CHAPTER 2 Penny Calloway
Getting Horizontal
Move in with me.
What an offer.
I’m considering it, honestly. He lives right here? This is the perfect location to get the kids to school in the morning and get to the office without hitting too much traffic.
I wouldn’t be considering it at all if I weren't drinking.
My third—possibly fourth…I seem to have lost count—glass of wine says I shouldn’t drive home, but it’s been fun catching up with Liam.
I glance at the clock on my phone when he excuses himself to the restroom, and I didn’t realize how late it was.
I decide to text my mom.
Me: I ran into Everleigh’s younger brother, and we’re catching up. I also might have had an extra glass of wine, but we’re wrapping things up.
Mom: Don’t drive home. You needed a night like this. Have fun. The kids can stay with me. They’re practically falling asleep watching SpongeBob anyway. I’ll get them to school in the morning.
She’s right. I needed a night like this.
A night out where I can just talk openly, have a few drinks, eat some sliders, and forget about the drama.
Everleigh has been a good friend, my best friend since we met, starting at Langford Marketing together fresh out of college, but she’s also planning her wedding.
She doesn’t want to hear about Brent’s latest continuance, or that Benji had an accident at school because he’s worried about Daddy, or that Sammy cried at his baseball game because Daddy didn’t show up.
But it feels like these are things I can tell Liam, and he won’t judge me.
I’m not sure why I feel that way tonight.
It’s probably the wine. But he offered to let me stay with him.
He’s sweet, and he wants to help. Proximity aside, there’s the added benefit that my kids would get to live with a pro football player, which sort of feels like a punch to the face of Brent Calloway.
I never ask anybody for anything. I never have—probably something Brent ingrained in me from early on when I didn’t even realize he was doing it.
I always just get it all done…but tonight, the wine is making me not want to get it all done.
I should have a husband I can rely on, someone who can pick up the slack, but I never have any slack because I always just do it all. And frankly, I’m exhausted.
And so I’ll take my mom up on this favor tonight.
And maybe, just maybe, another glass of wine might convince me to take Liam up on his offer, too.
I will do literally anything to get out of that house with my soon-to-be ex-husband…even if it means shacking up with my best friend’s little brother.
Correction: my best friend’s cute little brother. My best friend’s pro football player little brother, who really isn’t so little, and has he always been so attractive, and I just didn’t notice because I wasn’t looking?
Jesus, Penny. Pull yourself together. He’s like seven years younger than you and definitely not interested in a divorcée with two little boys.
Me: Are you sure?
Mom: Absolutely. And I know your divorce isn’t final yet, but there’s nothing wrong with getting horizontal with a younger man. ;)
My face turns bright red. Aside from Everleigh, my mom is one of my closest friends. We talk daily—hourly, sometimes—and the older she gets, the bolder she gets. She cracks me up, especially when she says things you’d never expect to hear out of your own mother’s mouth.
Me: MOTHER!
Mom: [tears of laughter emoji]
I decide to call her real quick.
“Hey, Lucky Penny,” she answers. “Want to say goodnight to the boys?”
“How’d you know that’s why I called?” I demand.
“Because I’m your mother and I know everything. Boys! Mommy is on the phone!”
“Mama!” my older one squeals. “Grammy let me have Mountain Dew!”
“And now she gets to live with those consequences. I just called to say night-night. Grammy said you boys could sleep over, and she’ll take you to school tomorrow. I’ll be there right after to pick you up, okay?”
“But who will sing to me?” Benji asks.
“Want your song right now?” I ask.
“Yes yes yes yes yes,” Benji says, and I break out into my best rendition of off-key “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
Just as I’m finishing, Liam returns to the table, and I should probably be embarrassed that he caught me, but hey...it’s mom life.
I tell my kids I love them and have to go, and I hang up.
“Hot date?”
I glance up at him, and suddenly, it’s like the axis shifts a little.
His dark hair is a little too long, a little shaggy, and it’s sort of falling into his eyes a little.
He pushes it back as he slides in beside me, his knee bumping mine, and when his hair isn’t in his eyes, they seem to glow a dark brown at me.
