25. The Milf
25
The Milf
Bridget
I ’m standing at the bar eyeing the cocktail menu, trying to decide between a gin and tonic or something a bit more festive when I feel a presence next to me. It’s Christopher’s friend Sam. He has been friends with my son since primary school. Now Sam’s all grown up, tall and broad-shouldered with the sort of charming smile that screams trouble.
“Bri,” Sam says, leaning a little too close, “you’re looking stunning tonight.”
I blink. Bri? Since when has he called me by my first name? And “stunning”? I look around, half expecting to see someone else standing behind me, but no, it’s definitely me he’s talking to. I raise an eyebrow. “You alright, Sam? Had a bit too much champagne, have we?”
He grins, not at all put off. “Nah, just being honest. You’re the hottest mum at the party, easily.”
I snort, trying not to laugh out loud. Hottest mum? This is my son’s wedding party and Sam’s flirting with me like we’re at a dodgy nightclub.
“Well thanks for the compliment,” I say, trying to keep it light, “but maybe save it for the girls your own age, eh?”
But Sam’s not giving up that easily. “Age is just a number Bri. And honestly you don’t look a day over thirty. I’ve always thought you were a bit of a fox, you know.”
I choke on my drink and I’m about to tell him to behave when I hear a loud, unmistakable voice from behind us.
“What’s going on here then?” My ex-husband William is storming over, his face a picture of barely contained fury. He’s got a way of looking completely flustered, like someone just told him his shares have tanked. His eyes flick between me and Sam and I can practically see steam coming out of his ears.
“Oh for god’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. The last thing I need right now is William throwing a tantrum at our son’s wedding party. But of course William being William, he’s not going to let this slide.
“Sam, what do you think you’re doing?” William demands, his voice a bit too loud for the occasion. People are starting to turn and look and I can see Ruthie cringing in the corner with her drink. “That’s Bri! She’s—she’s—” He splutters, his hands flapping in the air. “She’s too old for you!”
“Oh come on William,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just having a laugh.”
But William’s not having any of it. “A laugh? A laugh? This is inappropriate! He’s twenty years younger than you Bri!”
To his credit Sam just stands there with a grin, clearly enjoying winding William up. “Mr Johnson, I’m not sure this is any of your concern but Bri and I were just chatting.”
“Chatting!” William’s practically vibrating with indignation now. “Well, chat somewhere else!”
I grab William by the arm and try to steer him away before he causes a full-blown scene. “Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I hiss. “Calm down. No one’s running off to Vegas to get married. We’re at a wedding party, not an episode of EastEnders.”
But he’s having none of it. “This is outrageous! My ex-wife being hit on by my son’s friend? It’s indecent! Why did you not stop him?. Aren’t you embarrassed to be flirting with someone half your age?” I gasp as anger rises in me but before I can tell him where he can stick his opinion and phony outrage someone else steps between us.
“What’s it got to do with you?” Ruthie suddenly asks from next to me.
“Ruthie—”
“No Dad, Christopher and I never got involved in the divorce but I believe when you signed that piece of paper you lost every right to decide who mum can date and who she can’t. And if a young guy thinks she’s a MILF it’s got nothing to do with you.” I give Ruthie a smile.
“MILF. What’s a MILF?”
“William, you’re such a clueless prude,” I laugh as I walk away from him. I grab a glass of water from the nearest table and head outside. I need some fresh air.
I’m still reeling from the fact that William acts like no one could possibly fancy me, just because he lost every interest in me. That's when Ruthie suddenly appears next to me.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
“Oh, no,” I sigh, already bracing myself. “What now? If this is about your father losing his mind over Sam?”
“No it’s not about Dad.” Ruthie glances around to make sure no one’s listening and pulls me a little further into the garden. “I just wanted to check if you’re okay?”
“I am darling, don’t worry.” William can be a pain in the arse but I don’t let him piss on my fun anymore.
“It’s just that you looked sad in there.” She gives me a small hug.
“I’m fine, trust me.” I take a sip from my glass. Why is Omar’s face invading my thoughts?
“Oh, okay. We haven’t had a chance to chat yet. How was your trip?” We take a seat on one of the benches set out for smokers. Neither Ruthie nor I smoke but the heaters are a welcome source of warmth.
“It was a dream,” I smile. There he is again.
“What’s that smile,” she giggles.
