Chapter 12
Sydney
“Girl, you ready?”
Ugh. Why am I doing this? How did I let these girls convince me to go out? I’m way too old for clubbing. “Genni, do we really need—”
“Don’t even finish that question. The answer is yes. The last thing you need to do today is hold up in your house like a prisoner on death row.”
Today . She’s referring to my anniversary. And I know she’s right.
I’ve been trudging through the day like I’m starring in The Day of the Living Dead . Whoever said things get easier with time was never in love with Matteo Bianchi. As the years pass, time only forces me to try and push myself to rejoin the living and get back out there. But I can’t pretend to be over him. So, I focus on my anger at what he did, so the heartache of losing our life together won’t continue to tear me to pieces.
“Okay, put it this way. You either get all dolled up and be ready for me to come get you in thirty minutes or I’ll be forced to send Carol Ann over there. And that riled up southern mama is much easier to handle with a margarita in hand.”
I wince. She’s right. Not sure I can deal with her sober and on my own.
Genni shifts to the sweet tone she uses when she needs to softly encourage me to face something head on. “Babe, I know how hard this is. Okay, well, I don’t. Not really. I’ve never been swept off of my feet by a hot Italian who later pulled the rug out from under me without a parting glance. But I’m trying to empathize.”
“Thanks for the recap.”
“You’re welcome.” She coos. “Surrounding yourself with friends who love you, men who admire you, and upbeat music has got to be better for you than replaying all of the depressing memories of days gone by. Right? And if none of that works, there’s always tequila.”
“Yes. I know.” I huff. “Okay, I’m ready.” Well, not really. But there’s no avoiding this. Might as well get this night over with. If nothing else, it’ll be nice to have the distraction of my friends. Because I’m sure this is the last time any of them will bring up my ex this evening.
“Good. I’m on the way.”
Thirty minutes later, I observe headlights pulling into my drive through the front windows and head to the door. As I swing it wide, I notice Genni heading in my direction. She’s wearing a slinky red spaghetti strap number that accentuates her long legs. Her beautiful blonde hair is in an intricate up do. The addition of dangly earrings brings more attention to her neck and gorgeous gray eyes. My friend is stunning. The only thing off is the odd expression she’s wearing.
“What’s wrong?”
She tilts her head. “What’s with Indiana Jones over there?”
Stepping out onto my porch, I lean forward and take in my eccentric neighbor. He’s decked out in cargo pants, a white T-shirt and vest, and wearing a pith helmet with a light attached like some archeologist. Yet instead of excavating for artifacts at some historic landmark, he’s planting poppies along the shrubs of his front yard.
“Is he putting the house up for sale tomorrow or something?”
“No.” I laugh, lowering my voice and ushering her in. “He’s definitely an odd duck.” My mind instantly flashes to the fits of giggles I’d have when Matteo would spy on him from between the drawn blinds of our windows with his binoculars. The humor falls at the memory of my over inquisitive, handsome husband and instead causes my heart to squeeze. We’re not going there, remember, Syd? “I think he works nights and so his clock is off. He even cuts the grass in the dark.”
“That’s not all that’s off there.” Genni shakes her head. “You look fantastic, Syd.”
“You sure?” I rarely get dressed up like this anymore. Looking down at my shimmering silver dress and four-inch heels, I have to acknowledge I feel pretty sexy. Even if the reason for this night out is weighing me down. “It’s not too much?”
“Are you kidding? You look like a sex kitten in that outfit. Men are going to be pawing at you all night.”
I spin on my heel, planning to return to the bedroom to change. I’m definitely not interested in getting pawed .
Genni grabs my arm. “Stop right there. It was merely a figure of speech. We’ll protect you. Hell, Carol Ann will be with us. I dare a guy to put his hands on you.”
This makes me laugh out loud. That girl. She’s such a ball buster. Has she ever had a weak moment in her life?
“Grab your purse. We need to get this party started.”
Reaching for my clutch, I grab my keys, follow Genni out of the door, and turn to lock up when I suddenly have the ominous sensation of being watched. Standing up straight, a shiver travels down my spine, and I look in both directions. For what, I have no idea. Then my eyes connect with the bright light of my neighbor’s headgear and my shoulders relax.
