Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
AISLING
“Don’t be mad at me.” Is the first thing Frankie greets me with when I walk into the salon on Wednesday.
“I could never be mad at you,” I tell her as I set my stuff down in the back room, thinking she did something that I’m not actually going to be upset about. It’s a game we play whenever we know something is going to annoy us.
Frankie follows me in the back, her face uneasy.
“Wait, are you being serious?” She’s making me nervous.
“Yeah.” Frankie winces. “Kind of.”
“What happened?” I ask, giving her my undivided attention as anxiety starts to creep in.
Frankie busies herself with restocking, no longer meeting my eye.
Okay, before I was nervous, but now she’s freaking me out.
“Frankie.”
“Ugh, alright.” Frankie dramatically sighs. “Remember, like two months ago when I was dead set on you getting over baby daddy and putting yourself back out there, but you told me to mind my own business.”
“Yeah…”
“Well…” Frankie trails off, looking everywhere but me.
“Frankie, spit it out.”
“I may have signed you up for an online dating site and made a date for you for this Saturday and forgot about it until he messaged this morning with a time and to dress nice because you’re going to dinner,” she rushes out before a hesitant smile slowly creeps onto her face.
My mouth drops open.
What the fuck.
“So I have a date on Saturday?” I ask, my brain trying to play catch-up.
“Yeah…”
“Frankie, what the fuck?” I exclaim. “What if he plans to kill me?”
Has she not seen all the shit in the news recently about online dates going wrong?
“He won’t. This site verifies everyone. He’s in finance,” she says, like that makes it any better. “But now Hash is back in your life, and I didn’t know what to tell the guy this morning, and he seemed so excited…”
Oh God, Hash.
He’s going to fucking lose it if he finds out about this.
“Did you confirm the date?”
Please say no.
“Yes…?” she says, her voice rising as she sounds unsure.
“Ugh, Frankie.” I sigh as I look up to the ceiling. “Why?” I whine.
As if I don’t already have enough going on.
“I’m sorry!” She cries. “I was just trying to get you out of your funk. I know you’re a mom, but you’re still a hot-ass bitch too. And… I think you should still go.”
I look back at her, confused. “Really? Because ever since Hash has shown back up in my life, you’ve been very ‘give him a chance.’” I mock using air quotes to prove my point.
“I know, but the more I thought about it, I realized you haven’t dated anyone since him. You can’t date him and then not date him and then go back to dating him. How will you know if he’s really who you want?”
She has a point, but…
“I wouldn’t call what Hash and I were before dating. Yeah, we met up for drinks randomly after work, but he never took me out.”
“You’re proving my point.”
Goddamn it, I am.
“I’m supposed to spend Saturday with Hash at the clubhouse. I don’t think I’m getting out of it.”
“Just tell him you’re busy.” Frankie shrugs.
“Um, yeah. That’s not going to work with a man like Hash, babe. He will hunt me down and drag my ass there.” I’m hating myself right now because why does the idea of him doing that turn me on?
“I’ll think of something because you’re going. You need this.”
“Frankie.” I sigh. “I get what you were trying to do, and I love you for it, but all of this stuff with Hash is already a lot. I don’t need more added to it. What if he finds out?”
“Please.” Frankie laughs. “You think a man like Hash eats at Bella Vita?”
“He’s taking me to Bella Vita?” I ask, more interested than I was before.
Bella Vita is absolutely amazing. It’s the best Italian restaurant in the city. I’ve only been a couple of times because the menu is a little out of my budget. They have some of the best wine I’ve ever had.
“Yes! I knew you would be hooked.” Frankie smirks. “I told you he’s in finance. I got the vibe from talking to him that he’s higher up in the company. He sounded like a man who likes to wine and dine.”
I guess one date night wouldn’t hurt.
And Frankie’s right, I do need to get back out there.
I’ve let Hash consume my head for too long now.
I’m still leery of whether he’s actually going to stick around for Cormac, and if he does, great, but I am also done wasting my time waiting around for him to one day, hopefully, give me what I want.
“So when he told you to tell me to dress nice, he meant like fancy dress?” I ask as I try to mentally go through my closest.
All the dresses I own are pre-baby. And it’s not that I look bad per se, I just haven’t lost all the baby weight, and some areas aren’t firm like they used to be. I need to layer on the Spanx and have the right cut to control the apron belly.
