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“That’s another coin for the swear jar,” Toby pipes up, wriggling on my hip with happiness that he just caught me out.
“I think we should head out,” I say abruptly, ready to get the hell out of here.
“Wait. I want to hear more about the Funko Pops,” Lia says, her eyes twinkling, and if it wasn’t for the fact her smile beams like a ray of fucking sunshine, I’d be out of here like a shot.
Sighing, I plonk down on the corner of the sofa with Toby on my lap, making room for Lia beside me as I tell them both about my ridiculous obsession with Funko Pops. They sit listening, enraptured, whilst I glaze over the real reason I collect the stupid things. It’s better that she thinks I’m some kind of closet nerd than a man who’s childhood was so fucking destroyed by a violent man that I still seek comfort in the joy those damn things seem to bring me.
“So Funko Pops, huh?” Lia asks me in the car as we head back home.
Toby is fast asleep in his seat, worn out from our afternoon spent together. After visiting the gym we stopped off at the park, sitting in comfortable silence as Toby blew off some steam. At least this time he didn’t hurt himself on the slide.
“It’s kind of embarrassing,” I admit.
“Why? They’re collectors items. I can understand your interest.”
I throw her a curious look. “You can?”
“I used to collect china dolls. So I get it. They made me happy. Silly, right?”
“Not at all,” I say, wanting to open up to her, but somehow not able to find the words.
“Not that it matters now. Martin destroyed them all.”
“Well, I know they’re not made from china and wear pretty outfits, but you’re more than welcome to play with my toys,” I offer, realising too late how that sounded.
Lia laughs, and it’s so carefree, so pure, that my heart fucking soars at the sound. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
“And if you’re really good, I’ll even let you touch my Fred Flinstone,” I add, biting back a laugh.
Lia shakes her head with amusement. “Hendrix Hammer, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”
“Hey, you can’t blame a man for trying.”
EIGHTEEN
LIA
“Are you sure I look alright?” I ask Daisy as I check myself over for the hundredth time in the mirror. It’s Friday night and Drix and I are about to go to Bandits Bar to watch the band play.
“You look incredible, Lia,” Daisy replies, nudging Toby who is clutching hold of the Spiderman Funko Pop Drix gave him. Despite having bought him a full set of Marvel action figures, Toby prefers the Funko Pop. He hasn’t let it go, taking it with him everywhere he goes, completely forgetting about his first love, Blue Bear.
Toby looks up at me, his eyes bright. “You look pretty, Mama,” he adds, smiling sweetly.
I blow out a breath, looking back at my reflection in the full length mirror. I’m wearing a simple black dress I borrowed from Daisy that hangs loose from just beneath my breasts, skimming over my tummy and thighs. The top is a little tight over my breasts, with ruching that seems to accentuate them more, but I trust Daisy’s word that it’s not too revealing.
“Are you sure?” I ask, swiping my hand over the skirt, the hem of which sits a few inches above my knee, given Daisy is a few inches shorter than I am. It was the only dress in her wardrobe that actually fits me. The style on her would be looser, but because I’m much curvier, it hugs me around the top way more than it would her.
Daisy pushes up from the bed and steps up beside me as I stare at my reflection. “Lia, you’re absolutely stunning.” She lowers her voice, whispering in my ear. “Drix is going to have a coronary when he sees you.”
“I should definitely change then,” I reply with a soft laugh, my stomach twisting in knots from nerves.
Even though Drix insisted that this is just two friends going out to enjoy some music, it sure feels like a date to me. I can’t remember the last time I went out without Toby, let alone with a man who’s as handsome as Drix is, and who is slowly becoming more than just a friend.
“And your makeup is perfect too. That cherry red lipstick really suits you, and that emerald shade of eyeshadow really brings out your eyes. You sure are one hot mama!” she says, sliding her arms around me and giving me a quick squeeze.
“Thank you. I appreciate the loan of this dress,” I reply, sliding my feet into my black pumps with a two inch heel.
I usually avoid wearing heels because at five foot nine I’m tall already, but on this occasion I felt the outfit needed a lift, and so did my confidence. I find that there’s something about wearing heels that immediately makes a person walk taller, literally and figuratively, and tonight I want to at least feign some confidence, even if I don’t really feel that way.
