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CHAPTER ONE - EMILY CARR
We push our way through the already full crowd, making our way to the back of the bar. Friday night drinks on Leslie Street is always a bad idea, but every year on this date, this is where we come.
“I’ll get the champagne!” Sarah hollers as she detours across the room to the busy bartender as Allie and I grab the last table before anyone else can.
“I hate this place,” I say to her as I slump into the chair, looking around at all the arrogant suits in the room. They’ve no doubt just come off a hectic week of working day and night to try to make their next million.
My skin prickles with a mixture of anxiety and fear, but I push through it, knowing my beautiful daughter, Rosie, is tucked in at home, nice and safe. I should be with her; the mom guilt of leaving her never goes away, but I know she thrives in her independence when we are apart, regardless if I like it or not.
“Come on, it isn’t all bad. There’s some eye candy in this place, don’t you think?” I roll my eyes. That’s what I thought when I first met Jeremy. What a terrible mistake that was. Allie is younger than me by about four years, and even though at twenty-nine, I am not old, I feel like I have lived three lifetimes already. We’ve only just arrived, and I already can’t wait to get home and sit on the sofa with a good book.
I see the door of the bar open again and another five men walk in, all looking distinguished, dapper, and totally full of themselves. I huff out my frustration. We come here every year just for this purpose. It’s a reminder of everything I have been through and never want to go through again.
“They only had the expensive stuff, so I thought we would treat ourselves tonight!” Sarah says as she puts an ice bucket with a bottle of French champagne on the table, followed by three champagne glasses. “It is raining men here tonight.” Taking a seat, she surveys the room.
“It is a meat market and hasn’t changed a bit in the twelve months since we were here last,” I sass as I spot a few men hanging by the door, but just one look at their suits is enough to make my stomach curve into itself.
“Give me that bottle.” Grabbing it from the table, I rip open the foil. I no longer drink very much, but like a professional, I grip the bottle at the bottom, hold the cork still, and twist the bottle in my hand exactly six times. The cork pops quietly as I lift it gently with my hand, the small fizz only reaching my ears, and I pour three glasses while still holding the base. I am nothing if not well trained in the art of how to open and pour champagne.
“Happy anniversary!” Sarah and Allie sing in unison, holding up their glasses.
“Thank you, girls. I wouldn’t have survived without you,” I say, smiling, thankful they have both been in my corner these past few years.
We sip our drinks, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I always feel on edge in the city. What if I see him? What if he spots me? I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. The need to be both smart and safe while maintaining a normal life is such a balancing act. But this reminder of my former life is necessary, no matter how much my anxiety skyrockets from it. It gives me the courage to continue. As I sip on my champagne, I think of all that has happened and feel the small bubbles dance in my mouth. The sensation fills me with glee. I’ve come so far. I made it out unscathed.
Well, almost.
“So tell me about your week,” I quiz Sarah, wanting to hear all about her latest interaction with our new school gardener. There is a no fraternizing policy at William Heights Elementary School, so staff members are off-limits to each other. So far, Sarah has been adhering to that policy, but their flirtation is off the charts. It really is only a matter of time.
“He picked me a bunch of roses from the gardens and left them in my classroom this morning,” Sarah says wistfully, and I notice a blush creeping up her neck.
“Oh, how sweet!” Allie exclaims. She is the romantic one of us. Always dreaming that a charming prince will come in and sweep her off her feet. If only she knew that wasn’t how the real world works.
I wish I was still as naive.
“So what are you going to do?” I press, wondering what their next move will be. The gardener is extremely good-looking in a rugged sort of way and appears to be a total gentleman, but I’m not sure she will give it a chance to blossom.
“I mean, he is nice…” She ponders her words for a moment, her small smile giving her real intentions away.
“Nice! He is delicious, that's what he is!” Allie exclaims while fanning herself with her hand, causing us all to laugh.
“Speaking of delicious…” Sarah’s attention wanders to a gathering of men by the bar. One, in particular, stands out, purely because he is so tall, broad, and looks like a wall of muscle. His white shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, his tanned skin peeking out. I divert my eyes before I find him any more attractive, not wanting to ever entertain a man in a bar such as this. I gave up men in suits a long time ago and have remained single since. Thank God for my battery friends.
My eyes roam the rest of the room, relieved that I haven’t seen anyone I know. Not that I expected to; my past life is now long behind me and there wouldn’t be anyone here who would have the first idea of who I was. Most of the men in this bar are too self-absorbed to care about anything else other than their whiskey and the nearest set of tits.
“I’ve gotta go to the little girls’ room. You two can survey the man meat without me.” It takes an hour to drive into the city from where we all live in the suburbs, and given I don’t drink much anymore, my bladder doesn’t always agree with the alcohol. While Sarah pours another round–our last for the night, because all three of us are keen to get back home and away from the city before it gets too dark and rowdy–I step away.
As I maneuver past a group of more corporate men and women filling the space, I get a push from behind and fly forward, slamming into a hard wall of chest.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I try to take a step back, but the crowd is closing in, and I don’t get far before I am pushed again, and large hands grab my waist to steady me. His hands are big enough that they nearly encase my entire waist, and I am staring right at his chest. Looking up, it feels like it takes forever to get to his face. It is the same man we were all admiring earlier. He is well over six feet tall and so broad I can’t actually see around him.
“It’s okay, I am used to women falling for me,” he says smoothly, his deep brown eyes looking right into mine, with a smirk I want to slap off his face.
“Oh, of course you are. It must be so hard catching us all?” My tone is saccharine, not in the mood for another cocky man like him. This place is swarming with them, and I really need to get out of here before my history becomes my undoing. His eyebrows raise in a challenge.
“Well, I have a lot of practice. Only, you might just be the most beautiful yet.” Great. He is flirting with me. I can’t believe this talk actually works on some women.
“And such big, strong hands to catch little ole me.” I bat my eyelashes and give him a fake grin.
