Chapter 21
Evangeline
"He's cute," Annaleigh coos as she grabs her root beer float off of the table, bringing the frosty glass to her lips.
Blakely tilts her head to the side, inspecting the photo closely before giving a slow nod. "Yeh, I see you with a guy like him," she says with a grin, her green eyes flitting to mine.
I give the photo a cursory glance and turn up my nose at Thad, an underwear model I met at a photo shoot in Venice. Or was it Rome? I'm not sure at this point. All I know is that he's not my type. At least, not anymore.
"Too pretty.” I scowl. “Looks like he spent the morning watching contouring videos on YouTube."
My friends giggle. "Okay, next!" Annaleigh commands Blakely who dutifully scrolls down to the next guy before holding up the phone for my inspection.
"Ooh! Isn't he handsome?" Annaleigh looks all excited as she leans over Blakely's shoulder, jabbing a finger at the screen.
Blakely tilts the phone my way, her expression mirroring Annaleigh's excitement. "You've got to think he's cute. Admit it, Eva!"
Ugh!
The three of us are having drinks in a corner booth at the Opal Lounge, one of two Saturday night hang-outs in Reyfield. Honestly, I'd rather be in bed right now. I'm not in the mood for company. But my girls insisted. We haven't seen each other in months and as far as they're concerned, it's only a matter of days until I jet off to the next faraway location for another photo shoot or fashion show. So anyway, we're having drinks and they've decided to entertain themselves by trying to play matchmaker between me and the guys in my Facebook feed.
Rolling my eyes at a photo of Craig, a personal trainer I met when I was out in L.A, I lift my appletini to my lips. "I've seen him at the gym. He has no dick print. None...Never trust a guy who has no dick print in a pair of clingy nylon sweat pants."
Blakely laughs giddily but Annaleigh is beginning to look impatient. She snatches the phone out of Blakely's hand and scrolls further down. "What about him?" she asks snarkily. "What's wrong with him?"
It's a picture of a plaid-wearing hipster. His beard that looks like a hay bale growing on his cheeks. I vaguely remember him as a photographer on a shoot I did in Vancouver last year.
I scrunch up my nose. "He smells like vinegar. I enjoy a little balsamic on my salads, but not between my sheets."
Blakely titters again. She used to be shy and painfully reserved but I swear, since she and her roommate Nicholas fell in love, it's like she's on a steady diet of laughing gas. And I’ve got to say, ‘happy’ looks good on her.
Annaleigh on the other hand, does not seem amused. She and my brother got married in a shotgun wedding that no one saw coming and her life’s purpose immediately became pushing me to get into a serious relationship. I’ve resisted vehemently because I'm an emotional drifter and I've never really met a guy who could hold my attention beyond a few decent orgasms.
At least that's how I was before Raphael...
Annaleigh brushes her dark bangs out of her eyes. "Sheesh. Since when are you so picky, Evangeline? You've always been a commitment-phobe but you've never been shy about choosing a bed buddy."
I level her with a look. "Wow! Way to call me a 'ho, Annie!"
She shoos me off with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, you know what I mean!"
To be fair, I do know what she means. I'm the one who always used to tell her, "We're 22! We should be having all the sex we can handle." I still believe in that philosophy, except that now I only want to be having that sex with one man.
"Wait, are you already seeing somebody?" Blakely eyes me closely.
I chuff. "Like who?" I hope that she can't read me. I bring my huge cocktail glass to my lips to hide my expression.
"I don't know, " she shrugs then takes a sip of her own drink.
"Like Mr. Silver," Annaleigh snorts, shoving a chip into her face. When I don't join in her tittering, she freezes and her eyes go wide. She leans forward and whisper-yells, "Like Mr. Silver?"
And now Blakely is gawking at me, too. God I don't have it in me to lie to these nosy bitches.
"Evangeline Brooks!" Annaleigh scolds, disapproval written all over her face.
Blakely looks shocked, plain and simple. “Am I missing something?”
Annaleigh and I share a knowing look but neither of us say a word.
