My all-black ensemble is a fitted, knee-length dress with a low neckline to show my ample bosom. No tights or stockings, but an emergency visit to the local beauty shop to buy instant fake tan was needed. The beautiful white bathroom now has brown spots smattering every surface. I hope the cleaners won’t be upset when they show up in the morning. After I tried to scrub it off, it looked worse.
Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I know I look good. Every curve is on show. My hair is out and full of curls, and my make-up is classic with my now-signature red lips. I’ve come to love the dark-framed glasses—they accentuate my eyes and give an individuality to my appearance. My look is completed withsimple black smart shoes with a super-high heel that make my butt bob and hips sway as I walk.
Amy is still chattering in the background. We have been on the phone for hours, discussing tactics for my date while I got ready. Every possible eventuality has been discussed and caused me multiple nervous breakdowns in the process. Finally, I told her to stop talking about it. She was making me more tense with heradvice.
Picking my phone up from the side counter, I tell my loyal friend, “Amz, I have to go now. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“As soon as you wake up, you hear me?” she orders. “No, as soon as he has pulled his dick out of your vagina, you phone me and tell me all about it. I don’t care what time it is. I want to live vicariously through you. Fuck I need a shag,” she says.
I giggle at my crazy friend.
“I’m not going to sleep with him, Amz. But I will phone you in the morning. The right guy will come along, honey. You deserve some happiness too.”
“Okay, Katie. Let’s not let my crappy life ruin the mood of your big date tonight. Have a fantastic time. Love you.”
“Love you too, Amz.” I blow her a kiss and cut the call.
The clock shows 7:15 p.m. He’s late—maybe he changed his mind. I check my phone for the thousandth time in ten minutes. No messages. Butterflies swarm in my stomach, my anxiety rising with the beat of their wings. A knock at the door cuts through the nerves, and I totter over to open it.
Brad stands in the hallway looking dashing and incredibly confident. He’s wearing a fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt, as if he stepped out of a high-end men’s clothing catalog. In his arms, he’s carrying a dozen red roses. My jaw drops. This gorgeous man is here to collect me for a date. I can’t believe my luck.
“Katie Clark. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Words so laden with promise; my panties could drop of their own accord. If he was to grab me now and take me into my room, my legs would spread enthusiastically. But no. This is a proper date, and I’m not a cheap whore desperate for sex, I remind myself. But if I’m going to have unconnected, casual sex, this man would be ideal with his strong body and piercing eyes—eyes that undress me on the doorstep.
“Hello,” I mumble, shy.
He passes me the bouquet.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful. You really shouldn’t have.”
“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady.” He smiles. “Shall we go?”
I place the flowers on the table and take his arm.
“Where are we going, Brad?”
He taps his nose with his finger. “That’s for me to know and you to be incredibly impressed when you find out, Katie Clark. I want to dazzle you.”
I grin at him like an idiot then mentally chastise myself for being so easily damn impressed. Romance is not only my job but my dream; the familiar excitement I’ve felt before reappears. The promise of what is to come.
As we walk out my front door, I tell myself to see where the night takes me. Not get ahead with stories of soulmates and finding love. But even as I do, I know the romantic inside is taking over, writing a happy ending that doesn’t quite exist yet.
Chapter twenty-nine
Lance
Two months have passed since the paternity test. The nurse advised me I would probably have the results within the month, but staff strikes in the biology labs have delayed everything. Typical.
I’ve seen Dog’ssoneight times since he was deposited in my front garden. Beth has brought him to my house once each week. Yesterday, she phoned to tell me that all necessary checks were completed, and if the paternity test concludes he’s Dog’s, he’ll be placed in my immediate care.
The reality is as exciting as it is terrifying. Becoming a parent again would be a dream come true; doing it as a single father, overwhelming. But I owe this to my friend. Dog had my back more times than I care to admit. This time, the responsibility is mine. And deep down, I’m praying this little boy is his.
There’s been no update on his mother, but they’ve discovered her full name is Amber Stevens and she lives in Leeds. She’dtaken three months’ leave from her hairdressing job to gofind herself.
Her boss was aware of her pregnancy but was told the baby was being adopted by a family member. Beth said she described her as a good worker—quiet and kept to herself. No one has seen her since she left to travel to Scotland. She’s now listed as a missing person officially. She’s vulnerable. That concerns me. I’ve seen too many people jump without obtaining help. I pray this doesn’t happen to her.
Hannah has been quiet since the baby’s appearance. When I’ve asked her if she wants to talk about it, she saysnoand leaves the room. I’m not sure how to support her. It’s not exactly a common situation to be in. Her earlier positivity has vanished.