Chapter 2
DREW
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ I tell myself as I jog from the train station to my brother’s house.
Not only am I late – my sister-in-law, Gen, will be so pissed – I’ve broken one of my golden rules: no sleepovers.
Although, it’s not like there was much sleeping going on and round three this morning was mind-blowing.
If Kellie (or is it Callie?) wasn’t an investment banker, she could get a job riding broncos.
It was almost enough to want to see her again.
Which would break my other golden rule: no second dates.
Second dates lead to third dates and before you know it, you’re in a relationship.
No thanks.
I round the corner onto Chris’ street and break into a run. Thankfully, they’re not waiting for me out front, which has happened before, Gen with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot.
I jog up the walk and try the front door – it’s open – then let myself in.
‘Hello, I’m here!’
‘Uncle Drew!’
My niece, Maisie, runs down the stairs and throws herself into my arms. I catch her in a hug, her feet off the floor, legs dangling.
‘Oof, you’re getting a bit too big for that, Mais,’ I say, putting her down.
‘You’re never too big for hugs, Uncle Drew,’ she says earnestly. ‘And you’re very late. Mummy’s cross.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
She sniffs the air between us. ‘Why do you smell funny?’
Shit.
Chris enters – right on cue – giving me a knowing look.
‘I can make an educated guess,’ he says – which literally goes over Maisie’s head.
She looks between us, hands on her hips, a mini-Gen. ‘What?’
‘I’ll tell you when you’re older,’ I stage-whisper.
‘When you’re much older – an adult,’ adds Chris.
Maisie throws her hands up dramatically. ‘No one tells me anything! I’m not a child any more. I’m nine!’
‘Eight and a half, darling,’ says Gen, joining us in the entry.
‘Eight and ten twelfths, actually,’ Maisie counters. No one corrects her that she means five-sixths.
‘Noted,’ Gen tells her. ‘Hello, Drew. You’re late.’ She looks me up and down, clocking my rumpled clothes with a frown, then she sniffs the air. ‘And you smell like sex,’ she mouths, frowning at me.
‘Sorry, I didn’t want to be late – later, I mean,’ I say, sheepishly running a hand through my hair.
‘Well, you can’t go like that,’ she declares. ‘You’re emitting more musk than a buck in heat,’ she adds under her breath.
‘Shit, sorry. Look, I’ll go home real quick and meet you ther—’
‘No,’ she says, cutting me off. ‘By the time you go all the way to Canary Wharf and come back again, you’ll miss the entire thing.’ She presses her lips together. ‘Chris,’ she says a beat later, ‘go and get Drew one of your shirts.’
‘What, why?’ he asks, but a glance over her shoulder, eyebrows raised, sends him back upstairs, mumbling to himself. He knows better than to mess with Gen when she’s in take-charge mode.
‘And you,’ she says, her attention back on me, ‘go avail yourself of the guest bathroom. There are fresh towels under the sink. You have five minutes.’
Like my brother, I know to do as I’m told.
Besides, Gen isn’t just my sister-in-law.
She’s a partner at Emberstone and today is the agency’s Family & Friends Party.
If we’re late because of me, it could reflect poorly on her.
And I wouldn’t want that. Gen referred me for the job – she’s the main reason I was able to move to London. And I needed to move to London.
Or get out of St Paul – same difference.
‘What’s musk?’ Maisie asks as I’m closing the bathroom door. I pause, listening for the answer.
‘Erm, it’s a bit like how Daddy smells after he’s been to the gym,’ Gen tells her.
‘Oh,’ Maisie replies with obvious revulsion.
I smile to myself, then hustle. I only have four minutes left.
‘Oh my gosh,’ says Maisie, totally awestruck.
I have to agree – Emberstone has gone all-out. There’s a huge marquee with tables and chairs, a coffee bar with a barista, and an actual bar, and outside there are lawn games, a bouncy castle, and five food trucks. The instant I get a whiff of tacos, my stomach starts rumbling.
‘Pretty cool, hey, Mais?’ I reply.
‘Mm-hmm,’ she replies.
‘So, I’m going to…’ Gen gestures towards the marquee and strides off. This won’t be much of a party for her – when you’re at her level, you have to be ‘on’ at work events.
‘Uncle Drew, can we go on that?’ Maisie asks, her eyes locked on the bouncy castle.
‘Uh, I think it’s just for kids. But I can take you over there.’
‘Okay, let’s go,’ she says, dragging me by the hand. She’s strong for a little kid and I clearly don’t have a choice. We’re going.
‘Hey, can you get me a beer?’ I ask Chris before I’m dragged away.
‘It’s ten in the morning,’ he retorts.
‘And?’
‘I’ll get you a coffee.’
