‘I was going to sayfun.’ My words are a touch smug as I pick up my glass. Ours wasn’t a meaningful connection.
‘Sure, you were,’ she responds, using the same superior tone. ‘But why is this just a screenshot? I can’t see the app on your phone?’
‘Jesús, María y José!’ I exclaim, taking my phone from her hand. ‘Nosy much? I no longer have the app because I no longer date online. I deleted it after getting this close’—I bring my forefinger and thumb together, leaving a tiny space between—‘to screwing a married man.’
I take a fortifying sip of my drink. I’ve never really had close girlfriends before. Not the kind to confide in, anyway. My friendships pre-Paisley were shallow and consisted of coffee dates and evenings out. Certainly not the sharing and emotional kind. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe those are the friendships I’ve sought. Whatever the reason, I still sometimes feel a little strange admitting to my own problems and fears. To the mistakes I’ve made or, in the case of the married man, almost made. Though my biggest mistake of all I’ll always keep to myself.
‘God,’ Paisley replies in horrified tone. ‘But that’s on him, not you. You can’t let one asshole, one bad experience, put you off.’
‘Oh, that was only one of a number of bad experiences.’ My tone is dry as I recall the date who invited me to slip into the bathroom with him to do a line of coke from his dick, and at least four others who mispresented everything on their profiles from jobs to heights and hairlines. ‘Online dating is not for me.’
In fact, I’ve found that dating full stop isn’t for me. I’ve had one serious relationship in my life, and that was enough to put me off ever getting involved again, but I persevered. Like the family motto on our crest says,Virtute et labore.By valour or exertion. Let it not be said that I haven’t tried, because I have, but it just hasn’t worked. Quite frankly, I’m done. And in fact, as I approach my milestone birthday, I’m beginning to form other plans. Big plans. Exciting plans. Plans that prove that I don’t need a man.With the exception of the one little issue I’m currently dealing with.With that thought, I open my clutch to return my phone at the same moment itbingswith a text.
‘It’s not a question of needing,’ Paisley protests, but I’m not listening.I might not need a man, but it seems my body wants one, I consider as I stare down at the phone in my frozen hand. Unfortunately, my hand is the only frozen part of me as the rest—from brain to body—turns to goo.
‘Flynn?’ My God, Paisley has the vision of a hawk. ‘Does that say Flynn?’ Her words are like little bullets of excitement as she tries to swipe the phone from my hand. But I’m quicker.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ she demands as I move the phone from her reach. ‘You dark horse! How long has this been going on? Don’t need a man, my ass,’ she adds gleefully. ‘Could that be because you’ve already got one?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ I slip my phone into my clutch, steadfastly ignoring how my face has begun to heat.
‘Have you been holding out on me? Because if you tell me you’ve been seeing him since the wedding—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That was just one night—I told you.’ And since then, I’ve just been thinking about him. And cursing him—him and his magic penis. ‘Do you honestly think I could’ve hidden that sort of secret from you for months? I couldn’t even keep it from you for a day.’
She smiles like the cat that got the cream—no, the cat that bathed in the cream, like some superior Cleopatra of cats! ‘So, am I to understand this happened last Saturday night—after the barbecue?’
‘No,’ I say again. ‘I came home from my walk yesterday morning to find him in my garden.’
‘That sounds a little sinister,’ Ella says. ‘I hope he wasn’t wearing camo and hiding in the long grass with binoculars.’
Paisley snorts. ‘Flynn is more likely to be found dressed as a garden gnome or something equally ridiculous.’
‘You’re both wrong... though he was in costume, I suppose.’ My heart pitter-pats at the recollection. The bulge of his bicep as he’d swept a lock of hair from his face, the bloom of lust deep in my belly as I’d watched his thin T-shirt ride up, flashing me a peek of those washboard abs.
‘Come on, then. Don’t keep us in suspense.’
‘He was in my garden, gardening, I suppose?’
‘Why?’ Paisley asks. ‘Altruism seems a little farfetched. Besides, you’re not a pensioner...’ I feel a little smug as the realisations dawns across her face. ‘He overheard you talking about the potting shed shoot at the barbecue.’
I incline my head. ‘And the rest. What else did we talk about on Saturday, hmm?’ I’ve no idea if Flynn caught only my smutty confessions. It’s not the kind of question I’m likely to ask. It’s not the kind of question any of us are likely to ask.
‘Oh!’ she exclaims, her hands flying to cover her cheeks. ‘No! He was eavesdropping on our conversation?’
‘Now who’s holding out, hmm?’ With a sniggering laugh, I take a sip of my drink.
‘Holding out? More like holding potentially embarrassing material. The total sneak!’
‘So he heard our slightly drunken conversation—our verysmuttyconversation. So what?’ As a description, I’d have gone with “insightful conversation”, especially from a business standpoint. But no matter. And strangely, while Paisley looks shocked, Ella looks rather serene.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Paisley begins. ‘Aren’t you worried?’
‘Why would I be? Mac already knows all my fantasies.’ She inhales deeply, her next words girlish and giggly. ‘And he already calls me his little girl.’
Daddy kink. It should be absurd—the pair are married and have children. Technically, Mac is already a daddy. But I can totally see how it might appeal to the pair. While Ella doesn’t appear the least bit submissive, I can see the appeal in someone taking care of you. Taking care of your needs. But can I see myself calling a man daddy? Probably not. But I can foresee others being into it, so slot away the idea for furtherprofessionalexamination later.
‘Fuckkk . . .’ Paisley’s curse hits the air like an exhaled breath. ‘It’s okay for you,’ she says, ‘but I see Flynn on the regular. How am I going to be able to look him in the eye now?’
