Chapter 18

The living room was full of junk, even messier than the last time I’d visited. The Playboy magazine still had a prominent position on the coffee table open to the plastic, bleach-blonde, size zero, fake boobed centerfold. I looked away. Not only because the stick figures made me feel bad about my curves, but they reminded me of my mom. In prison.

Mom was to blame for that one.

On the rare occasion I’d gone to visit her, she’d been pretty explicit about conditions in the prison. Apparently, she had a girlfriend now. I would’ve been happy she’d found love, but I was too busy living my life and trying to make something of it to think about her self-induced lifestyle.

But success wouldn’t happen if my bakery went under because of the constant interference of officers tramping all over my kitchen.

“I’m glad you came back,” Matthew said, strolling into the lounge carrying two beers. At this hour?

I’d asked for a lemonade, but of course he’d ignored me. That was his style. Matthew did as Matthew pleased and fuck all the rest.

“Yeah, I can’t say the same.” I put on a tight smile and stared at him.

“So, have you thought about what I said last time?” Matthew popped the lids on the beers with a lighter and handed me one.

I held it, but didn’t take a drink. I had a hangover brewing, and the smell of the hops made my stomach turn.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“And yes, I won’t see Gabe again.” It actually hurt a little to say it. Why was that? No, it had to be the hangover making my senses dull. I didn’t care for Gabe that much, we’d hardly spent any time together.

I was so full of complete bullshit.

We’d shared so much. And one unforgettable night. The best of my life.

And now this. Blackmail a la my ex-fiancé and an investigation in my bakery. Fun times.

“That’s splendid,” Matthew said, putting on his fake British accent. I hated when he did that. “I’m proud of you, Ally. You’ve made the right choice. The guy was a total scumbag.”

I glanced at the Playboy pointedly and the beer in his hand. It was fucking eight in the morning. What a complete tool.

He didn’t catch my hint, merely slurped back some beer and smiled at me. “Now that he’s out of the way, we can negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” I asked, raising both eyebrows. I frowned. “You said you’d help me if I stopped seeing him.”

“No, no, you’re mistaken. I said I would sit on the case if you didn’t stop seeing him. There’s a difference. You should listen more carefully, sweetie.”

“Don’t call me that,” I barked, then took a sip of the beer. I instantly regretted it. I set it down on top of the magazine. On top of the naked woman’s clit.

“Are you ready to negotiate or not,” he said, leaning back in the chair and gesturing with his bottle. “Because I sure am.”

“Yes, I’m ready,” I replied. What did I have to lose? I needed to get the cops out of my kitchen and back to work before the bank called in the loans. Gabe was out of the picture because of the crazy lady who’d called me. Hot sex notwithstanding, I hadn’t signed up for that kind of drama.

There was nothing to negotiate. Whatever Matthew wanted, I had to give it to him because he had me by the short hairs and he knew it. A rapturous look settled over his face. The face I’d once found handsome now turned my stomach. Sweat ran down the back of my neck, and it wasn’t from the alcohol or the heat.

“Great. I want a date.”

“What?”

“I want to go on a date with you,” he repeated.

“What for? You broke up with me, remember?” I pinched my lips together. “Nothing’s changed. The results certainly haven’t. I’m still infertile.”

That was the reason he’d ended it. I couldn’t give him children. The cyst prevented it.

Granted, he hadn’t been a tasteless, messy pig at the time. If a Playboy had graced my presence when we were engaged, I would’ve thrown it at him. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that men didn’t look at porn to get off, but there was a distinct difference between enjoying it on the sly and throwing it in a woman’s face.

“I want a second shot at our relationship.” He shifted to the edge of the seat and grasped the beer in his palms, angling the neck of the bottle towards me. “I miss you, baby.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Besides, there are ways of getting around the whole infertility thing. Surrogates, adoption,” he said, pulling his face at the last option. Then, he reached under the Playboy and pulled out a newspaper article. “It says right here that Mayo is doing a trial of a new drug that’s perfect for women with only one ovary. They’re getting an eighty percent success rate of pregnancy. It should be FDA cleared and ready to hit the market in a few years.”

I snatched the article from his hand and as my eyes scanned it, my heart sang. He was right. I’d have to go online for more information the moment I got home. Matthew had never been a particularly empathic person. The idea of taking in someone else’s child was beyond his mental grasp, so it was obvious the Mayo article yanked his chain.

“A date. You want a date.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just a date, no strings attached. We’ll take it from there,” he said, swigging from the bottle afterwards.

I stared at him for a minute, considering the proposition. “And you’ll speed up the investigation if I go out with you?”

“Yeah, hell I’ll squash the damn thing.”

I nodded slowly. “Fine. You’ve got yourself a date,” I replied, hating myself to the bottom of my soul. I couldn’t turn back from this. I had to fulfill my dreams of independence. Even if it meant one date with a man I officially detested.

“Great, I’ll meet you at eight tonight, at Le Teresitas.”

“Mexican?”

“Yeah, their fish tacos are super cheap.”

I rose from our old leather sofa and bobbed my head at him. “It’s a date. I’ll see you there.”

Cheap ass wouldn’t even pick me up in his car to take me there? That was fine. I’d rather take my own than wind up relying on him for transport. I couldn’t help comparing him to Gabe. A man who’d asked me out on a proper date to a beautiful and pricy place. Like he was proud of me. Like my happiness mattered.

“I can’t wait,” Matthew said.

I couldn’t say the same, so I left the apartment and the beer on his Playboy in silence.