Find Me Alastar

Emerson

“Let’s talk about your apartment?” Brielle smirks.

I smile into my drink. “Its actually nice. My flat mates are friendly and normal. We went grocery

shopping today, and although they like some weird ass food, I think we are going to get along famously.”

Brielle shakes her head as she grins. “I knew you were freaking out for nothing.”

“My room is bigger and brighter than I imagined, and I have a really cool bay window looking out

onto the street.” It’s Saturday night and Brielle and I are having dinner in an Italian restaurant together

before we meet up with the boys we met on the plane. Then, if all goes well, we’re hitting the clubs.

“So, tell me everything,” I murmur as I bite into my garlic bread. “I want specifics.”

“Okay.” Brielle holds her hands up in an over exaggeration. “Right. The daughter’s name is Willow

and the boy is called Samuel.”

“Nice.”

“And I think Willow may be a bitch who is doing a bad job of pretending to be nice.”

I nod as I bite my garlic bread again. “Of course. Everyone’s a bitch at fifteen.”

“And Samuel is so starved of affection, it’s crazy. He slept in my room on the lounger last night.”

My face drops. “Oh, that’s sad.”

She nods and takes a sip of her drink. “I know.”

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“He’s a little nerdy but he’s so damn sweet.”

I rest my chin on my hand as I listen. “Where is the dickhead dad? Why is this kid so lonely?”

She shrugs. “He just works all the time.”

I screw up my face. “What a tosser. How could you go to work knowing that your only son is sad

when his mother has passed away?”

She sips more of her wine as she narrows her eyes. “That’s the weird thing… this kid is happy his dad

works.”

I frown. “He doesn’t miss him at all?”

She shrugs. “I don’t think so.” She breaks up the bread to two pieces. “So, I can’t sleep at your house

tonight because Julian is playing golf in the morning and he needs me at home to watch the kids.”

“What?” I snap. “You’re joking? It’s the weekend.”‘

She shrugs.

“He can’t tell you you can have weekends off and then tell you to be home.” This is ridiculous.

“He paid for a cab charge to get me home.”

“Too bad if you hook up.” “Speaking of hooking up. Spill.”

I smirk into my wine glass. “What?”

She looks at me deadpan. “I want the Mark lowdown”

“Yeah, he’s nice.” I sigh.

“Just nice?”

I shrug. “Maybe not even that.”

Her face falls. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m too fussy. He is nice to me.”

“But?”

“He’s really rude to other people.”

She screws up her face. “Like who?”

“Waitresses and people in shops and stuff. I thought it was an English thing.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not an English thing. The people are lovely.”

“I know.” I widen my eyes as I remember the jerk in the jewelry shop. “Oh my God. I met this other

hot guy who was a total flog.”

“Where?”

“In Heirloom, the antique shop where I bought my ring.”

“Show me your ring.”

I proudly hold out my hand.

“That’s beautiful,” she gushes. “I’m glad you got it.”

“Me, too.” I smile.

“Go on…”

“So, this guy came into the shop and I went all weird, too nervous to talk, and I don’t know, he’s not

even classically good looking but he has the thing.”

“Hmm, that dreaded thing,” she murmurs into her glass. “They either have the thing or they don’t.”

“Exactly,” I reply. “But then he had to ruin everything and open his big, rude mouth.”

Brielle smirks as she listens.

“Get this. I was trying on the ring and then he comes in and I see him and get all tongue-tied.”

“That gorgeous?” Brielle frowns.

“Smoking,” I reply flatly. “And the annoying thing was he knew I was attracted to him.”

“Hmm.” Brielle rolls her eyes into her glass. “Ugh, I hate that. Why do assholes always know they are

hot?”