At our silence, Blakely’s eyes widen further. "He's your dad's age," she informs me. As if I hadn't noticed.
I give Annaleigh a threatening look. "Don't you breathe a word of this to my brother!" Prescott would kill me while my father kills Raph.
Just like that – double homicide.
Annaleigh holds a hand in front of her like a shield. "I'm not touching that mess, not even with a ten-foot pole. This conversation never happened." She's quiet for a second and then she blurts out, "but come on, Eva! Your father's best friend?"
Blakely looks absolutely fascinated by the scenario. "Can you blame her, though? The man has ‘daddy fetish’ written all over him!"
"Thanks for the visual, Blakes," Annaleigh jeers, sounding annoyed.
Clearly drunk, Blakely takes yet another gulp of her drink. “He must be so good in bed…” she muses quietly.
He is indeed, Blakes. The memories tumble through my brain one after the other. Different positions and locations, but always the perfect angle, the perfect speed, the perfect depth. The man is skilled at manipulating my body. I bite down on my bottom lip to keep my whimpers inside.
“Wait – you slept with him?!” Annaleigh spits out.
Dreamy-eyed Blakely just ignores her. “He’s all big and muscular and experienced. God – I’m turning this into a romance novel in my head right now. Taken by my Father’s Golf Buddy.”
Annaleigh’s piercing contempt stays focused on me, “If you tell me that you call that man ‘daddy’, I swear to god, I’m gonna be sick…”
Blakely waves her off dismissively. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Eva. There are worse fates in life than being eaten out around the clock by a rich, dirty silver fox who looks like Raphael Silver.” She titters mischievously.
I shoot them each a nasty look in turn. "It's not like that, you guys. It's not some kinky fetish," I grumble defensively. "I – I care about him." That last bit was difficult for me to admit but it's true. This thing with Raph isn't just about sex. It never was.
For the short time that we spent together after the auction, he made me feel valuable and rare like a precious metal. He built up my confidence in the places where it was shaky. He helped me see myself as more than just a pretty face. Raph made me believe in myself…And then, he walked away.
Annaleigh watches me with a hiked brow. "So you want to be with him? In a relationship?" She sounds sceptical. My best friend knows that I’ve never been the relationship type.
I push a loaded sigh. "Doesn’t matter what I want. It's over now. He doesn't want..." My words trail off as my voice gets caught in my chest. I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
Jeez. This so isn't like me. I'm not the kind of girl who breaks down over a guy. At a bar, no less.
My friends look bewildered. They don’t know this side of me. They see me as wild, confident, outgoing, free spirited. That’s the façade I’ve shown the world for all of my life. The truth is, I've always felt so out of control, like a bush blowing in the wind. Once you get used to being a disappointment in your parents' eyes, you stop measuring each of your decisions in terms of how they will react. You start just doing your own thing.
But my time with Raphael has changed me. Profoundly. He grounds me, he makes me feel safe. Like I can trust him.
Like I can trust myself.
"Hey hey hey! Don't you dare cry," Annaleigh warns. "It's not that kind of party." The two of them scoot closer, wrapping me up in a bear hug.
I laugh. They squeeze me so tight I can barely find my hand to wipe away my tears. I collapse into the embrace. It really feels like they’re holding me together.
Blakely grabs me by the arm. "Come on! Let's dance it off!" I look at her with wide eyes.
Seriously, where is the old shy Blakely? And who is this confident new woman so full of great ideas?
I let my friends lead me to the dance floor and we start grooving, completely giving in to the catchy pop beat pulsing throughout the room. Before long, we're laughing and playing around, lost in the music. Raphael is just a dull ache at the back of my mind.
Until three songs later when I feel a strong arm wrap around my middle, pressing me into a hot, firm body. The familiar scent of warmth and musk fills my lungs causing me to tingle all over. I don't have to look back. The expressions on my friends' faces and the throbbing in my blood tell me exactly who it is.
His lips flit the shell of my ear. "Eva, come with me."