I’m imagining things. I’m assigning a different emotion to him being nice. That’s all this is. Transference.
“Hm?” I ask.
He nods at my phone. “I asked if that was a hot date.”
“Oh! Yeah.” I’m doing my best here to pull it together.
It’s not working. “I mean, no. It was my mom. I was texting my mom. She’s…
something else. And then I called to talk to my kids, and my little one wanted a song.
” I decide not to heed her advice of getting horizontal. “I should probably get going.”
His face falls a little. “You sure? Do you need to get your kids?”
I shake my head. “No. Actually, my mom said they could stay over and she’d get them to school in the morning.”
His eyes light at my words. I must be imagining things.
“Then let’s have another round.”
“You want to have another round with me, the thirty-something mom going through a divorce?” I ask, doubt in my tone.
He tilts his head. “Is that how you see yourself?”
I raise my brows. “It’s literally the definition of who I am.”
I’m about to be a single mom, and I feel like I gave all my good years to the wrong man.
I empty my wine, and Liam signals to Izzy to bring us more. He must be on his fifth or sixth by now…I’ve lost count.
He shakes his head as he stares at me, those eyes so intense they’re nearly staring through me.
“You’re as tough as they come, Pen. You’re more than just the mother of your kids.
You’re more than just the ex of that clown you married.
You’re smart. You’re strong. You’re independent and courageous. You’re sexy as hell.”
My cheeks heat as something I haven’t felt in years darts down my spine. No one has described me as sexy in…well, maybe ever, but it’s been at least eight years, back before Sammy and Benji destroyed my body.
“Are you flirting with me?” I tease, and I realize it’s me using humor as a way to minimize what he just said, but I feel suddenly awkward, like he’s staring at me stripped bare in a way few others have ever taken the time to look at me.
This is intense for a few drinks with a friend’s younger brother.
“What would you say if I said I was?” he challenges.
“I’d say you’re drunk.”
He laughs and glances away. “Yeah, maybe. But even if I wasn’t, I’d still flirt with you.”
“Because you’re flirty by nature?”
“Because you’re—”
“Can I get you two anything else?” Izzy interrupts him mid-sentence, setting down a fresh glass of wine for me and another beer for him.
His eyes flick to mine. “Just the check.”
“Put mine on my own,” I say, tearing my gaze from Liam’s.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Put it on one.”
Izzy seems annoyed by our argument, and I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath, but she scampers off.
Liam holds up his beer. “To new beginnings.”
I clink my glass to his and repeat the phrase, not sure what new beginnings he’s got in mind but going along with the sentiment anyway.
“So your mom’s got your kids at her place for the night?” he asks after we each take a sip.
I nod.
“What does that mean for you?”
I lift a shoulder. “I guess it means I don’t particularly want to go home to be alone with my soon-to-be-ex-husband.”
“Then stay with me.”
“Is that your solution to everything?” I ask playfully.
He chuckles. “Let me help.”
I stare at him as I contemplate what to do. He’s just being a friend, and I don’t want to go home. If it’s just Brent and me there, chances are good we’ll just end up screaming at each other, and I’m at the point where I just want this to be over. I just want to be able to move on with my life.
You know what I’d really like to do? I’d like to just…up and move somewhere. Get out of Chicago. Take the kids somewhere and start over.
If I had the money, I would.
But I don’t, and besides, Brent would never let that happen, anyway.
I’m done thinking this through, and it looks like the wine is making the final decision anyway. I finally nod, and my voice is small when I say, “Okay.”
Izzy drops the bill, which he promptly picks up and pays, and we finish our drinks.
“Ready?” he asks, and something seems to shift in the air.
“Ready,” I confirm, and he slides out of the booth. I follow, and he holds out a hand to help me out. When my fingertips connect with his palm, I feel a crackle of electricity pass between us.
It’s definitely the wine creating an extremely overactive imagination.
His eyes land on mine for an extra second, and he pauses right there before he seems to remember that I’m his older sister’s best friend, not some woman he’s picking up at a bar to bring back home for the night.