‘Always looking out for me, big brother.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘Uncle Drew!’ implores Maisie, tugging on my hand again.
‘Sorry, kiddo,’ I say and for the second time this morning, I break into a run. ‘Come on, keep up,’ I tease as she lags behind. She giggles, catching up, and we arrive at the bouncy castle a little out of breath. I should up my cardio.
‘Hello, Parker.’
At the sound of my name, I turn around. Sophie. Super-hot single mom, way smarter than me, and not my biggest fan.
‘Reid,’ I reply.
I’m not sure when we started with the last-names thing, but it must have been right after I joined Emberstone. I don’t think she’s ever called me Drew, and I’ve just gone along with it.
‘Hi, I’m Maisie.’
Being shown up by my niece, who has far better manners than I do. Sophie breaks into one of her heart-stopping smiles, directing it at Maisie. For the record, I’ve never been a recipient of a Sophie Reid smile. Her patented scowl on the other hand… plenty of times.
‘Oh, hello, Maisie,’ she says, her eyes drifting up to meet mine, then back to Maisie. ‘I’m Sophie and somewhere’ – she looks around – ‘is my daughter. Ah, there she is. Harlow, Connie,’ she calls out, beckoning with her arm.
A little way off is an older couple and a girl about Maisie’s age, who’s eating ice cream.
When they join us, Sophie introduces Maisie to Harlow, then says, ‘Maisie’s dad and I work together.’
‘What? No, I’m no—’
‘He’s my Uncle Drew, not my daddy,’ says Maisie, talking over me.
‘She’s Genevieve’s daughter,’ I tell Sophie.
‘Oh, of course. Sorry.’
‘No harm, no foul,’ I reply with a smirk.
Seeing Sophie Reid flustered is a rarity. And sexy.
‘Hello,’ says the older woman, eyeing me up and down appraisingly. ‘I’m Sophie’s mother-in-law, Connie, and this is Keith.’
Now I’m knocked off-kilter. I thought Sophie was divorced – why’s she hanging out with her mother-in-law?
‘Hi, nice to meet you,’ I say, shaking Connie’s outstretched hand. ‘Drew Parker.’
‘Oh, you’re American,’ she says. Her eyes flick towards Sophie then land back on me.
‘Uh, yep. Born and bred in Minnesota,’ I reply with a fake smile. I have no frigging idea what to make of this.
‘Hello, pleased to meet you.’ Keith steps forward, hand outstretched, and we shake. Now, is he the father-in-law or…?
‘Harlow,’ says Connie, ‘how about you and Maisie go into the bouncy castle together, let the adults talk for a minute?’
Harlow considers this for a second, then says, ‘Here, Mum.’ She hands her dripping ice cream cone to Sophie, who purses her lips. ‘Come on, Maisie. I’ll show you how to do spins!’
Maisie grins at me, her shoulders shrugging in excitement, then she and Harlow run off to stand in line.
Sophie digs a Kleenex out of her jeans pocket and starts wiping her hands.
‘Right, so Keith and I are going to get a coffee,’ says Connie.
Keith glances at her, startled, but soon catches on. I met Connie two minutes ago and even I can tell she’s plotting to get me and Sophie alone.
Only when we are, there’s nothing to say.
‘You don’t need to hang around if you don’t want to, Reid. I can keep an eye out for Harlow. Or I could go – that taco truck’s calling,’ I say, hooking my thumb towards it.
‘Either way, Parker,’ she says without looking up. ‘Gah!’ She frowns at the ice cream, which is melting faster than she can clean it up.
‘Yeah, that Kleenex isn’t cutting it. Here, let me.’ I reach over and take the cone, holding it between two fingers, then scout for a garbage can. There’s one close by and I return to Sophie ten seconds later, licking my thumb and forefinger.
She does a double take, then frowns at me for the fiftieth time in five minutes.
‘You’re welcome, by the way.’
‘Thank you,’ she replies begrudgingly.
I decide to stick around and wait for Maisie – need to retain my status as her favourite uncle over Gen’s brother, Rob. Besides, it’s way too much fun seeing the typically cool-and-collected Sophie this rattled.
‘And sorry about before – mistaking Maisie for your daughter,’ she says.
‘All good. Like I said, no harm, no foul.’
‘Right.’
‘So…’
‘Look, if you really are fine with keeping an eye out for Harlow…’
‘Sure, it’s no problem. You dying for a taco too?’
‘What? No, I… If you must know, I need the loo.’
‘Ah. Cool.’ Cool?
She gives me a look that I decipher as confusion mixed with judgement, then heads in the direction of the porta potties.
If my intention was to completely screw up that interaction, then I succeeded.
