Chapter 24 Tony The Phoney
TONY THE PHONEY
SHARI
“Daddy!” my little cherub squeals as her father opens the door.
My heart can’t help but squeeze when he picks her up and spins her around, peppering her face with kisses.
When they both turn to look at me with matching grins, my ovaries join in.
Just a little. But they absolutely should not be doing that!
Bad ovaries! Down girls! No squeezing or grinning for you.
He gives me a quick one-armed hug and cheek kiss before taking Elizabeth’s bag from me and leading us into the house.
“So, what have you got planned tonight? I mean, I’ll never complain about having this ray of sunshine overnight, but you don’t usually go off-schedule.
You got a big date?” he asks nonchalantly, as he puts Lizzie down and hands her an apple juice.
Like it’s a joke and there’s no way that would ever be the case.
I know he doesn’t mean it to be, but it still stings like an insult, and really doesn’t help with my nerves.
“Actually yeah. I have a date.” I’m surprised he doesn’t break his neck by how fast he snaps his head in my direction. His assessing gaze takes in my appearance as if only just noticing that I've made an effort. Ouch.
“You…what? You actually have a date?” The barbs just keep on coming! He must notice my expression fall because he immediately takes a step towards me and quickly follows up with, “No, Shari, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…you never date. I didn’t even know you’d met anyone.”
“Well, it’s new. The girls set up a Love After Life account for me last week. He reached out straight away and we've been texting a lot. He asked me out, and I figured why not, right? I may be old compared to you, but I’m too young to give up on love and become a crazy dog lady.”
“Ok, first of all, you're not old and stop with this ‘compared to you’ bollocks. I’ve never had an issue with our age gap. You know that and you’re projecting. Secondly, isn’t it meant to be a crazy cat lady?”
“Yeah, but dogs! All the liddle bitty puppies and the oldies doing slow zoomies, the floppy ears and the cute little boopers and gaaahhh!! I’d have a house full of dogs if I didn’t think Little Miss here would traumatise them.
Pickles is enough for now.” I bend down and punctuate the sentiment with a kiss on the top of Lizzie’s head, which sets her off on a squeal of giggles and shouting our dog's name.
Brad and I join in with the laughter because that shit is contagious, and when I look at them together my heart flips over itself.
Again. My Elizabeth looks so much like her daddy, with their gorgeous turquoise eyes and golden waves.
Their matching grins always make it harder for me to separate my complicated feelings for Brad.
“So, what do we know about this guy? Where are you meeting him? Do you want me to phone you in an hour in case you need a fake escape?”
“Wow, interrogation much?”
“Daddy kiss!” a little voice interrupts. It’s a new game Elizabeth loves playing. She’ll demand this from each of us, and they have to be big, overdramatic events.
Brad picks her up and obliges with a big noisy smack on her cheek and she giggles her approval.
“His name is Tony, and he’s an electrical engineer,” I ignore Brad’s scoff, “and we’re going for a drink at My Place.
I don’t need a rescue call because Max has already insisted on doing it.
” Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to see all three of my besties trying to camouflage themselves in the bar.
“WHAT?!” Brad roars, startling Lizzie. He apologises and rubs her back as he whisper shouts, “You've invited him your house on the first date?
Shari, no! What if he's a complete nutter and now he knows where you live?
What if he's awful and you can't get rid of him? Oh, this is bad, Blaze.” His sock-covered feet begin to wear a path on the laminate floor as my initial confusion morphs into amusement.
“Brad,” I chuckle, “no! Not my place as in my house. The bar in town called My Place!”
He stops in his tracks with a mumbled, “Oh, thank fuuu—dge,” because little ears.
Elizabeth takes this pause to yell, “Mama kiss!” I plant three big sloppy kisses just under her ear and revel in the laughter it elicits.
Just as Brad is about to say something that will no doubt annoy me, judging by the look on his face, our daughter screams, “Daddy kiss Mama!” Well, that’s new.
She’s looking between us excitedly and clapping her little chubby hands.
Neither of us is likely to deny our baby, so I present my cheek for Brad to peck.
But instead of the loud smacking kiss I’m expecting, he brushes a tender kiss too close to the corner of my mouth to be accidental.
My lashes flutter as I pull away, stunned into silence for once in my life.
The palpable tension is only broken by Lizzie’s delighted screeching.
I clear my throat and ask, “How's Larissa? I'm surprised you didn't invite her over for a babysitting date.”
