11. 11
Annabelle
Now
I mutter under my breath, “This feels more like work than fun,” as Laura hauls me along behind her, heading to the open bar. Finally.
Ever the consummate professional, Laura made me waste several hours schmoozing.
She handed out free tickets and backstage passes to thank our biggest advertising sponsors, which meant we had to talk shop and network.
She didn’t even let me have a drink until we’d finished making the rounds.
With every passing minute, I’m getting grumpier.
“I’m not paying my babysitter to watch the girls on a Saturday just so I can waste my free time sucking up to clients.”
“Stop being such a whiner,” Laura nudges me. “We’re off the clock now, and our girls’ night out can officially start. Let’s get some alcohol into you. Vodka soda?” She arches a brow at me, waiting for my acquiescence before placing our order with the bartender.
After we get our drinks, I ask, “Lining up any more dates for me?”
Weeks ago, when Laura set up my online dating profiles, I never would have thought I’d be enjoying it as much as I am.
“Nope, but I thought we could find you one here, bestie .”
The perverse happiness radiating from Laura’s face sets off alarm bells in my brain. She looks happier than a pig in shit. Which is a saying that doesn’t make much sense since pigs are one of the cleanest animal species.
“What? No,” I reply. Initially, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of using dating apps, but I’ve come around to the idea.
If I’m being honest, I enjoy being lazy and having Laura do the dirty work for me.
She vets the guys, weeding out the weirdos, and all I do is show up.
So far, I’ve been on three informal coffee dates, all of which were pleasant experiences.
No second dates or immediate love connections, but no horror stories, either.
But I’m hopeful I’ll meet Mr. Right sooner or later. Preferably sooner.
“Yes. You need to practice your flirting skills. You’re a little rusty.
" Laura’s convinced that the reason I haven’t had any second dates is because I’m not flirtatious enough.
Which… fair. I’m not. But I keep waiting to find that person I click with, where the conversation flows and we vibe easily.
I don’t want to force things just so I can go on a couple more dates. "C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Laura coaxes.
It doesn’t sound fun. It sounds scary and anxiety-provoking .
“Just try to keep an open mind and loosen up, Anna.” When I stay quiet, she persists, “Weren’t you the one who wanted to meet someone the old-fashioned way?”
“That was before I realized how easy it was on the dating apps,” I lament.
“Oh crap, I see one more client I need to greet. You stay here and keep your eyes peeled for cute single guys. I’ll be back in a minute, and I’ll even bring you a fresh drink. Okay?”
“Fine,” I sigh. It’s easier to agree than to argue. “But make my drink a double.”
I’ll need it if she’s really going to make me strike up conversations and flirt with guys tonight. Surely, she won’t. That seems like a cruel and unusual punishment for someone who hasn’t dated since before Hamilton opened on Broadway. But if she does, liquid courage will be required.
“Hey, when you get back, let’s head out to watch the next band,” I suggest.
Laura narrows her eyes. With suspicion lacing her voice, she asks, “You want to listen to a country concert?”
No, I absolutely do not, but if it means I don’t have to make small talk and hit on random men backstage, then yes, I absolutely do. The lesser of two evils.
“Sure, might be fun,” I nod with false enthusiasm, sipping my cocktail.
After Laura leaves, I’m left to my own devices.
Feeling awkward standing alone in a crowd of strangers, I wander to the food station to browse its offerings.
Not only because I’m starving but also to have something to do.
The buffet looks decent, and there’s a nice variety.
I grab a plate and begin internally debating which appetizers to try.
Although I’d love to sample all of them, the small plates necessitate choices.
A deep voice startles me out of my quandary. “I’d suggest staying away from the crab cakes and the chicken salad, but the cheeseburger sliders are good.”
“You had me at cheese,” I reply, turning to glance at the man speaking.
He’s cute, maybe a little older than me, but his ornery smile makes him look younger.
My first impression is that he seems like the type who was voted class clown in high school, but upon closer inspection, I amend my previous assumption.
He’s too pretty. I bet he was the type who got caught under the bleachers with a different cheerleader each week.
“After eating at these types of events for years, I can give you the rundown. But the safest rule of thumb is to avoid seafood and mayonnaise. That shit goes bad fast.”
He’s wrong about the mayonnaise, but I don’t correct him. In scientific studies, commercially made mayonnaise, which has all kinds of preservatives in it, has been shown to slow the growth of bacteria when mixed with contaminated proteins.
Since I’m a closet nerd, as Laura says, I don’t tell him any of that, though.
“Well, thank you for your completely unsolicited, yet helpful, advice.”
“I do what I can, ma’am.” He tips his cowboy hat in my direction.
His schtick is a little over the top, but there’s something charming about him.
Yep, I think he got under more than one cheerleader’s skirt in his time.
When he smiles, it’s infectious, and I can’t resist returning his grin.
“You planning on sticking around here for a while? I need to get back to work soon, but I’d love to continue our conversation later. ”
“Conversation? We’ve only exchanged a few words.”
“Then let’s exchange a few more, darlin’.” Again, over the top, but in a likeable way.