I’ve had a bit of a crush on Sophie Reid since my first day at Emberstone but in three years, I’ve never figured out how to talk to her.
Every conversation feels like she’d rather be having her wisdom teeth out.
And I have no idea what mystery sin I’ve committed in her eyes, but it must be up there with the biggies.
But even if she didn’t despise me, it’s not like I’d date her.
First off, we’re colleagues and you don’t shit where you eat.
And second, I could fall hard for someone like Sophie.
She’s smart, talented, and works her ass off.
She also has an uncanny ability to predict industry trends, which makes her a formidable competitor whenever we’re pitching to the same client.
And with people she likes – as in, anyone but me – she’s a total sweetheart.
I’ve witnessed it firsthand. Many times.
But I don’t want to fall for Sophie. I don’t want to fall for anyone ever again.
So, I let her continue to hate me. Well, okay, sometimes I lean into it – the bad-boy asshole persona. It can be kinda fun and it meets my primary objective when it comes to Sophie: keep her at arm’s length.
‘Uncle Drew, watch!’
I look over at the bouncy castle just in time to see Maisie leap into the air, spin around, and land on her hands and knees.
‘Great job, Mais!’
‘I messed up the landing,’ she replies with a laugh. ‘Let me try again.’ She gets up, steadying herself and my heart pings. God, I love this kid. No tears, no self-castigation because she didn’t land correctly. She laughs it off, then gets up and tries again.
There are a lot of adults who could learn from Maisie’s approach to life. Like her Uncle Drew.
‘You’ve got this, Maisie!’
Tongue sticking out, Maisie bounces three times, then spins around and sticks the landing.
‘Oh my gosh! Did you see me?’
‘I saw it. Amazing stuff, kiddo!’
Harlow bounces over to Maisie and gives her a congratulatory hug. Another example to adults – how quickly kids make friends. I’ve lived in London for three years and my closest friends are my brother and sister-in-law.
Scratch that – they’re my only friends. Maybe it’s time to branch out, meet some new people, socialise a bit. I wonder what Keith’s into.
‘Thanks for watching Harlow,’ says Sophie, appearing at my side. She’s wiping her damp hands down the front of her jeans and I force myself to look away. They may be mom jeans, but she looks incredible in them.
‘Yeah, all good. She and Maisie seem to have hit it off.’
‘Oh?’
She looks over at the bouncy castle where the girls are now holding hands and bouncing up and down, giggling.
‘Oh, that’s so sweet. I was hoping she’d make a friend today. Harlow can be a little… reserved sometimes, especially with people she doesn’t know.’
You mean like her mom? I think, but Sophie seems to miss the comparison.
‘You don’t say.’
We watch them in silence, which starts getting awkward, and I rack my brain for something else to talk about.
‘So, you working on a pitch for Hargreaves?’ I ask.
Total cliché, resorting to shop talk, but what else is there?
‘Uh, yep.’
Okay, she’s not giving me much, but maybe she’s playing her cards close to her chest. Landing the Hargreaves account is a huge deal – national Christmas campaign, TV slots, billboards, bus wraps, and posters – and it comes with a decent bonus.
But it’s the prestige that’s the real drawcard – it’s the kind of campaign that can make a career.
My guess is that Sophie wants it as much as I do, especially considering I’ve beaten her out two years running.
‘Pretty tricky, huh?’ I ask. She turns my way wearing a quizzical expression. ‘You know, designing a Christmas campaign over the summer – especially this past summer. It has been so hot. Hard to conjure up images of snow and hot chocolate and chestnuts roasting on an open fire…’
I flash her a grin and the corners of her mouth lift a fraction – not quite a smile, but I’ll take it.
‘I’m an Aussie, remember?’ she replies. ‘I grew up singing “Jingle Bells” and “Winter Wonderland” when it was forty degrees outside. I’ve got years of experience imagining a wintry Christmas while sweating on the back patio at Mum and Dad’s, eating cold cuts and salad.’
This is the most Sophie has ever said to me – and she’s let the armour slip.
‘Mum!’
We look over as the girls clamber out of the bouncy castle and head towards us, both pink in the face.
‘How was that?’ asks Sophie.
‘So much fun,’ replies Maisie.
‘Mad fun,’ says Harlow. ‘Can we go and play giant Jenga now?’
Sophie and I look to where she’s pointing.
‘Off you go, but make sure you can see me at all times, all right?’
‘Okay. Come on, Maisie.’
‘So, what would you like to do next?’ I ask Sophie. Maybe we can get tacos together.
‘What?’ she blurts, her expression souring. ‘Oh, um… I’d better go see what Connie and Keith are up to.’ She gives me a lipless smile and practically sprints away.
Right, so that wasn’t us vibing then.