“Never mind,” she says quickly, fixing her eyes back on me. She’s like mother hen with teeth in that beak. “I’m watching you,” she says to me.

I raise my arms out to the side. “Watch all you want, babe, I’m used to it.”

Nicola gives out a small sigh of resignation. “It’s fine. Bram, you can come in. Just be quiet, Ava’s sleeping.”

Victory. I step inside and take a quick intake of my surroundings. It looks like some trendy grandmother’s cottage in here. The type who puts ruffles and doilies on everything but also listens to the Rolling Stones on vinyl to remember the days when she’d get so bloody high.

Nicola walks over to her tiny kitchen, which is cluttered with bright cups and plates. “Want coffee? Or tea?”

Do I admit I drink tea over coffee? Hell. “I’d love a cup of tea, please. Do you have orange pekoe or Earl gray? With cream?”

I can’t see her face but I know she’s not looking too impressed. “I have chai.”

“That’s fine,” I say, aware that Stephanie is staring at me. “What?” I say to her.

She just narrows her eyes, points her finger at me as if she’s about to say something, then picks up her purse. “Okay, Nic,” she calls to her. “I’m going to go. Call me later, okay? Please?” Now I’m not sure if that please is because of Ava’s situation or the fact that I’m here.

“I will,” Nicola says. “Thanks for everything.”

“Love ya!” And then Steph is out the door and I’m alone with Nicola.

It’s suddenly very awkward. While the kettle is boiling, I sit down on her sofa. It’s like sinking into a marshmallow. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get up.

She’s not talking, so I attempt to fill in the gaps.

“Nice apartment,” I comment.

“Thanks,” she says, still puttering around in the kitchen.

“Did you inherit all your furniture from your grandmum or something?”

She shoots me a killer look over her shoulder. “It’s from Anthropologie.”

I shrug and run my hands over the couch cushions. I can feel all the rough threads where she tried to sew together any rips and tears. I don’t think she’s hanging onto it out of love, but out of necessity.

“How’s your little one?” I ask.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Her voice turns quiet. “I think I’m having a harder time than she is.”

I hear her pour the water and the clank of a spoon against porcelain and she comes over, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of me, making sure to use a coaster. It’s black.

“Sorry,” she says, cradling her own cup of tea and sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, legs curled up, as far away from me as possible. “I don’t have any milk in the house. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Though she’s curled in the corner, she doesn’t look all that comfortable. Her head is up high, chin out and her mouth is set in a firm line. I can’t read her eyes at all, so I stop trying.

“Did you get the medicine okay?” I ask.

She nods and takes a sip. “Thanks to Steph’s insistence on paying, yes. The doctor at the hospital gave me a month’s supply of insulin, but Steph paid for everything else. The pharmacist at Target gave us both a crash course on injecting Ava again, so I don’t have to go and pay for my doctor either.” She exhales heavily. “I really needed that reminder. Last night just seemed like a horrible nightmare.” She looks at me and maybe I see her face softening. “Thanks again for driving me around. I kind of ruined everyone’s night.”

“Shit happens,” I tell her with a wave of my hand. “It’s no big deal.”

“I bet your girlfriend was upset.”

“Aye,” I nod. “But she’s not my girlfriend. Especially not now.” I don’t say anything else.

“So, what did you want me to talk to you about?” she says, sounding tired. I realize talking to me is probably the last thing she wants to do.

“You look like you need a nap,” I tell her. Her eyes look sad and I realize it’s a jerk thing for me to say. No one wants to hear they look tired. “I mean, you’re still pretty hot but you look tired as hell.” And now I’m just making it worse.

“I don’t dare sleep,” she says. She seems to shrink down before my eyes. “Not now, not when something can happen to her.”

“You could,” I say. “Right now. Just have a nap. I’ll stay here. I’ll be up, make sure that everything’s okay.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I have no idea why I just volunteered to do that – maybe because it’s the right thing to do – but it makes me sound like the world’s biggest creeper.

“No thanks,” she says, looking a wee bit disgusted. “So.” She sounds impatient now. “What is it that you want from me, Bram?”

I lean forward on my elbows and twirl the watch on my wrist over and over again.

“I have a proposition for you.”

She watches me for so long I have to look up. She doesn’t look curious, she looks worried.

“Is this going to be like ‘Indecent Proposal?’” she asks. “Because Robert Redford loses at the end.”

“A) I’m surprised you’re old enough to remember that movie,” I say. “And B) no, it’s nothing like that. I know my reputation precedes me –”

“That is does.” She takes a quick sip of her tea.

“But, this offer is coming from a good place. An honest place.” I pause. “I think you should move in with me.”

She nearly drops her mug.

CHAPTER FIVE

Nicola

For my first week of age twenty-nine and second week of being a small business owner, I wonder if I’ve ruined one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

No, not me and James, even though he would be the cause. Did I just hear him right? My hand starts to shake and I put the mug of hot tea down before I scald myself.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask Bram, bewildered. “Did you just ask me to move in with you?”

He gives me a placating smile. “Not exactly. What I mean is, the apartment next to mine is vacant. The tenant moved out at the start of the month. I think you should take it. You can live there rent free, just until you get a good job and your feet back on the ground. What do you say?”

What do I say? I have no fucking idea. Why on earth would Bram McGregor offer me a place to live for free? It doesn’t make any damn sense and I don’t want any part of it.

“You can think about it…” he goes on.

“No,” I say and he looks shocked. “Sorry, but…no. Move into your empty apartment? Why? Why would you do that? Why not rent it out for thousands of dollars a month, which is what I’m sure the rent is.”

“But I don’t want the rent to be that high,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter what you want,” I tell him. “You have a mortgage on that place and I know it costs a pretty penny.” And it doesn’t really jive with everything I’ve known about Bram. He’s grown up with money. He spends it like a gambler who thinks he has nothing to lose. Everything about Bram screams, “I’m here to make money and spend money!” Letting Ava and I live in his complex for free would completely mess up those plans.

It doesn’t make any sense and I sure as hell don’t like it.

“You let me worry about matters of money,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. I notice his perpetual tan, his skin a nice honey bronze that I don’t think is fake and makes me wonder where on earth he’s gotten color like that. His forearms are large, muscular and toned. Forearms are my weakness. As are hands. He’s got good hands too, big and strong.

He catches me staring and smiles, just a little. “Please, this isn’t anything weird.”

“Like hell it isn’t.” I scoff, tearing my eyes away. “This is an insanely generous offer and I have a hard time believing you aren’t coming from a despicable place.”

He flinches. “Wow. Just how poorly do you think of me?”