“Alright then. And to answer your earlier question, yes, I’m sure I’ll be here until the bitter end. I’m just tagging along with my best friend, and she’s a huge country music fan.”
“The bitter end, huh? Something about that statement makes me think you aren’t a fan.”
Given that he’s wearing a cowboy hat and boots, it’s obvious he is a country music fan. I don’t want to insult him, so I tell a little white lie. “It’s not my favorite music genre, but it’s growing on me.”
He presses his lips together to bite back another smile. “You looked like you were physically in pain when you said that.” He tilts his head to the side and adds, “Or possibly constipated.”
A burst of laughter pops out of my mouth, loud enough to cause a few people nearby to turn and look. “Okay, fine. I don’t really care about country music. Satisfied?” I admit, rolling my eyes as he smiles.
“Think you’ll survive an entire night of this terrible country music?”
“I’ll survive.” Scrunching up my nose, I lean toward him, letting him in on a little secret. “I brought earplugs.”
He barks out a laugh, shaking his head, before glancing at the digital clock on the wall. “Look, I really have to get back to work, but I’ve enjoyed chatting with you. Any chance I could get your number? Maybe we could meet up for a drink this week?”
“Sure, that sounds fun.” He hands me his phone, and I type in my name and number. “I’m Anna, by the way. ”
Grabbing my fingers, he surprises me by bringing them to his mouth and kissing the top of my hand. Such a flirt. “I’m Josh. It was a pleasure, Anna. I’ll call you so we can set something up for later in the week. Sorry to dash, but duty calls. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
That was strange. But fun. With the cushion of vodka, this flirting stuff is easier than I expected.
Handing me my drink, Laura gestures with her thumb to Josh’s retreating back. “Umm, who was that? And what just happened between you two?”
“That was Josh. He works here. And he asked me out for drinks,” I squeal, smiling.
“Hell’s bells! That was fast. Color me impressed!”
“The student has become the master,” I kid, elbowing Laura.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she laughs. “But that was good work.”
As the drinks flow, we chitchat about life. “How’s the home search going?”
“Not well. I can’t find anything suitable in Brentwood that’s in my price range.
I'd hoped that by showing the girls new houses, they would get excited about moving, but everything we’re looking at is smaller and older than our current house.
So, of course, they aren’t excited.“ I sigh, taking another long sip of my drink.
“Have you considered moving out of Brentwood?” Laura eyes me speculatively.
“Claire and Grace are so young, and you don’t love their private school.
It’s expensive, and everyone who attends is privileged and bratty.
You always complain about how spoiled and out of touch with reality the families are. ”
She’s not wrong. Grace and Claire attend Wesley Hall only because Kyle wanted them to. It was another item on his keeping up with the Joneses checklist of success .
Big house—check.
Nice cars—check.
Fancy vacations—check.
Private school educations—check.
None of those things were ever important to me, which is a good thing, since I can no longer afford any of them.
I ponder the idea of leaving Brentwood altogether. With Claire starting kindergarten next year, it would be the perfect time for her to switch schools. Grace is so smart and socially savvy that she could flourish anywhere. If we switch schools, they could get a fresh start.
I could too. Being the subject of gossip hasn’t been easy to ignore. It’d be nice to move to a new neighborhood where no one knows our history.
“Maybe,” I reply noncommittally.
“I don’t mean to pressure you. Selfishly, if you moved into Nashville proper, I’d love to have you and the girls closer to me, that’s all.”
“Selfishly, I’d love that too.”
“Think how easy it would be to meet up for Sunday brunch or to go to the farmer’s market on a Saturday afternoon. Could be fun.”
As I sip my drink, I mull it over. After planting the seed, the idea is growing on me. I don’t think I realized how much I don’t enjoy living in Brentwood until the idea of escaping it was broached.
Perhaps moving out of Brentwood is the answer. I’d be closer to work. The girls and I could all get fresh starts. It would be cheaper. We’d be closer to Laura. I should email Marsha and ask to expand my property search to include certain neighborhoods in Nashville.
“Hey, Anna,” mutters Laura, sidling up next to me so that she can turn my body. “Don’t look now, but isn’t that one of Kyle’s co-workers standing over there? To my left. ”
My heart sinks. Crap. Why hadn’t I realized I might run into some of Kyle’s colleagues? I hadn’t even considered the possibility, which was incredibly stupid and short-sighted of me since Kyle worked in the Nashville music industry.
Glancing over my shoulder, I blow out the breath I was holding. “Yeah, that’s Aiden,” I whisper, the nerves taking hold of me.
“Come on, we’re leaving. No good will come from seeing them and making uncomfortable small talk. I don’t want them to ruin our night.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you leave,” I hesitate. “You’re having fun and enjoying the music, and you said your favorite band is playing next.”
“Totally sure, Anna. Let’s just move the party elsewhere. We can hit up a nearby bar.”
“Okay, that sounds great.” I take a deep breath in relief. “Thanks.”
Grabbing my hand, Laura pulls me toward the exit quickly.
As we’re hustling to freedom, I hear a man’s voice call my name over the sounds of the crowds, but I keep moving.