I’m talking with my dad when my mom shouts from the other room, “Great news! They’re coming over for dinner tonight!”
I smile and shake my head at my dad, who just smiles and wraps one arm around my shoulders. “You kids are our entire world, kiddo. You should be used to it by now.”
Dinner is wonderful. My cheeks hurt from smiling and my belly hurts from laughing so hard.
My older brother Jason has always been the cut-up of the family. He got in trouble for it a lot in school, but in his career as a high school history teacher, it serves him well. His wife Claire was his high school sweetheart. She runs a day care out of their home, which started out of necessity when she had to quit her job after having twins. She wanted to stay home with Tyler and Cameron, so once the boys were old enough, she, her sister, and their mutual friend started the day care.
I fill everyone in on the expansion of my studio and plan to go to my main studio in Boulder tomorrow to meet with the team and check on things.
I end the night chatting with my mom in her reading nook. She asks me about “boys,” as she still likes to say, and I just evade the question. I know that if I tell her about the miscarriage, it will only break her heart. Plus I’m still getting over all of it. Better to just leave that part of my life in the past.
Me: As promised, I’m telling you that I’m going out. I promise to behave . . . mostly. :)
Steph: Where are you going? Turn your location services on and share with me pleeeease. Also make sure you text me when you get there and when you get home. You going alone?
Me: Okay, Mom, I promise. Yes, alone. Just going out for a drink and a dance. Need to feel good about myself again and have some meathead named Derek buy me a drink. Won’t be out too late, I promise.
I toss my phone in my purse and head downstairs to grab my Uber.
“You sure your dad can’t drive you, sweetie? He doesn’t mind.”
“Mom, I’ll be fine. Just heading out for a bit. I promise not to be too late. And as much as I appreciate it, I’m 26 in 33 days, so I don’t need a chaperone.” I give my parents a hug and step outside, sliding into the back of my ride.
The club is still pretty dead at this hour. I knew it would be, and that’s okay. I’m over the “screaming to hear someone talk while downing $5 you-call-it shots at 2 a.m.”
I’m halfway through my martini when my phone buzzes on the bar top. I grab it, seeing Grant’s name on the screen. My stomach instantly drops as I slide open the notification.
Grant: Hey, heard you might be in town. Can we talk please?
I roll my eyes.
Me: Steph tell you?
I’m not annoyed at her. I’m sure he stopped into The Lariat yesterday and it came out over small talk.
Grant: Where are you? I can meet you.
Me: I’m good, thanks. Bye now.
Grant: Stop being petulant, Leigh. We need to talk. Let’s be adults about this.
That pisses me off. We need to talk? About what? He said his piece. He made it clear he doesn’t want a relationship with me, so what is there to talk about at this point?
I finish my martini that went straight to my head, the liquid courage flowing straight to my thumbs as I type.
Me: Fuuuuck offffff
I smile to myself when I imagine the rage pulsing through his veins when he reads that.
“Don’t care,” I mutter as I flag down the bartender for another.
“Can I grab this one?”
I turn to my right to see a tall, overly-muscular blond guy smiling at me. He looks like he survives on a diet of protein powder and chicken and breathes and sleeps the gym. His neck is as wide as his head and his arms are barely contained in the white Henley that’s stretched taut over his muscles.
Bingo!
“Absolutely,” I smile as I extend my hand to him. “Leigh.” I toss my phone in my purse, ignoring any further incoming texts from Grant.
“Jeff.” He smiles and takes a seat, his tree-trunk thighs about to rip through his skinny jeans.
If I had to guess, I’d say Jeff is probably 22, max. Nothing wrong with a younger man. God knows my taste in older men has burned me.
“So, what brings you out, Jeff?”
“I reached 50,000 followers on Instagram today, so I thought my boys and I should come out and celebrate . . . but then I saw you.” He gives me his best flirty grin and I smile.
“Well, congrats to that, Jeff!” I raise my fresh martini enthusiastically and he grabs his shot of tequila to toast. He spends the next 20 minutes explaining to me in great detail the proper lifting techniques, his favorite protein powder, and what his diet is like. Tonight is a “cheat night.” He also pulls up his Instagram to show me all of his pictures—99% of which are gym selfies—and to explain the workout plans he sells.
This calls for a third martini.
I’m not the slightest bit interested in what he does, just as I suspect Jeff isn’t the slightest bit interested in what I do, because during this entire exchange, he hasn’t asked me a single question.
I look around and notice the place is getting busier and the music has picked up. There are several people out on the dance floor and my two martinis have me feeling pretty fucking fantastic.
“You dance, Jeff?” I lean forward and ask in his ear.
“Hell, yeah,” he says taking my hand and leading me out to the floor.
The music is pounding, the beat reverberating through my body as I sway and bounce to the music. Jeff’s hands are on me, wandering. His eyes are all over me too.
“You’re so hot,” he shouts over the music, pressing his forehead to mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, my body pressed against his as I continue to let the music and alcohol carry me away. I feel his hands travel from my waist to my ass. He grabs me, pulling me closer as he shoves his face against mine. Our lips meet and we kiss. It’s messy and not good, but in this moment, I don’t care. I just want to feel something again.
I close my eyes and try to enjoy it—try to get lost in it—but suddenly I’m tumbling forward as someone shoves Jeff away from me.
“What the fuck?” he yells and I spin around, steadying myself to see . . . Grant? His eyes are huge, both hands are balled into fists, and some hair has fallen over one eye.
“You let him kiss you?” He spits the words out at me. “You let him put his fucking hands on you?” He’s shouting in my face and I don’t know what to do.
“How the hell did you find me?” I ask, but the moment I do, I realize he probably reached out to Steph when I ignored him. I shake my head. “You’ve got some nerve, you asshole!” I shout back at him, shoving a finger in his face.
“Hey, man, I had her first,” Jeff says, flexing his chest as he widens his stance.
“Yeah? Well, she’s not yours, bro.”
“Uh, I’m not yours either, Grant,” I spit back.
“Get lost, man. She wants me, not you,” Jeff says, and I know it’s a mistake. Grant’s eyes go from anger to pure fucking rage. He steps closer, standing in front of me as he calmly slides one hand in his pocket and gets in Jeff’s face.
“That right?” He looks down at his feet casually, rubbing the dark scruff on his jaw. “Did she tell you that just a few weeks ago, she was pregnant with my baby?”