“Freak,” Genni mumbles under her breath as she links her arm through mine, walking to her car.
“Well, it’s about time!” Carol Ann belts out as we approach the booth she and Pepper are sitting at. “I thought we were going to have to send a search party.”
“Chill, missy. We’re not that late,” Genni scolds.
“You’ve been missing some prime people watching,” Pepper adds with a comical grin on her face.
“Oh, the night’s just getting started. It’ll only get more entertaining from here,” Genni says as she raises her hand to signal a server. “Can we get two margaritas with salt?” She turns to point at the table. “And another round of whatever these two lushes are drinking.”
“You’ve got it,” the perky twenty something responds before rushing off.
“Oh, to be young and energetic,” Pepper says as she watches our server nearly skip to the bar, her sleek dark brown high pony swinging behind her.
“You’re young,” Genni corrects.
“Not like that. And I’m exhausted.”
“You work as a nanny. No wonder you’re worn out.”
“Yeah. The only thing worse than watching my crazy spawn would be taking care of someone else’s.”
“Carol Ann, your kids are great.”
She leans back, quirking a brow in my direction. “Did you two enjoy a little edible action on your way here? My kids are ridiculous. One of them had the gosh darn nerve to tell me I had to put together a President Lincoln costume for him before I left tonight because he needed it for a report in class tomorrow. Like I’ve got a black top-hat or a cravat lying around. Like when did he find out about this nonsense?”
Pepper and I laugh. Anytime I start to feel sorry for myself, second guessing whether I should’ve had children earlier, one story from Carol Ann, and I have to rethink my life goals.
“So, what’s he going to wear tomorrow?”
“Hell if I know. I told him he and his daddy better figure it out. Not like his hillbilly of a father has a double-breasted jacket or a vest lying around.” She lifts her bright red drink to her lips and takes a sip before giving me a flat expression. “I’m lucky if he wears a clean T-shirt without profanity on it to church.”
The buoyant cocktail waitress returns with our drinks and deposits them in front of us. Leaning down over my shoulder, she whispers, “I just love your dress. It’s gorgeous.”
“See,” Genni mutters before lifting her margarita to her mouth and licking a piece of salt from the rim.
“Thank you.”
“You do look fantastic, Syd.” Pepper lifts her glass in the air. “To Sydney. One hot momma.”
“To Sydney,” they chime in.
My eyes dart around the room. I again have that odd sensation, as if someone’s watching me. Maybe it’s because I’m here with the girls. They’re all stunners. Then add to it Carol Ann’s voice only knowing one volume. Over the top, loud and brassy.
As if on cue, “These girls.” Carol Ann shakes her head. “Like look at that one. If her dress was any shorter, you could see what she had for lunch.”
I immediately choke on my drink. Thank god none of the tequila came out of my nose.
Genni gently pats me on the back. “Oh, my god. Carol Ann. You need to warn a person before you say shit like that. We might have to give the poor doctor the Heimlich or something.”
She simply shrugs her shoulders, taking another sip of her cocktail. “She should know better by now.”
Facts .
“Oh, check out that guy, Syd. He’s hot.” Pepper points to a tall, good-looking man with salt and pepper hair at his temples. He’s a bit overly muscular for my taste.
Carol Ann huffs. “Not no, but heck no.”
“What? Why?”
“Look at him. He’s huge. He’d smother me. At least with Skeeter, I can get in a good nap until he’s done.”
And there goes that tequila through my nostrils. Man, that burns.
“Jesus, Carol Ann. Are you trying to kill Sydney?”
She merely blinks at us.
“You guys want to order some appetizers?”
“That’d be a hard pass from me. I’m so broke my ATM gave me the middle finger today. Besides, I ate before I came.”
I laugh, hoping she’s exaggerating. Yet you never really know what’s real with this girl. “Yes. I’m starving. Order anything you want. Just make sure to include a plate of nachos.”
“Well, can you two order a few items? I’m getting Sydney out on the dance floor before the margaritas kick in, and she’s too full of Mexican food to get her groove on.” Genni tugs on my arm, and I begrudgingly get up.
