Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,73
done,” she asserted, grabbing a bottle of whisky from the wet bar off the kitchen.
“Mia treated me to a facial. They just got a new esthetician; she wanted me to try her out.”
Not a lie. Though I was pretty sure Mia was lying about the new esthetician in order to trick me into getting some pampering.
I’d long stopped fighting against what I’d thought was pity charity at first but had now realized was just my friends trying to help me in any way they could.
Plus, I wasn’t about to turn down a free facial. I was a single mother with a broken heart and a secret sex relationship. I needed a facial. And maybe a lobotomy.
“Your skin looks great, honey, but it’s got nothin’ to do with a facial,” Evie recounted, pouring us each a generous amount of whisky.
I was planning on driving home, so I made a mental note to only drink this one glass, eat a lot of carbs and stick to water for the rest of the night.
There had been a handful of times, in the beginning, when we’d stayed the night because I’d gotten too drunk to drive my children home. Those days needed to be over.
I glanced to the hall, the sounds of my children giggling carrying. The happiness hit my throat.
“We need to go outside,” I said to Evie.
She nodded, leading me out the sliding doors that looked out onto their swimming pool, hot tub and barbeque area. There was wicker seating peppered around the property. Flowers everywhere.
It was an oasis that had only grown more beautiful following Steg’s death. Evie was not a woman to disappear into a hole of grief and whisky. No, she was a woman of purpose. She gardened. She renovated the kitchen. She organized club rides. I envied her.
“You’ve been screwing someone,” Evie stated matter-of-factly the second my ass hit the chair.
I looked to her with narrowed eyes.
“Don’t look so shocked. I know what a well fucked woman looks like,” she explained, lighting up a cigarette. She’d smoked continuously since I met her, yet the only thing she had to show for it was her husky voice and the faint smell of smoke that mingled with her perfume.
She’d aged with only a few wrinkles that only managed to make her more harshly beautiful. I worried that one day this vice would steal her from us too early. But if there was anyone who seemed too strong and stubborn for death, it was Evie.
Or maybe that was my brain trying to protect me because there was no way in hell I’d be able to manage if something else happened to someone I loved.
I could lie to her.
Rather, I could try to lie to her, but there was no way she’d believe me. Or let me get away with it. Plus, I respected her too much to lie to her. Beyond that, I needed someone to talk to about this. Someone who wouldn’t judge me. At least not as harshly as I was judging myself.
“Fine, I’m definitely well fucked,” I admitted.
She grinned. “I’d say.”
I looked at her face, looking for traces of anything to communicate that she thought it was too soon. That I was some kind of whore. Or a bad mother. Not that that was Evie’s style. Even if she was having thoughts like that, she wasn’t ever going to show that on her face. Being an Old Lady in the Sons of Templar for as long as she had had taught her a lot of things, including the art of having a poker face.
“He’s in the Sons,” I admitted.
“All the better,” Evie replied.
I furrowed my brows, looking to her. “Isn’t that a little... I don’t know, incestuous or somehow morally wrong? I should be with someone different.” I paused, trying to think of someone who would be more sensible to be fucking than a man in my dead husband’s MC. “An accountant,” I said finally.
Evie stared at me and cackled. “An accountant?” she repeated, still laughing. “Oh, baby, there is no way you’d ever be satisfied with an accountant. With some civilian with a 401k and a day job. We don’t work like that. Just because you didn’t patch in doesn’t mean you’re no less of an outlaw. For better or for worse, just like there’s no way out for the men wearing ink and leather, there’s no way out for you either.” She sucked on her cigarette. “There’s no way out for any of us.”