Clay ruffles his hair, and he looks up at him, his eyes full of affection.
“Don’t get too loud yet, mate. You know how Arsenal like to bottle it at the last minute.” Mason sticks his tongue out, and Clay laughs. “I’ll get the tissues ready for you.”
I sit here in complete disbelief at how my life has managed to do a complete one-eighty. How did I get so lucky? Brandy was perched at the bar as always, watching closely, her hostility radiating off her by the bucket load.
“It won’t last,” she snides, eye-balling me. “Make the most of it.”
I ignore her picking Noah up and making our way to the sofa’s, sitting Noah on my knee. Clay reaches over, grabbing Noah and placing him on his own lap.
“How you doing, buddy?” he asks, Noah leans back onto his chest, tracing his fingers over his patch, it had become his favourite thing to do when he was sat with Clay.
“You need to have a Man City badge on the other side,” Noah says, completely ignoring Clay’s question.
“That would be neat wouldn’t it? Not sure Pres would agree mind,” he says as he looks over to Drifter playing pool.
“Not a fucking chance,” he shouts as Rochelle hits him round the back of the head.
“Kids,” she chastises, and Clay throws his head back laughing. This really is a family unit, they didn’t have to be blood, they were family by choice, and I chose them.
“Boys,” Brandy’s screech comes from across the bar, and I see Mason stiffen instantly. The arms on my hair stand to attention, reminding me that these visitations were short lived, but I wanted them in my care not hers.
“But the game’s not finished,” Mason complains, pointing at the screen.
“I don’t care, time’s up,” she snaps. “Get your coats.” Mason rolls his eyes in that pre-teen dramatic fashion, and I smile to myself. He’s now giving her the same treatment he did me on that initial visit. She stands from the bar, hands on her hips.
“Don’t you roll those eyes at me Mason, you wait till I tell your dad you’re being disrespectful,” she shrieks, and it goes straight through me. He stands up in a strop, grabbing his coat. Clay lifts Noah to his feet, and I grab his coat, helping him put it on. I give both the boys a kiss on their heads and I hand them over to Brandy.
“I’ll see you next week, boys,” I say as Brandy grabs Noah’s hand.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” she snaps, and my blood runs cold. I know she’s trying to get under my skin, trying to cause a reaction. Anything to give her a reason to stop having to do these visitations. Clay comes up behind me, popping his arm around my shoulders and pecking me on the head.
“Go get ready. You and the ol’ ladies are going out for the night. You’ve hardly left this place, and you need some downtime.”
“Ooooh, girls’ night,” Red shouts and rubs her hands gleefully.
Rock’s mouth hangs open. “Wait? What -”
“Looks like you’re on babysitting duty tonight,” I laugh.
“Fuck, what you do that for, Clay?” he whines.
We’ve come out to this little quaint wine bar that’s within walking distance of the club. I’ve never really done girls nights out till I became part of this world. My life revolved around Liam and the children, he didn’t really agree with any of the friendships I had before we met so they all became distant over time. I look back now and realise how much he isolated me. I never even recognised it, it just gradually became the norm. He made me think that we didn’t need anyone else, but ever since I’ve been part of Clay’s life, it makes me notice how much of a bubble I was living in.
The bar has low lighting. A circular bar sits in the middle of this grade two listed building. Brick walls on display around the entire room, floor-to-ceiling windows allow the courtyard outside into the building. There are plush seating areas throughout and leather stools the entire way around the bar. We take a seat in one of the windows, watching as the rain splashes against the windowpane. Red makes her way over to us, carrying a bottle of wine and three empty glasses. She places them down in front of us and begins filling them.
“I opted for a white,” she says, pouring the wine into my glass. I lift it, inhaling the smell and turning my nose up. I’ve never really been a wine drinker, but I didn’t want to let the ladies down when they said they knew the perfect place to go. Rochelle laughs at me, picking up her own glass.
“Not a fan?” she asks.
“That obvious?” I laugh, taking a sip, contorting my face as the wine hits the back of my throat.
Red sits down opposite me, “You shoulda said.”
“It’s cool, it’s a beautiful bar,” I say, looking around at the high ceilings and chandeliers hanging low, adding to the atmosphere.
Red picks up her wine, sinking back into her chair, taking along gulp. “Damn, that’s good.”
“You’re supposed to take your time,” Rochelle snorts.