“Well, technically he told you. He thinks he’s been talking to you. But yeah. We can go through your closet tonight.”
“What did you two talk about?”
The last thing I want is to show up and make myself look like an idiot because he and Frankie already talked about something.
“Honestly, not much of anything. He said he prefers face-to-face conversations.” Frankie shrugs. “I don’t know. The dude is fifteen years older than you. Maybe that’s how they do things.”
“I don’t think that’s how they do things because Hash is twelve and we’ve done none of this.” I honestly can’t picture him in any sort of restaurant that’s not a dive bar. “This is going to be so fucking weird.”
“So what if it is?” Frankie shrugs. “You’re never going to know if you don’t put yourself out there, bitch. Forget about Hash for one night. I’ll watch my sweet baby nephew, and all will be well in the world of Aisling.”
Yeah, well, until Hash finds out I’m rescheduling. Something tells me it will not go over well.
“I’m going to pump,” I tell Frankie as she’s sweeping up hair. “If my next client comes in, tell her I’ll be out soon.”
“Roger that,” Frankie salutes me before calling after me. “Think about what you’re going to tell Hash!”
Ugh.
I feel like there’s no way out of it. Hash doesn’t even ask me if the stuff he’s planned is okay. He tells me.
Besides, having a new plan when I already had plans gives me anxiety. As mostly an introvert, I don’t like being busy every weekend. It drains me mentally. Two weekends a month is about my max.
I know Frankie didn’t mean any harm by doing this, but all it’s doing is causing more stress.
Just as I’m grabbing my stuff to pump, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, Hash’s name flashes across the screen.
Hash: Hey, baby doll. Can we move it to Sunday?
What the fuck?
I look around the back room. Did he hear us talking?
“Frankie!” I yell, hoping she’ll hear me.
“What?” Frankie yells back. Her voice is growing nearer as she walks toward the back room.
“Guess who just texted me?”
“I’m going to guess Hash since the finance guy doesn’t have your number yet, which I need to do before Saturday, by the way. Don’t let me forget.” She points at me.
“Fine, but if I have to end up blocking him because he’s a complete creep, you owe me tacos.”
“Done. Now spill.”
“Hash texted and asked if we could move it to Sunday? Isn’t that fucking weird? You don’t think he bugged the place, do you?” I ask as I look around again, trying to see if I can spot any sort of little camera or microphone.
“First of all, if a man like Hash bugged the place and heard you had a date, his ass would be all up in here losing it, not moving the plans he made with you around so you can go date another guy.”
I lean my head to the side as I think about it.
That’s true. Hash would lose his shit, which is why he can’t find out about this.
“Second.” Frankie pulls a second finger back. “This is the universe telling you to go on this date! The stars are aligning!”
“Yeah, but it seems like it’s almost happening a little too easily.” And nothing in my life ever works out like this.
“Or have you thought about the fact that it’s finally your time to be happy?”
“No.” I laugh. “That would be too easy.”
I moved the bouncer into my room so Cormac can play as I search through my clothes.
I can’t figure out if everything I’ve ever owned has always looked like shit or if my style has changed over the last couple of years.
“What about this little black number? You can’t go wrong with a little black dress,” Frankie says as she holds up the dress I wore for my 30th birthday.
“You can if it doesn’t fit anymore. If I even think about moving my shoulders or arms, a nipple will pop out. And that’s not sexy. At a nightclub maybe, but definitely not Bella Vita.”
I’m screwed.
Frankie cringes. “Yeah, that shit isn’t cute in your thirties.”
“I don’t think I have anything,” I declare with my hands on my hips as I stare at all the dresses scattered across my bed.
“It doesn’t have to be a dress. What about these leather leggings with your off the shoulder knit sweater?”
“Do you think that’s dressy enough?” I ask, sounding doubtful.
Now I’m remembering why I never dated. It’s so much work, and for what? Probably an awkward time that has a ten percent chance of actually being something? Hard pass.
“If we accessorize it right. The right jewelry and shoes can take an outfit from day to night like that!” Frankie snaps her fingers.
“I think you’re more excited about this than I am,” I say, unconvinced.
“Try it on,” Frankie demands as she ignores me and shoves the outfit she listed off in my face.
I take it and move into the bathroom.
I have a feeling this is the only way I’ll get her to shut up about it.
“I just gave him your number!” Frankie calls from the bedroom.