Though to be honest…maybe my mom’s right.
No. I can’t get horizontal with Liam Bradley.
But it’s been forever since I’ve gotten horizontal at all with anybody.
Brent was busy getting it elsewhere while I was being the faithful wife who just assumed sex waned with time. At this point, it’s been well over a year since I’ve had sex.
I don’t know why sex is suddenly at the forefront of my mind. I’d blame the wine again, but that excuse is getting old even in my tipsy brain.
Something tells me it has less to do with the wine and more to do with the man currently holding my hand to help me out of the booth.
He doesn’t let go as he leads me through the bar, and I think he must be doing it for show. This is his local haunt. He probably comes here all the time, and this is his signal to Izzy and everyone else in here that he’s not going home alone.
I let him hold onto my hand mainly because it feels nice but also because I’m slightly unsteady on my feet right now.
Once we’re outside, he lets go of my hand. The air feels chilly in the upper fifties, with the famed Chicago wind working hard to blow my skirt up. Thankfully it’s a pencil skirt paired with a red sweater and short black boots with heels, and it’s behaving itself for now.
We walk side by side, a few inches separating us, and I’m watching the sidewalk in front of me so I don’t trip and make a fool out of myself.
“You said you live close?” I ask.
He nods up ahead of us. “Just around the corner.”
I glance up, taking my eyes off the sidewalk, and naturally I clip the edge of my shoe in a crack.
I tumble straight to my left, right into Liam’s shoulder. I reach up to steady myself, and my hand lands on his chest.
Wow, that’s firm.
He loops an arm around my waist to make sure I’m not about to fall over, and I catch a whiff of his cologne.
It’s warm and woodsy, masculine and clean and sexy.
“You okay?” His big, brown eyes look upon me with such concern, such genuine, sweet concern, that I’m tempted to lean in and press my lips to his.
Whoa.
Penelope Lane Wade Calloway, what the hell are you thinking? This is your best friend’s little brother! He’s way too young for you!
I push that dumb voice of reason straight out of my head.
“I’m okay,” I murmur softly, and my eyes flick to his lips. His lush, pillowy lips. What would they feel like beneath mine? What would they feel like dragging on my neck, across my throat, along my thigh?
He clears his throat, and I seem to get my wits back about me.
I remove my hand from that hard, chiseled chest. “Sorry,” I mutter.
A soft smile lifts his lips. “No reason to be.”
I turn away from him and start to walk forward again, but he doesn’t move. I stop and turn back. “What are you doing?”
His gaze flicks away from me toward the street where cars are racing by. We’re alone out on the sidewalk for the moment, cars parallel parked on the street beside us, another shop to the other side of us. The wind whips around us, and he finally returns his gaze to mine. “Warring with myself.”
“Warring with yourself?” I repeat. “What does that mean?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but then it snaps shut, and his jaw works back and forth a few times. Eventually, he lets out a breath. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I close the few steps I walked away from him until I’m back in his orbit, back to that warm, woodsy scent. “What?”
He stares at me, his eyes full of indecision even in the darkness out here. He looks nearly dangerous when a car zips by, illuminating his eyes with the bright headlights, or when another car slams on the brakes and a red light flashes a stripe across his eyes.
I take one more step closer to him so I’m close enough that he could reach out for me. I want him to reach out for me, and I can’t explain why. “What?” I whisper.
“You’re Penny,” he says simply.
I nod. “That’s right. I’m Penny.”
He grunts out a chuckle. “No, I mean, you’re Penny. You’re my sister’s friend. You’re going through a lot of shit. I’m going through a lot of shit, too, and hell if I know where I’m going to land. But, fuck, Pen. Tonight’s been fun, and I guess I just…”
He glances all around, everywhere but at me.
“You just what?” I prompt.
Finally, his eyes land on mine. “I haven’t had fun with a woman in a long time. That’s all.”
“So what’s the war?” I ask, confused since I thought he was going to go in a totally different direction with that.
He looks awkwardly away from me again, and he runs his hand through his hair. It moves back with his hand but falls messily back into place. “Never mind. Let’s just get home.”