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Sofia leans back to look up at me. “Okay?” Her eyes narrow, not buying my calm tone.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“That was too easy,” she says and arches a brow.
“If the poor bloke gets anywhere near where he shouldn’t, he’ll pick up the smell of me on your pussy,” I say and grin at her because really, she wouldn’t be romantic with one man hours after another one already ate her.
“He’s not a dog, Bren.”
I roll my eyes.
TWENTY-NINE
Sofia
“You’re home early. Bad date?” Lola asks from her spot on my couch. She’s wearing her beloved TelevisionMarquee Moonalbum cover t-shirt over ripped jeans, which is hilarious in contrast to her curvy beach-babe body and blond hair.
I crumple on the seat next to her and toss my purse on the floor. “Not really a date after all. But bad day.”
“Sorry,” she says, handing me the remote. I shake my head, and she shuts off the TV. Addy is nowhere to be seen, so I can only assume she’s asleep in her room. “Wanna talk about it?” Lola asks.
I rest my forehead on my hand and peek at her through my fingers. “Umm...”
“Or do you want to talk about why Brenner Reindhart was at the bar yesterday?”
Everything is going to come out. I need to vent, to tell someone, but it feels wrong for anyone else to know Bren is Addy’s dad before he even has the chance to hold her in his arms.
I take in a deep breath. Twice, I managed to start to tell him, but each time he cut me off. Then his stupid, stupid declaration of love sent everything into a tailspin, and I couldn’t process anything, least of all, how to deliver devastating news.
“You know, when I met him that first time, what was it, over a year ago? I totally freaked out,” Lola admits, and I sit up to look at her.
“You did? I don’t remember that,” I say.
“Oh no, inwardly, I was freaking out. You don’t remember, but I was a mess in my work clothes, had rubber cleaning gloves on, and held a bottle of cleaning spray. I tell you, I’m cursed...”
Lola always claims to have been cursed with bad luck ever since her parents named her Dolores, the translation of which is pain or sorrow.
I roll my eyes. “Lola, you’re not cursed,” I say.
She nods. “I am. How else can you explain why on the day I got my chance to meet a member ofIndustrial November, I’m elbow-deep in a toilet?”
We both burst out in laughter, and Lola nudges me on the arm with her shoulder. “See?” she says. “Nothing can be worse than that. Now, tell me what happened with David.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope. I felt awful stringing him along. I finally agreed on a date only to back out on the first try.”
“Was he mad?”
“No. David’s a prince. He was maybe more...disappointed?”
Lola chats for a bit before heading home. I pay her for the night and go into Addy’s room to take a look at my angelic sleeping daughter. I have to roll my eyes because Lola hasMarquee Moonplaying softly on a loop in her room. According to her, a musical education can’t start early enough. I don’t disagree, though my choice wouldn’t have been Richard Hell’s band quite so soon. She should be older to appreciate that shit.
“You’re going to meet your daddy very soon,” I whisper and brush Addy’s wispy black hair away from her forehead. “He told me today that he wants kids. I think he’ll be delighted to have a daughter, and when he sees you—oh, Addy, you’ll have him wrapped around your chubby little finger.”
* * *
