Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,10

all the other Langmore men, successful lawyers who worked long hours to make rich assholes even richer.

Emma smiled with that slight twinge of pity. It was kinder, though, than the other ones I’d been treated to this very evening. “I think your husband would’ve been very proud of Ryder.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “He was.”

“You have a good son,” she said, softer now. “You raised a good, kind, and intelligent son. Kids are somehow more resilient than we are.”

I nodded again, said my goodbyes, and all but ran out of the room, almost colliding with someone in the hallway. Someone I really didn’t want to see at all, let alone be in close proximity to. David’s friend Martin, who I’d never liked and who always stared at my boobs when David wasn’t looking.

“Wow!” Martin said, grasping my shoulders to steady me. But his hands stayed there, despite the fact I was now steady.

“Bridget! It’s so good to run into you. Even literally,” he said, squeezing my shoulders. Still, he didn’t let them go.

His smile was blinding, too white, too straight. His tan was far too fake, something David found great amusement in. He was wearing a cashmere sweater with an expertly pressed shirt underneath. Slacks. An expensive watch. The uniform of the cookie cutter elite.

I moved backward so he was forced to let me go. “Martin, good to see you,” I lied.

I had planned on making it through tonight without interacting with any other parents, friends, or enemies.

I’d always found him misogynistic, slimy, and arrogant, both before and after his divorce. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, talked about women, in that subtle way that wasn’t bad enough to call him out but powerful enough to know I didn’t want to be alone with him.

Which I was.

Somehow, this cavernous hall, previously milling with parents pretending not to stare at me, was empty.

Martin’s eyes ran over me and my skin prickled. “It’s really good to see you too, Bridget. I’ve been thinking about you.”

Ick.

I smiled tightly in the ‘fuck you’ smile I’d worked on perfecting over these past years. “That’s so nice of you. If you don’t mind, I’ve got to get back to the boys.” I tried to move but he deftly sidestepped in his thousand-dollar loafers.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said, eyes running over me again.

I narrowed my eyes and jerked my chin up. “I can’t imagine why.”

My tone caught him. It was no longer pleasant and much closer to bitchy. The flicker of darkness in his eyes told me he didn’t like his women bitchy. He liked them empty-headed and subservient.

“Well, you alone in that big house. I’m sure there’s some things you need help with. Thought you might need a night off. We could go to dinner.” He stepped even closer so I could smell his expensive cologne that offended me and made me want to vomit. The last cologne I’d smelled was David’s, and he was ruining it. He was stealing the scent of my husband and replacing it with his obnoxious and tasteless stench.

I hated him.

Hated his fake tan, his fucking sweater. I wanted to take off my shoe and embed it into his fucking moisturized neck.

“Are you seriously hitting on me right now?” I asked, venom saturating my tone.

He blinked, stuttered for some half-assed excuse.

I didn’t give him the chance. “You played golf with David once a week. And you’re hitting on his widow at a parent-teacher conference. Jesus Christ.”

He looked around. Now there were people leaving classrooms, within earshot. His ears turned red and his eyes narrowed. Ah, an embarrassed and rejected misogynist was a dangerous creature, and he didn’t scare me one bit.

“I was asking you to dinner,” he hissed. “Being polite.”

I rolled my eyes. “You were trying to see if you could figure out a way to fuck a vulnerable woman, since I know you’ve wanted to screw me since the second we met,” I said. “That is not going to happen literally over David’s dead body. It will have to be over mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you were into that, you snivelly little shit.” I delivered the last part loud enough for my former group of friends to hear before turning on my heel and walking toward the exit.

It was a long walk with a lot of eyes and whispers, but it didn’t bother me. Not until the cool night air rushed to meet me. It may as well have punched me