Ugh.
This is so not my thing.
“Okay!” I call back as I jump up and down as I try to get into these leather leggings. They always look good on, but damn are they a bitch to get into and almost as embarrassing to take off, especially in front of a guy. “You never told me his name!”
“It’s Jason!”
Makes sense he works in finance with a frat boy name like that. He probably had everything handed to him growing up.
“I think his dad owns the firm!”
And there you go.
After I slip on the strapless bra and top, I open the bathroom door and walk back to my room where Frankie lies on my bed, playing with Cormac, who is giggling up a storm.
It’s nearly impossible not to be happy when you look at him. He’s like an instant mood booster.
“I don’t know if this is going to work. I’ll give it a shot, but I can already tell we’re from completely different sides of the tracks.”
“Uh, that’s why they say opposites attract.
Duh.” Frankie looks at me like I’m crazy.
“And you look hot as fuck in that outfit. Those leather leggings do amazing things to your ass. Wait until you put a pair of heels on. If he doesn’t want to take you home and try to peel them off of you, I will personally report his profile. ”
“Report it for what?” I ask as I look myself over in my full-body mirror.
Frankie’s right. I do look damn good in these pants.
“Not taking my girl to pound town.” Frankie laughs.
“Shut up.” I laugh as I throw my shoe at her, purposefully missing and turning back to the mirror.
I mess with the neckline of the sweater until I have it where I want it.
Maybe Frankie is right. I need to stop being so negative about everything. Jason might actually be a really great guy, and here I am being a fucking bitch.
The next time I tell myself I need to be more positive about things, I’m going to stab myself in the eye with a fork. And then I’m going to stab Frankie for convincing me this was a good idea.
This date is awful.
It’s been awful since he picked me up. I chickened out on wearing the outfit Frankie and I picked out and decided to go with a flowy black dress that hit mid thigh.
It made me feel like every roll wasn’t out on display.
The once-over he gave me when I opened the door before he even said hi told me everything I needed to know and had me immediately regretting my decision.
I wasn’t good enough.
The food is amazing of course, but Jason? Nope.
I didn’t think it was possible for someone to talk about themselves so much. Outside of asking what I do for work, he hasn’t asked one thing about me.
And I’m sorry, but a man who is pushing fifty shouldn’t be talking and bragging about the shit he did in college like it happened yesterday. It’s very obvious he peaked in his early twenties and never grew up.
I guess that explains why he’s never been married and doesn’t have any kids.
Sometimes it’s a lifestyle choice, and I respect that, but this isn’t that. If it weren’t for the spaghetti bolognese that tastes like an orgasm in my mouth, I would have walked out when he asked if I felt like popping another kid out.
Who asks that on the first date? Let alone like that.
It’s obvious to everyone around us but him I’m only here for the good food and wine.
“But anyway, enough about me.” Jason laughs casually as if I’m the one who asked him to talk for the last hour about himself. “Tell me more about yourself. Is there a crazy ex I need to be worried about?”
I choke on my wine.
Setting the glass down, I quickly grab the cloth napkin in my lap and bring it to my lips trying to quietly cough into it.
“Are you okay?” Jason asks, looking concerned. “Maybe you need to take it easy on the wine.”
Quite the opposite, buddy. I will happily dump everything I pump tonight if it means I can have another glass to get through this date so I don’t punch you in the face.
“I’m fine, thanks.” I give him a tight smile as I take a sip of water.
“Not to pry, but I would kind of like to know what I’m getting involved with here. Is your kid’s dad going to be a problem?”
My brows raise in shock at his question as I lean back in my seat.
He needs to know what he’s getting involved with?
Is this guy for real?
“Not to be blunt, but I don’t think we’re at that level where my kid needs to be involved.” Fucking dick head. “This is still the first date after all.” And there won’t be a second.
“Fair enough,” Jason says as a sly smirk slowly spreads across his face. “You said you’re an esthetician, right?”
“Right.”
“Do you actually make real money doing that?”
That’s it. Fuck this guy.
“I think it’s safe to say we—” I say but stop because the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, alert with the feeling that someone is watching me.
I do a quick scan over my shoulder, thinking it’s probably someone who has been listening to this guy being an asshole all night long and knows I’m about to tell him off.
My blood runs cold as I lock onto the green eyes I see every night in my dreams.
Oh fuck.