We make our way to the sea of undulating bodies and squeeze in until we can find enough room for two to move without rubbing up against a complete stranger. Suddenly, the music changes to “APT.” by ROSé & Bruno Mars. The tune is so catchy you can’t help but bounce and sway to it. Watching my gorgeous friend confidently swing her hips from side to side has me grinning.
All of a sudden, I feel warm hands curl around my hips, and my eyes widen. Genni bites down on her lower lip, beaming over my shoulder. What the heck? Glancing up, I find an insanely attractive man smiling down at me. I know this brings no end of enjoyment to my friend, but I’m irritated when anyone puts their hands on me without express permission first.
Pushing his hands off of me, I reach for Genni’s wrist and tug her along behind me as we head back to the table.
“What’s wrong? He was hot.”
I roll my eyes. Once I reach the girls, I’m relieved to see the food is already there. How old am I that I’d rather stuff my face with spicy tortilla chips and people watch with my friends than dance with a hot tamale?
“What happened there?” Pepper asks around a bite of mozzarella stick. The gooey cheese trailing from her fingers to her lips.
“Not interested.”
“Why the heck not? He was finer than a frog hair.”
I reach for a chip and load it with cheese. “Then you dance with him.”
“You got better odds of seeing Elvis than me saying yes to that.”
“You just said he was fine.”
“You’re darn tootin’. And if I was single, I’d be all over that like stink on a monkey.” She glances back over at where the man in question was last seen. “But it took me too many years to break in my husband to start over with someone else now.” She shakes her head. “And with all my kids, I don’t care how hot he is. I look forward to bedtime for one reason. Sleep!”
This girl. I wish I could live like she does. She doesn’t give two shits what anyone thinks. Sure, it could be a cover. I have no idea what her life is really like. I don’t know if she lets Genni or Pepper in close enough to know the reality of her situation. But you have to give it to a girl with this much gumption. My guess is it’d take a lot to rattle her cage.
“I just don’t need any man thinking he can swoop in and lay his hands on me without knowing my name first. It’s rude.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Carol Ann lifts her glass as if to toast mine. She takes a long sip before returning her gaze to the dance floor. “But that right there.” She snorts. “That I can definitely argue with. I mean, what in tarnation is that chick wearing? I’ve seen more clothes at a nude beach than what that girl has on.”
The three of us follow her line of sight until we spot her. The woman has to be in her forties and is wearing a skirt that resembles a flesh-colored loin cloth. Her top isn’t much better.
Carol Ann leans forward and squints. “Are those Band-aids covering her nipples?”
The server, who’s just walked up to our table with another round of drinks, lets out a laugh. “Or pasties connected by a chain.”
“You have to give her credit for trying,” Pepper adds.
“Well, it’s like putting lipstick on a pig.”
“Carol Ann!” Genni scolds.
“What? There ain’t no sense in calling it anything but what it is. That old bird is hoping to land a young buck in here. I mean, why in the Sam Hill would anyone dress like that otherwise?”
The poor woman with unfortunate taste in attire nearly falls over in her attempts to drop it like it’s hot as Snoop Dogg raps his song to that affect.
“Hells bells, she’s drunker than Cooter Brown.”
I giggle. She’s right. “I just hope she doesn’t hurt herself.”
“Or anyone else.” Pepper cackles and takes another sip of her frozen cocktail. “Something tells me that wouldn’t be a smooth landing.”
“Hello, ladies. I was wondering if you’d like to dance.”
Glancing up, I notice an attractive dark, curly-haired man with big brown eyes holding out his hand in invitation to Pepper.
“Um, sure.” She blushes and rises to her feet, accepting his hand.
“Now, that’s the way it should be done.” I lift my margarita to my mouth.
“You’re right,” they agree.
Watching the two of them on the dance floor together makes me smile. Pepper is a sweet girl. She’s the youngest of the four of us, by nearly ten years. But she’s incredibly mature for her age. Genni and she have been friends for years. From what I gather, she has a lot on her plate, raising her little brother. She doesn’t date much, focusing instead on trying to get in to nursing school and keeping her brother on the straight and narrow. She’s worried he’ll end up mixed with the wrong crowd if she’s not careful.
“I’ve got to hit the ladies’ room. Anyone coming?” Genni asks.