“Don’t tell your dad but I had a one-night-stand. Your old mum.” The only reason I tell her is so I can divert her and my mind from Omar.
“Oh wow. Okay, firstly, you’re not old! Secondly, no details please, I’m happy for you to date but I don’t want details.” She needn’t worry, I hadn’t planned to tell her about bush-dick and his handcuffs. “And thirdly, why a one-night-stand?”
“Why not?” I throw the question back again.
“I guess maybe you’re right. Well, good on you.” A shiver runs through her.
“Darling, go inside. I’ll come in a minute, I just need a little more quiet time,” I give her a hug.
“Okay, oh and mum… stay away from younger guys. You can do much better,” she grins before disappearing into the house.
Is five years younger too young?
"Mom, where are my shoes?" Seriously? I can’t believe we’re doing this again. This time it’s Christopher. He and his new wife have been staying with me for the last two weeks, and now they’re about to fly back to Japan. Suki is lovely and I’m genuinely happy for them both. I really hope it all works out.
“Christopher, you’re 24 and married. Surely you can find your own shoes.”
“Leave it with me, Bridget,” Suki says with a smile and heads off to their room to hunt down the elusive trainers. I lean against the kitchen counter, feeling Bella weave between my legs. Lizzie and Coop were so kind to bring her down from Yorkshire for me. She’s finally forgiven me for leaving her for a month; though she had a blast with Smutty she still ignored me for two days before she’d even let me pet her. Now she’s back to being my little shadow, mostly because the house has been so busy.
“Hey, Bella bear,” I murmur, gently scratching behind her ears. She purrs contentedly before headbutting me. “Oh, you want some food, don’t you?” I grab a bowl and squeeze out her favourite paté. Feeding Bella always reminds me of Zucca. That little kitten was such a sweetheart. I wonder what he’s up to now. I wish I could’ve brought him home with me.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about our trip... the cat, the streets of Florence, the breathtaking sunsets. And, of course, Omar. He texted me when he got back to the UK but we haven’t been in touch since. What’s the point? I’ve never been someone who can just be friends with a man they’ve fallen for. And I did fall for him. I had to finally admit that to myself. I guess that’s why it was so hard to come back. But I didn’t want to be the one to change the rules of our agreement by asking him to give this a chance. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway, with his new job and all.
Christopher and Suki finally manage to gather all their things and hop into a taxi. Christopher gives me a tight hug and I know I won’t see him again anytime soon. It’s a long and expensive flight from Japan to the UK, and neither of them is exactly rolling in money. I promise to visit them next summer, though. I’ve set aside some of the money Ruth left me.
The house falls into a heavy silence as the door clicks shut behind them. It’s been a whirlwind of activity since I got back and I haven’t had much time to think, except for quiet hours at night when I’m alone. But now the silence feels overwhelming.
“You know what we need, Bella?” I ask, looking down at her. “We need a girls' night.” Amelia and Ben got back from Yorkshire yesterday, perfect timing for a Christmas get-together. I grab my phone and send a message in our group chat.
Me:
How about a girls' night?
Lizzie:
Hell yes!
Amelia:
I’m in.
Fi:
Just tell me when and where—I’ll find a babysitter. Or Ben can watch Max.
Miranda:
I’m so down.
We decide to meet at my place. It’s easiest as I’m the only one without a husband or kids. I promise to make my famous burgers and the girls will bring dessert and snacks. I'd ask if they’d like to stay the night, but they all live nearby aside from Lizzie, and Coop will probably hang out with Ben anyway so she can easily get a lift home with him.
As I set my phone down the house already feels a little less empty. A night with the girls is exactly what I need.
The girls are gathered around my coffee table, the room buzzing with their laughter and chatter. It’s the perfect kind of chaos to distract me from my own thoughts.
“So tell us, how many Italian stallions did you bed?” Lizzie teases, wiggling her eyebrows.
“None,” I say, trying to keep a straight face. It’s not entirely a lie because Giovanni doesn’t count, it’s not like he gave me an orgasm. And Omar? Well, he’s not exactly Italian. But let’s see if I can get away with half-truths.
“Come on, Bri. I had a feeling you went there on a mission.” Lizzie narrows her eyes at me.
“What gave you that idea?”
“You had a glint in your eyes when you talked about the trip,” she says.
