Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,27
waiter appears beside her, she smiles and grabs two glasses of champagne off his tray. “Perfect, thank you.”
“Like magic.” I smile as I take one for myself and Bridget hands her second to Tonya.
Simon comes up behind Bridget and wraps his arm around her waist. “We should all head down to the dining area; we’re about to launch.”
Bridget nods. “Follow us, ladies?”
“So …?” Tonya whispers beside me, and I look back at her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Tonya. It’s just a casual thing, you know?”
“I know casual. You, however, dated the same boy in high school for two years and then him.”
I roll my eyes, and she rolls hers back.
“But, you’re okay?”
Unable to hide my smile, I nod. “I’ve been having less frequent conversations with myself lately, so that’s good.”
Her brows rise. “Seriously? That’s it? You’re going to freeze me out?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. He’s great. And honestly, I’m fine with casual.”
I call bullshit.
Ignoring my inner voice, I continue, “I’d say it took having a real man, one who’s honest about his intentions, to help me realize I’m still a woman. The added bonus is something about him makes me feel stronger.”
She nods and gives me an almost sad smile.
I finish my glass of champagne and grin. “But, if it wasn’t for my best friend, I would’ve been home getting off to Jamie and wishing I were Claire. Last night, this morning, this afternoon, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anyone but me.”
She nods once. “But, if you’d have given up on yourself, you wouldn’t have listened to your friend or the ‘magic’ you still believe in.”
“Magic was a gift from Dad; that will never die.”
“Ladies,” Simon calls after us, and I realize we’ve done that thing we do—got lost in conversation.
After Simon pushes his wife’s chair in, he moves around the extremely long, rectangle table and pulls one out for Tonya, causing her to blush. I look to see if it may have somehow offended Bridget. It hasn’t. I love when I see confidence within a relationship. Someday, I hope to find a man I can trust completely, one who I’ll just know won’t end up hurting me.
Smiling inside as I reach for my chair, I allow myself to think that maybe I already have.
Take it for what it is and enjoy.
“I’ve got this.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up in recognition of the voice, and I look behind me.
Tingles on steroid! Ethan James Stewart in a tux!
“I’ll get my own seat. Thanks, EJ.”
I look around him and see a malnourished, spray-tanned redhead in a green dress with a Jersey accent.
My eyes swiftly move back to his, and his narrow slightly.
Fuck.
You.
I glare at him as I grip the back of my chair and pull it out farther to sit my large ass in it.
“We’re at the other end,” he tells her as he attempts to push my chair in, but I plant my feet so he can’t move it and push against his effort.
When gravity seems to leave the dining room, I realize EJ is lifting my chair, pushing it in and setting it down. I want to turn around and sock him in the nose. Instead, I grip the edge of the table and try to remain calm.
I feel a hand on my knee and look over at Tonya, whose lips form a line. I force a smile, hoping it resonates, I’ve got this, and she nods her understanding.
I slip the small, navy Prada crossbody— a knock off, of course— over my body, wrap the strap around it, and place it beside me on the table. I, of course, take my time doing this, because I really have no desire to look up and see Bridget or Simon, who were kind enough to have us here, feel uncomfortable because Dr. Stewart has a problem with his dick.
Or that they may both see it written all over your face that you, too, have a problem… hoe.
“Do you mind going to find the ladies’ room with me?” Tonya asks as she stands up.
“Sure.” I look up and smile at Bridget then turn to Simon and see him looking across the dining room. I assume it’s toward him.
“Mind if I come along?” Bridget asks.
“Of course.”
As she stands, I turn and look at Tonya.
“You’re talking to yourself again, aren’t you?” she asks.
“No,” I lie.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I mean, I needed to get laid. It was me who came on to him, remember?”
I feel a hand on