier. “Anyway, I’m sure you bought at the
right time.”