Aubrey has come to my rescue. She suggested we head over to Melrose for some lunch and shopping. It’s nice to spend time with her without the distraction of CJ.
“It’s weird eating and not being interrupted,” she says halfway through her pesto chicken salad. “If Chance were here, my chicken would be gone, and CJ would have already gotten bored, plus spilled this fancy champagne all over the table.”
I laugh, then take another sip from the wine I ordered.
“You miss them. It’s cute.”
“Am I that obvious?” She cringes.
“It’s okay to miss them. They’re your family.”
“But it’s breaking girl code,” Aubrey complains, finishing off her champagne. “Okay, change of subject. Explain to me why Olly’s in such a foul mood?”
Where do I even begin?
But if anyone will understand, it’s got to be Aubrey.
“Before you and Chance officially hooked up, did you fight a lot? I mean, fighting’s not good, right?”
Aubrey shakes her head, letting out a loud sigh.
“All we did was fight. Hot, cold, yes, no. But I couldn’t ignore the fact I was falling in love with him. It’s just one of those things. We didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but what mattered, we did.”
“Oliver is so—”
“Stubborn, arrogant, irrevocably in love with you?”
I’m blown away by her comment.
In love with me?
Oliver is many things, but not once has he shown me any signs of being in love with me. Maybe he wants to strip me naked and have his way with me, but not in love with me. No chance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Aubrey raises her eyebrow, followed by a crisp nod. “So, we’re still in denial phase. Gotcha.”
The heat begins to rise behind my eyelids, my mouth becoming incredibly dry. I lift my glass drinking the remainder of my wine, accidentally letting out an unladylike hiccup.
“I need more wine,” I beg, faintly.
Aubrey breaks out into laughter. “Okay, tomorrow night. You, me, and a bar with eighties music. How about it?”
“You got yourself a date, Mrs. Bateman.”
This bar is exactly what I need. A little retro, not overly crowded, and the vibe is chilled.
The music playing is all 80s from Madonna to Lionel Ritchie and even some Jefferson Starship. Although I wasn’t born in that era, I have a good appreciation for music allowing you to unwind and let loose.
The bartenders are extremely good looking. A bit young for me, but still worth admiring from the other side of the countertop. They shake the cocktail’s by hand, chatting up the other women with their sexy grins. Dressed in black buttoned shirts with pink flamingos scattered across the fabric, they complement the plain, dark walls and neon pink sign which reads Flamingo Bar.
After my third glass of chardonnay, I’m sure the air’s getting thicker until things get blurry, and we both fall into a fit of hysterics watching an older man do the robot by himself on the dance floor.
My breath comes in quick gasps between my unstoppable giggles. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over as Aubrey clutches onto her stomach, barely able to speak as she gestures for me to look at his moonwalk.
“Stop!” I latch onto Aubrey’s arm, barely able to breathe. “I can’t watch this anymore.”
We are both bending over the bar, consumed by the hilarity of the poor old man until Chance appears beside us.
“There you are,” Chance greets, leaning in to kiss Aubrey on the lips.
Mid-laugh, I stop to see Oliver standing beside Chance.
Great! What the hell are they doing here?
It’s like I cannot escape him no matter what I do.
“Oh my God. Did you leave the baby with Pixy?” Aubrey panics, stumbling off the bar stool.
“Relax. Adele is feeling better and popped by. What are we drinking?”
There’s an awkward silence between us. Oliver ignores my presence, so I chose to do the same. From the corner of my eye, he’s wearing a denim shirt with a white tee beneath it. His jeans appear dark, and I have to give it to him, the man knows how to dress.
Why does he have to be so handsome?
“Shots,” Chance demands over our silence while eyeing us both.
Moments later, a tray of drinks comes our way. Chance and Oliver don’t hold back, three in a row until Aubrey complains that drunk Chance is no fun in the bedroom. He’s all talk until he passes out only to snore like a freight train.
The wine, combined with the tequila, begins to make my head spin. I don’t need a repeat of the first night I met Oliver. My ego can only humiliate itself so much in the space of a few weeks.
“So, my boy, Olly, is heading to Colorado,” Chance says, patting him on the back. “Isn’t that where you’re from, Gabbie?”
“Yes,” I state with a slight slur. “A small county.”
Oliver exhales. “Known for snooping—”
“Excuse me?” I thunder. “For the final time, I wasn’t snooping. You know what? You’re so fucking arrogant, it’s like the whole world revolves around you.”
“Maybe it should?” he responds hastily, “Oh, I’m sorry, it revolves around you and Prince Charming.”
Aubrey is quick to diffuse the situation. “You know what? Let’s dance.”
She pulls me onto the dance floor, just in time for Cyndi Lauper. Halfway through the first chorus, a guy beside me, who’s a dead ringer for Zac Efron towers over me, nudging my shoulder.
“Sorry,” he apologizes with a smile.
“It’s fine,” I yell through the music. I motion for him to come in closer. “It’s great you’re dancing with your girlfriend to this music. Most guys hate it.”
He leans in, his warm breath against my ear. “Not my girlfriend. Sister. And I lost a bet, so it wasn’t my choice.”
I pull away, trying to hide my intrigued smile. He places his hand on my arm, a flirty gesture which I welcome, then leans back in. “Are you here with that guy at the bar who’s ready to maul me?”
Turning around, Oliver is leaning against the