“Sure, I’ll go.” We both stand and look across the party goers for the restrooms. Surprisingly, there doesn’t seem to be a long line as in previous visits here.
The Zone is a two-story club on the outskirts of Hanover. It has a trendy vibe and has stayed quite popular since it opened a few years back. Plus, it’s a great place to let loose without having to travel into downtown Richmond.
An array of eclectic furniture pieces surrounds the oversized dance floor. There are bistro tables and chairs, some couches and loungers, and booths set up on the right side of the club. Glancing up, I spot bodies leaning forward against a railing as they view the action on the main floor.
A large wooden bar extends the length of the club on the left, with multiple bartenders frantically pouring concoctions for the cluster of patrons amassed there. As we make our way to the restroom, I see a dancer on a podium nearby, stopping to offer shots to a man holding out money to them.
“The line isn’t long. I’ll wait here, okay?”
“You didn’t have to go?”
“No, just didn’t want you standing in line alone.”
“You’re so good to me.” Genni sends an air kiss before walking away.
After she disappears inside, I move to an empty high top cocktail table and lean against it, watching the merriment around me.
“Hi. Care to dance?”
I pivot on my heel to find an attractive blond. “No, thank you. Just waiting on a friend.” I thumb toward the restroom, and he gives a curt nod before walking away.
Looking over the dance floor again, I get that familiar sensation I’m being watched. But these places are often a meat market with men of all ages, and marital status, looking to score.
“You look like sex on legs in this dress,” a deep voice slurs.
Narrowing my eyes at the audacity of this man, I spin to find none other than Matteo Bianchi standing a hair’s breadth from me.
“Happy anniversary, Princessa.”
“Ha.” I practically spit.
With that, he appears to lose his cool, quickly stepping into my personal space. Reaching up to wrap his hand around my throat, he plants a soul searing kiss on my lips. I should be outraged. Madder than a wet hornet, as Carol Ann would say. Yet the familiar domineering sensation of his hand on me as his heady lips devour mine nearly has me off-kilter. I have to grasp the table to steady myself. Matteo angles my face slightly to allow the kiss to deepen. He tastes of whiskey, control, and every wet dream I’ve had since I met him.
As he releases me to look down in my eyes, I notice his pupils are nearly black. Only a trace of the dazzling green irises remains. God, I miss this man.
This revelation awakens me from my cloudy lust-filled haze, and clarity comes flooding back. “You’re drunk.” Figures. Can’t even enjoy that long awaited kiss because I know he’s not in his right mind.
Enjoy it. For gosh sakes, Sydney. Why would you want this man to kiss you after all he’s done? “Are you following me?”
“And what if I am?”
This is ridiculous. I’m sure he’s here with his cronies. Probably looking to score with some pretty young thing. I should point him in the direction of the woman in the loincloth. This thought makes me snort.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” I spit. “Thinking you can suddenly come around, acting possessive after so long.” I’m certain it’s the only reason he’s hanging around. Doesn’t like the thought of anyone else playing with his toys. He didn’t have any real feelings for me. He couldn’t have to have ended it the way he did. Heck, I wonder if he truly ever did.
He looks away briefly, and I decide to return to my table before he makes a scene. He must realize I’ve left as all of a sudden, I hear him bellow, “Where’s my wife?”
My eyes roll at the absurdity of it. If he possessed any genuine feelings, I’d think maybe this day was making him as melancholy as it was me. But I’m sure that’s not it.
“Ex-wife, you maniac.”
Matteo laughs. It’s almost maniacal. “No. You only think so.”
“You’re delusional.” I cross my arms over my chest and notice how his gaze drops to the swell of my breasts before he drags his tongue over his lower lip. This should make me angry. Instead, I almost palm myself in the forehead for getting turned on by it. “But maybe it’s the whiskey talking. You should watch that. Didn’t you say alcohol problems run in your family?”
Matteo steps back, his face looking momentarily as if I’ve slapped him. His jaw tenses. “The papers were never filed,” he snarls.
“Right. I’m quite certain they were. Now if you will excuse—”
“Don’t believe me, mia cara? Call your expensive lawyer.”
My mouth goes dry.
What is he saying?
“You’re my wife! And you always will be.”