Tiffany

 

 

 

Early as usual.

Every Thursday my friends and I meet for drinks at a bar. We’ve been doing this for about six months now. We call it SWIM Meet, which is an acronym for Smart Women with Idiot Men.

It was started by Morgana Drake, who had a thing for her boss and my good friend, Henrik Payne. And her best friend, Aria Dixon, joined along with Morgana’s coworker at the time, Evaleen Bechmann.

They all had troubles with the men they were dating, hence the name of the group. I was the odd one out because I wasn’t dating anyone or hadn’t since college, over a decade ago.

I started coming around the time of David’s surgery. It gave me a break from the ups and downs of wondering if he would come out of the coma he was in for a week after surgery, and the stress of not knowing if the surgery even worked.

It was a low time in my life, and these ladies helped me make it through by letting me talk, cry, and get a little tipsy from time to time.

Now, it gave me something to do that was just for me. Up until earlier this year, my life consisted of working on graphic design projects for clients and taking care of my son. Running to David’s doctor appointments, specialists, therapists, bathing him, feeding him, making sure the medical equipment arrived on time, and countless other tasks.

I never had time to go to the movies with friends or do all the things single women at thirty-two do. Now that David had some independence from the operation, everything had changed.

“Here’s your whiskey sour.” The waiter placed it on the round wooden table in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said.

It’s funny, but I never used to drink whiskey sours. For some reason over the past month, whenever I came to SWIM Meet, I craved one.

“What a day.” Morgana appeared as I was taking a sip of my drink.

She threw her purse on the table, removed her jewel green blazer, and plopped down on the dark leather booth seat opposite me. Her fiery hair pulled back into a long ponytail.

“Busy at work?” I asked.

“You’d think Armageddon was about to happen if we changed the color of our logo from blue to green.” Morgana pulled at the band holding her ponytail in place and shook out her hair.

“Can Henrik help? I know he used to do that.” I smiled, trying my best to help my stressed friend.

“Ugh, no. As much as I would love to be able to ask for his opinion from time to time, when I do ask for help, he proceeds to explain the entire history of Mimir and how marketing the past thirty years has changed drastically. If I wanted lectures, I would go to college again.”

Morgana lifted her arm, signaling our waiter and placed her drink order when he arrived.

“I heard from Aria and Evaleen. They are both running a little late.”

“I bet they are.” Morgana smirked.

“What does that mean?”

“Aria works from home—painting—and Evaleen now spends her day writing from home. I know for a fact that Edgar left early today. I think they are being held back, so to speak, by their men.”

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and tried to cover it up by tilting my head forward to drink through the little red straw in my glass. Some tendrils that fell out of my braid fluttered around my face, shielding the embarrassing blush.

Despite knowing these women for six months, I still felt like an outsider. Morgana’s wedding was coming up in just over a month, and I had a terrible feeling I was going to be the single woman at the reception that every relative and friend in attendance would try to set up with any “perfect man” they knew.

Maybe I could hire an escort for the wedding, just to ward them off. I’ve heard some crazy stuff about Morgana’s family, especially her grandmother. Best to be prepared with a male shield.

The waiter arrived with Morgana’s white wine.

“I wanted to discuss with you about David having a part in the wedding,” Morgana said as she placed her glass down.

“Of course. I think he would love that.” I smiled but wondered what she would expect of him.

Maybe she wanted David to draw something creative for their program. He’s been getting into comics and dabbling with creating a special hero for a comic book he wants to write. He won’t let me see anything, but if it’s anything like the digital drawings he did for art in school, it’s going to be amazing.

“Henrik would like David to be one of his groomsmen.”

I stared at Morgana, her round hazel eyes full of hope. She didn’t realize, even Henrik was naïve at times, when it came to David. My son couldn’t stand for long periods of time—especially, through a wedding ceremony.

“Would he be allowed to sit or maybe use a cane?”

I added the cane as an option but knew David would hate that. With his new ability to walk, he did everything he could not to use a walker or cane. Even when he took his first steps earlier this past spring, the therapist tried to get him to use a walker but he said he’d rather fall than use one.

The boy that spent most of his life reliant on medical equipment to get around and live and never wanted to look back.

Her eyes widened as she frowned. “Oh, well, I guess we hadn’t discussed that. Henrik mentioned how strong David had become this year and he thought David might like to be included with the guys. He’s getting older—”

I held up my hands. “It’s your wedding Morgana and I don’t want to put limitations on it. That’s not my place but as strong as my son has become, he wouldn’t be able to stand through the ceremony without some help. Perhaps he can help design the program or even be an usher.”

