“I didn’t mean that, Chelcie,” Dee whispers into the phone. Her earlier excitement has obviously dimmed because of my attitude. I instantly feel guilty for letting my crazy pregnancy hormones get the best of me.
“I’m sorry, Dee. I know you’re just trying to help. I just don’t know if I want to even be in a relationship. I’m going because—who knows—I might be, and I might meet someone worth taking the chance.” I take a deep breath and realize that everything I just said is true. I might not want to go or even think I need a man right now, but I could also be keeping the door to my own personal happiness locked tight by refusing to go.
“Really?” she questions. The earlier bravado in her voice is completely gone, making me feel like crap.
“Really, Dee. Thanks for everything. I’ll let you know how things go tonight with Nikolas, okay?”
We talk for a few more minutes while I continue to get ready before getting off the phone. I walk back into my bedroom and close the door, turning to face the mirror that is hanging behind it. I take a deep breath and look over myself with a detached eye.
My dark-blonde hair is hanging loose in waves; my makeup is minimal but still flattering. Even to myself, I can admit that I’m good-looking. I won’t be starring on America’s Next Top Model anytime soon, but I can turn heads. My eyes might be a little too large for my face, but they’re a unique gold-brown that I’ve always been told is beautiful. My nose is straight, not too large or wide. And my lips are plump and full.
My eyes travel down my body, taking in the loose, black dress that hangs from my body in a flattering way and successfully hides the little bump my baby gives my stomach. Smiling, I press the fabric to my stomach and rub the slight roundness. It’s you and me, kid.
After turning from the mirror, I grab my heels from the bed, balancing on one foot and then the other before I’m ready to go.
On the way out of the apartment, I let myself think about the man who not even a week ago consumed my every thought—before he made a giant ass of himself, that is. I might still be holding a ridiculous crush on Asher Cooper, but I like to think that even I’m smarter than to let that torch burn when it’s clear he wants to stay in the darkness.
“Have a good night, Joe!” I call to the apartment’s older and friendly doorman.
“You as well, Ms. Avery!” he replies, a smile in his voice.
I walk to my car and, with a deep breath, hope for the best with the night yet to come.
Chapter 4 – Chelcie
My nerves are a wreck by the time I pull up to the restaurant Nikolas told me to meet him at. I hadn’t heard of Slice before, and to be honest, I really didn’t care where I was going. I’m just ready to get this started and over with. Seven on the dot and so nervous I feel as if I’m going to puke all over my brand-new dress.
I press my palm against my belly, rubbing the rounded skin that holds my child within, and say a silent prayer that everything will go well tonight. Dee swears that Nikolas is a great guy, and from the few times that I’ve talked to him on the phone, I have to agree.
“It’s now or never,” I whisper to myself. If I waste another second sitting here, letting my nerves overtake me, then I know I’ll turn the car back on and take off as fast as I can. Go back home, where it’s safe. Where I can pretend that life outside my little bubble isn’t a big fat unknown.
It takes me a second to adjust to the lighting in the restaurant. It isn’t like it is bright outside, being that it’s seven at night, but it’s so dimly lit inside that I have to squint for a second before walking up to the hostess.
Or who I assume is the hostess.
“Yeah?” she questions, looking up from her desk, snapping her gum loudly, and twirling her long, pink, and clearly very unwashed hair.
Uh…okay.
“I think I might be in the wrong place,” I mumble more to myself than to the lovely piece of happiness in front of me.
“Sure,” she snaps, rolling her eyes and picking up the magazine she was reading before I had the audacity to interrupt her.
I open and close my mouth a few times before I snap it shut and try to calm my climbing temper. “Excuse me!” I force out through gritted teeth.
“What, lady?” she barks, throwing her magazine down and looking at me as if I am the offending party here.
“Is this or is this not Slice?” I know damn well it is, but for the life of me, I can’t understand how this thing in front of me has a job anywhere, let alone somewhere where she is in charge of first freaking impressions!
“Uh, lady, do you know how to read? It’s on the door when you walk in.”
The hell?!