Brad's eyes harden. “Blaze, Lizzie is my daughter. I'm not babysitting her, I'm being her dad.”
Heart, meet ovaries, because I can definitely feel my pulse there right now. Seriously, these organs need to calm down with all their activity today.
“And we agreed that you'd be present for her first meeting with Lizzie.”
“I know we did, but you've been seeing her for a few months now.
I guess I'm just surprised that you haven't even mentioned setting a date for that yet, seeing as I met Larissa myself nearly a month ago. I thought things were going well between you?” Not me hating myself for being hopeful that he says no.
“Are you saying you're ready for me to introduce Lizzie to Larissa?”
“No!” I deny too quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, well, I just...I just want you to be happy, Brad. And if that's with Larissa, then, yeah. Maybe it's time we introduce them.”
He doesn't say anything. Just studies me with an unreadable expression and I hate when I can't read him like this.
“Well, on that note, I’m going to head out. Bye, baby girl, be good for Daddy and I’ll see you in the morning for brekkie, ok? I love you, my munchkin.”
“Luvoo, Mama!” Man, I hope she never grows out of that.
“Text me when you get home, Shari. I just need to know that you’re safe. Please?” Brad’s concern both surprises and warms me. No! No warming! Stop that right now, you stupid emotions. You are not welcome here thankyouverymuch.
“Umm, yeah. Ok. Have a good night.”
Ugh, why does my baby daddy have to be just so…so…everything?!
As I walk into the bar, my nerves skyrocket. I'd been pretty calm about it until now, but the reality of actually going on my first first date in basically two decades is finally dawning on me.
What if he's a douche? What if he's great and I'm a total mess? Oh god, what if he stands me up?!
This was a terrible idea. There's still time for me to make my escape and I'll just apologise that something came up and I couldn't make it. I'm about to spin back to the door when I hear my name called. Shit, too late now.
I turn towards the voice and am pleasantly surprised to see that he does indeed look like his photos.
..until he stands from his barstool. I swear his profile said he was six-foot-four.
Did I misread it? Because I'm five-foot-nine and wearing three-inch heels, and this guy barely clears my chin. Maybe it said five-foot-four?
His voice breaks through my stunned contemplation, “Wow, Sherry, you look even better than your photos!” His eyes creep slowly over my body in blatant perusal, but it makes me feel anything but attractive.
“Hi Tony, it's nice to meet you. And my name is actually pronounced Shah-ree. Rhymes with…Ferrari?”
“Sure, hun,” his dismissive words raise my hackles just as much as his predatory stare lingering on my cleavage. This can't be the same guy who I've been chatting with all week.
This was such a bad idea. Why is it that Brad's lustful gaze doesn't creep me out, but this guy makes my skin crawl? And why am I even thinking about Brad right now?
Tony finally manages to tear his eyes away from my chest and pulls a barstool out for me. Ok, that's at least a gentlemanly thing to do, so let's not criticise him too quickly. Be open-minded.
The combined smell of the overspill of beers in the drip trays is unmistakable since we’re sat right in-front of a row of taps, and it turns my stomach. Always has, ever since I worked in a pub during my uni days.
Once we've ordered our drinks, he turns to me and says, “So, you said you have a daughter. Is she your only one?”
Immediately, a smile washes over my face. “Yes! My Lizzie. You said you don't have any kids?”
“No, sadly, it wasn't in God's plan for my ex-wife and I.”
“I’m so sorry, I know how hard that can be on a marriage.”
“Is that why you and your husband divorced so soon after you got pregnant?”
His question confuses me at first. “I’m sorry, I'm not sure what you mean?”
“Well, you told me your daughter isn't two yet, but you've clearly been divorced long enough to consider dating again. Did the stress of having a newborn later in life after trying for so long tear you apart?”
I'm somewhat stunned by the bluntness of his clarification. “No,” I say slowly. “My ex-husband and I divorced two years before I got pregnant. He's not part of this equation because he's not the father.”
Tony blinks at me and his expression morphs with his thoughts. “You had your baby out of wedlock? With a man whom you were never married to at all?”
I blink back. Is he for real? “Yes, Tony. Because it's 2025 and women have all kinds of rights now. Including the choice to have a baby ‘out of wedlock’, as you say.” I punctuate the ridiculously archaic phrase with air quotes.
Tony clears his throat and seems to make a decision to try and reroute this soon-to be train-wreck of a date. “Right, right. And you mentioned that you're a surveyor of some sort. What is it you...survey?”