Morgana nodded and turned her sight to the growing after-work crowd in the sports bar. Her brow wrinkled as she tilted her head. “That guy is staring at you. He looks really familiar.”

I glanced in the direction Morgana was staring at to find Jagger across the room, in a corner booth by the hallway to the bathrooms.

My head whipped back as I cupped the side of my face so he couldn’t see me. “Oh no. That’s David’s new physical therapist. He’s an idiot. I’m guessing that David is the very first client he’s ever had as the man doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Morgana’s face brightened as her smile grew. “Really. He may be an idiot, but he’s a mega-hot idiot.”

She wiggled her eyebrows as she stared at me.

“No. Just, no. I’m done with one-night stands. After what happened in Vegas, I don’t ever want to go down that road again. Who knows, next time I might wake up next to a serial killer.”

“You wouldn’t wake up if he was a serial killer.”

“Exactly,” I said.

Morgana tilted her head. “It’s really weird about that night. I can’t remember anything other than meeting you and Aria at the bar. Some guy bought you a drink. I tested it with my special nail polish to see if it was drugged, but it wasn’t. Then I ordered my drink after Aria left and that was it.”

What Morgana said didn’t sit well with me. I thought I had too much to drink in Vegas but if Morgana can’t remember anything either, then perhaps it was something else. She tested the drink to see if it was drugged, so that wasn’t it. What could have happened?

I was about to discuss this further with Morgana when a familiar deep voice called out my name.

“Tiffany,” Jagger said as he appeared in front of our table.

He was taller than I remember, but that might be because I was currently sitting. His disheveled brown hair wasn’t as annoying as it was last week. Perhaps it was his dark T-shirt and fitted jeans that complemented his features as to why I didn’t find it as off-putting as I did last week.

“Hello, Jagger.” My smile not so forced.

“Funny running into you here,” he said as his eyes slid to Morgana before quickly turning back to me.

He seemed nervous. He seemed nervous when he came to my apartment. Maybe he was the type of guy who always appeared on edge.

“Yes. I guess we will see each other at five o’clock tomorrow for the session,” I said as I widened my smile trying to give him the hint that he could leave.

I wasn’t usually this rude to people, but how he acted at the session last week still made me question his ability to help my son. After he left I mentioned to David that I wanted to contact the PT group to find another therapist, but David begged me not to. As much as I disliked Jagger, my son loved him. I gave into David because he would be the one working with Jagger, not me.

“Of course. Yes. Now about that, is there somewhere we could talk?” Jagger asked as his eyes flickered back to Morgana.

“Hi, I’m Morgana. It’s nice to meet you.” Morgana stood and shot out her hand to him.

His eyes widened and he grew silent, staring at her hand. Jagger had the same fearful, confused gleam in his eyes when I answered the door last week.

“Hello, Morgana. I’m Jagger,” he mumbled and shook her hand once before pulling his hands behind his back.

“I have to use the restroom so you two can talk while I’m gone.” Morgana turned and bounced happily toward the back of the room.

I frowned as I watched her leave but as I turned my attention back to Jagger, I caught him watching me.

“Please, sit.” I waved at the booth seat Morgana had recently vacated. “Now, what did you want to discuss?”

Just as he took a seat, the waiter appeared and Jagger waved him off.

“Perhaps I wanted a drink,” I said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I saw your glass and just assumed . . .” He waved his hand at my mostly full glass of whiskey sour.

“I usually like to have two drinks at a time. You know, double fisted,” I said as I glared at him.

That was a lie. The truth was, I rarely drank. Only during SWIM Meet did I allow myself one drink, on occasion, two. Having a drunk driver kill my husband made drinking something I refused to let hurt me any more than it had. That was until Vegas. I hadn’t planned to drink a lot, even in Sin City. Yet, I must have as I blacked out. I wish I could remember what happened.

I had no idea why I said that to Jagger. Maybe because he assumed a lot of things. Assumed I would tell him how to do his job. Assumed I wouldn’t need to place an order.

Assumed I found him attractive.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

“I can call him back?” He began to raise his hand but I reached over and pulled his arm down.

Heat traveled up my arm and my skin tickled with the most curious yet exciting sensation. I snapped my arm back, and as I gazed up at him, his emerald eyes darkened.

“I was only joking, haha.” My weak laugh wasn’t fooling him. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

I shoved my hands under the table and crossed my fingers, hoping he was here to tell me he couldn’t be my son’s physical therapist anymore.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Jagger said as he pulled some folded papers from his back pocket.