“Well there was this one guy... bush-dick.”
Fi almost spits her drink across the room. “Bush-dick?!” she sputters.
“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “His name was Giovanni but because he had a... moderate-sized package but the biggest bush of hair I’ve ever seen, I kind of gave him a nickname.”
Lizzie and Amelia are in hysterics, barely able to breathe through their laughter.
“So, what happened with bush-dick?” Lizzie manages to ask.
“Well, he liked to be tied up.”
“Oooh, saucy!” Miranda chimes in.
“He brought his own handcuffs. Wanted me to restrain him and, well, give him a blowie, and then he just... left.”
“Rude!” Miranda says, outraged.
“He didn’t even offer you a big O in return?” Fi asks, eyes wide.
“Nope. Said he was tired. Thought I’d understand,” I shrug.
“Bastard!” Lizzie laughs.
“And there was nobody else?” Amelia asks, still giggling.
“Well,” I say, taking a sip of wine, “he did leave a bad taste—literally and figuratively.”
Amelia snorts as Miranda and Lizzie clutch each other, tears streaming down their faces from laughing so hard.
“Hang on a second,” Lizzie says, her eyes narrowing. “You said no other Italian stallion... Was there someone else?”
I feel my cheeks heat up as all eyes are on me.
“Who?” Amelia presses.
“Oh my God, it was the driver, wasn’t it?” Miranda blurts out.
“Omar?” Amelia shouts, wide-eyed.
“I—no, I mean, yes. But we agreed it was just a holiday romance. It’s over, done,” I say quickly, taking a big bite of burger in a futile attempt to avoid more questions. But of course they won’t let me off the hook that easily.
“What exactly happened?” Lizzie demands, leaning in.
I give them the condensed version, leaving out the parts that still make my heart ache. They listen, wide-eyed and silent.
“That’s it,” I say when I finish.
“Oh my God that is so sweet. You guys are so cute,” Fi coos.
“No, no, no,” I protest. “It was just a holiday romance. We both agreed.”
“Bri, look at me,” Lizzie says seriously. “Are you telling me that you didn’t develop any feelings for him?”
I stutter, “I—I liked him.” Even I don’t believe the lie.
“Bri, tell us the truth,” Amelia says softly.
“It was just a holiday thing. We agreed,” I insist sounding like a broken record.
“Let me ask you a different question,” Amelia says. “What happened when you said goodbye to him?”
I’m silent as the memories of that last hug at the airport, that final look, and that kiss come flooding back. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and one slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
“Oh, Bri,” Amelia says, wrapping me in a hug. That’s it; I can’t hold back the tears anymore.
“I may have fallen for him a tiny bit,” I sob. “But that wasn’t the plan.”
“Have you told him?” Miranda asks gently.
“Of course not!” I object. “We had an agreement. He made it clear he doesn’t do relationships.”
“Oh my God another one,” Lizzie groans. “Did you learn nothing from me or Amelia?”
I look at her, confused.
“I thought Coop wouldn’t be interested in me,” Lizzie says. “I pretended not to notice that he was pining for me. And Amelia thought Ben could do better.”
“And what did we both have in common?” Amelia adds. “We didn’t talk to them. You need to tell Omar how you feel.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Lizzie asks. “He could say he doesn’t feel the same. But as it stands you don’t have him in your life and it’s already hurting you. Would it hurt that much more if he said he wasn’t interested? And what if he is interested? And he thinks you don’t want a relationship because that’s what you told him?”
I sniffle, trying to process what they’re saying.
“He’s got a job offer in Jordan. He’s leaving soon,” I try as a last protest.
“That’s news to me,” Amelia looks surprised.
“Look, you need to find out how he feels about you. What do we hate in romance books?” Miranda asks pointedly.
“Miscommunication,” the others chorus.
“You need to talk to him, Bri,” Lizzie says firmly.
“I’ll think about it,” I mumble, still unsure.
“No, don’t just think about it,” Amelia says. “Promise us you’ll at least talk to him.”
I look at them all, knowing they’re right but terrified of what might happen. “Okay,” I say finally. “But please let me handle it. I’ll do it my way.”
They exchange glances but nod. I know they’ll stick to their word… for a while at least, but if I take too long they will take matters in their own hands. I would do the same for any of them. Sometimes it sucks to have such amazing friends. You can’t get away with shit.