Chapter 24 Tony The Phoney #2
“Oh, I'm a Quantity Surveyor for Danford Woodman. The construction company.”
For some reason, this seems to take him even more aback than having a baby in my unmarried state with a man who isn't my ex-husband.
With his prolonged silence, I decide to charge ahead as if he wasn't staring at me in.
..disgust? “And you're an electrical engineer, is that right? Are you freelance, or do you work for a company?”
“So, you work in the construction industry?”
Ok, guess we're still on me. “Yes, I have done for about fifteen years now, and have been with Danford Woodman for the last seven.”
“With a load of men? Closely? Day in and day out, just builders and tradesmen everywhere?”
Second red flag alert! Or is it the third? Well, at least he's showing those true colours early. Red, red, red. “I mostly work with men, yes, but I'm not the only woman in the company,” I reply.
His jaw clenches and I notice his fists doing the same.
“A woman like you shouldn't be cavorting with so many men. Wouldn't you prefer to work in a girly environment like a department store where you can all just stack throw pillows and gossip?”
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” I splutter because I. Am. Stunned.
“No. A woman doesn't belong in a male-dominated field like construction. Even if your role isn't a physical one. People might think you're easy if you're always hanging around men. Add in the fact that you had a child with someone other than your ex-husband and it'll be a foregone conclusion.”
Yeeeaahhh, I think we're done here. What a fuckwad!
He takes my prolonged silence as acquiescence and continues, “You see, Shari, the Lord didn't create women to work, at least not in male industries. It takes a man's intellect for these roles. Women do well in more nurturing environments such as housekeeping or teaching or as nannies—”
“So it takes a man's intellect for construction, but we meek and useless women are ok to be the ones who teach them? Are you listening to yourself?”
Thankfully, my phone starts to ring and I'm so relieved that Max insisted on the escape call. Except when I look at the screen, it's Brad's name I see.
“Brad? What's wrong? Is Lizzie ok??” I ask in a panic.
His soothing voice placates my immediate fear, “No, no. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out. She's fine. We're fine. I know it's early, but I just wanted to check on you in case you couldn't wait for Max to call. Do you need saving?”
Is it just me, or does he sound hopeful? I melt a little at his concern.
“You know what? I do need saving, actually. Can I come over to say goodnight to our girl?” I don't even care that Tony can hear every word.
“We're already outside in the carpark in case you needed us.” This man always knows how to turn me into a puddle. Puddles McGee, at your service!
I look up at Tony and his flared nostrils, and hold eye contact when I reply, “I’m coming out now. I was about to leave anyways.”
I hang up, place some cash on the bar for the drink I haven't even touched yet, and call out over my shoulder as I walk away, “Sorry, Tony, but I don't date bible-bashing misogynists!”
As I step outside, my phone starts ringing again, “Brad beat you to it, babe!”
Max screeches, “What? What do you mean? Why is Brad on your date?!”
I can't help but laugh. “No, he called me a minute ago in case I needed saving sooner than when you were due to phone. He and Elizabeth are waiting for me in the carpark already. Can I call you when I get home? I want to help put Lizzie to bed, but then I need to vent to you about Tony the phoney!”
“I can't wait to hear about it if you've already given him a negative nickname. But I'm also more interested in the fact that your hot baby daddy is so concerned about you that he waited in the carpark with your child in case you needed him, Shari!”
You and me, both.
“Thanks again for saving me earlier,” I state quietly as we walk down the stairs to Brad's kitchen. Elizabeth was so excited when I came back to the house with them that she insisted we both read her favourite book to her twice before she fell asleep.
“Any time, Shari. I mean it. These pricks are all out for one thing, and you deserve better than that.” He hands me a glass of wine that I didn't ask for but, what the hell, one won't hurt. It's not like I even got to drink at the bar.
We take our drinks into his living room and sit on the small, cream leather sofa. Brad's place might be snug, but I've always loved how cosy it is.
“So, spill, what did that twat do to upset you? Did he touch you?” his brows are furrowed in concern. We're sitting so close that our knees touch where we're slightly angled towards one another, and a rush of heat flares across my skin from the epicentre of contact.
I scoff, “Oh, hell no. He was just a run of the mill misogynistic asshole with a side of piousness. Did you know that a woman like me shouldn't work in a male-dominated field because I'll be seen as easy? Plus, I had a child out of wedlock – the horror!” I couldn't stop my eye roll if you paid me.
“The fuck? Did he really say that?”
“Yep!” I pop the p, “Also, that ‘the Lord’ basically made women to be servants with no brains. Or at least that's what I took from his holier-than-thou bullshit.”
“I don't even...just...what the fuck is wrong with people?” Brad's tone rises with incredulity.
“Yeah,” I draw out the word. “It really wasn't the best start to my dating journey.”
Brad's gaze flicks between my eyes as his jaw flexes. “Are you actually considering going on more dates? After that shit show?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, that was only my first one, and sure, it sucked, but I can't assume all men are the same,” I reply, confused.
“Maybe I should come with you to the next one. Scope him out.”
Laughing, I nudge his knee with my own, “What? Brad! You can't chaperone my dates!”
“Why not?” His face is so serious that it makes me laugh harder.
“Because! It's weird! And also not the eighteen hundreds.”
His lips finally twitch into a smile. “Well, maybe it's a practice we should bring back. Or start anew. Baby Daddy Chaperones,” he uses his hands as if to envisage the sign before us.
Brad's grin softens and dims, “In all seriousness, I'd do anything to keep you safe.”
“I know that,” I reply quietly, staring into my glass. “It's why I chose you to father my child,” I snicker, attempting to break the sudden rising tension between us.
I expect him to laugh, but instead Brad stares at me with an intensity I can feel in my stomach. Lower. This is bad. Every time he's looked at me like this, we've either fought, or I've gotten pregnant. Neither of those options is a good idea right now.
He leans in so slowly, like he knows any sudden movements might scare me off, but I really don't want to be anywhere else right now, and my eyes snap back to his.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear as his thumb gently strokes my cheek, and my skin breaks out into a wave of goosebumps at that small contact.
Or maybe it's the memory of what those talented hands can do.
Just as our lips touch, a jarring ringing sounds from his crotch, making us jump apart. Oh wait, that's not his crotch warning us to separate, it's just his girlfriend calling him. Which is undeniably worse. His girlfriend, Shari! Get your shit together!
As Brad answers the phone, I take the opportunity to grab some kitchen roll to wipe up the wine I spilt when I jolted from the phone call, and order an Uber whilst I'm at it.
Thankfully, the cab's only two minutes away, so I grab my bag, poke my head back into the living room and whisper shout, “My taxi is here so I'll see you and Lizzie at breakfast. Night!” And I run out the door before he can reply because I'm a coward.
A conflicted, terrified coward who might just be in love with her unavailable baby daddy.
What even is my life right now.