Then he leaves the room and leaves the apartment and I’m swept away into a spiral of beer, shame and regret.

I wish I had the drunken courage to have made him stay.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nicola

“Mommy, are you dead?”

“Almost,” I croak, attempting to open my eyes and roll over at the same time. I fail at both. The room swims and my head feels like it’s full of quicksand. My stomach churns. I don’t want to get up – I fear death by spinning room if I do – but if I don’t, I’m going to puke all over my child.

I can’t believe she’s seeing me like this. I can’t believe I was such an idiot last night.

Memories seep in.

Bram.

Bram.

Bram dragging my drunk ass to sleep.

Bram telling me he only had eyes for me.

Me, who told him I made out with someone else in order to get over him.

Shit.

Now, I’m really going to vomit.

I cover my mouth with my hand, throw back my covers and run into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time. Somewhere in the back of my head, behind all the vile grossness being evacuated from my body, I hope that Bram can’t hear me. The bathrooms seem soundproof so far – thank God – but this is definitely something I wouldn’t want him to hear.

When I’m done and it feels like I have nothing left in my stomach, I flush the toilet a few times and stagger to my feet. The mirror shows me a hot mess. No, not hot – just a mess.

My hair is somehow still in its updo, but it’s completely askew and fuzzy like one giant dreadlock. My fancy eyeliner is halfway up my temple and the red lipstick is a smudge around my mouth and chin. I look like a creepy clown lady.

I look like a terrible mother.

“Are you sickie?” Ava asks. “Do you need the ouchie now too?”

“I’ll be alright, sweetie,” I tell her, quickly brushing my teeth and attempting to melt off my makeup with cream cleanser. I spend a few minutes trying to make everything right in the world but nothing works. I strip my clothes off, take a hot shower and then get into loose boyfriend jeans and a long grey tunic, all comfy. Anything tight today can just fuck right off.

It’s 7:15 am, so luckily I’m not too behind on Ava’s monitoring. I prick her finger and breathe a sigh of relief when I see the numbers in the normal. Then I get set on getting some egg and avocado in her, with a small slice of wholegrain toast, part of her carb counting to keep her levels in check.

As for me, I can’t eat and I can’t fathom drinking coffee, so I sit on the couch and finish a whole carton of orange juice, feeling sorry for myself. And all the while, I wonder if I’ll hear a knock on the door. I wonder if Bram will come over. I wonder if he still likes me – if anything – after being such a drunken fool last night.

Even smart girls can be fools, I hear his words echo in my head. I know it’s not what he meant, but I’m definitely feeling the fool right now.

When lunch time rolls around, I’m only feeling better enough to have a packet of chicken noodle soup, the fluorescent yellow one that comes in the packet and contains no chicken at all. That, plus Bragg’s soy sauce, plus hot sauce, plus a hit of Worcestershire and a side of toast, and you should be feeling right as rain in no time.

Only I’m not. I lament everything I drank, everything I did, and when Bram still doesn’t show, I start annoying Steph and Kayla via group message.

Steph assures me that Bram used to be worse than what I was last night and that was part of his nightly routine. There was no way he could be looking down on me.

Kayla thinks it’s a shame I passed out before I could get some and when I tell her it wasn’t even on the table because I was so drunk, she says that Bram was more of “the man” than she thought.

But neither have any answers and when I finally have a bit of strength, I go over to his apartment. I knock on the door and wait.

No answer. I put my ear to the door and listen but can’t hear anything inside except the faint hum of his fridge.

It’s completely silly to take that as a sign of rejection but somehow I do. I plod back to my apartment and decide to busy myself to take my mind off of things. Because Ava is bored and a light rain has started outside, which is something of a relief in a city that always seems to hold it in, I try and make assembling an IKEA couch sound like an exciting adventure.

She falls for it. She always does. We open the boxes and then get to work. It’s only when I see the two drawn figures in the instructions saying this is a two-person job that I wish again that Bram was home. But still, I do what I can, even the instructions have me completely confused and things would be so much easier with an electric drill.

Eventually I tire out and give up. So does Ava. We retire to my room and the both of us pass out on my bed. She always loves it when I have naptime with her and I can’t remember the last time I treated myself to such a luxury. Sometimes it’s the easiest, most simple things in life that bring you the most joy. The good, pure kind of joy that just makes you feel human and proud of it.

I must have only been asleep for about fifteen minutes when I hear a knock on the door break through the fog. I get up without waking Ava and close the door behind me as I go across the apartment.

Even though I’m tired, my heart is lodged at the top of my chest, ready to pop like champagne. Am I actually giddy from just opening a damn door?

But yes. I am. Bram is in the hallway, his lips pursed in concern.

“How are you doing?” he asks, looking me over. “You look like shit.”

“Always the charmer,” I say dryly, even though my heart is beating fast and I can’t help the smile on my lips.

He shrugs casually. “You told me you liked it when I’m a jerk.”

“I say a lot of things,” I tell him. “That’s the first thing you should know about me.”

“Oh, I already know a lot of things,” he says. “After all, I was here last night going through your photo albums, just like I said I would. Is it strange that I think we would have been boyfriend and girlfriend in high school? I saw you with your hair short and purple, with a Lovage t-shirt. Girl after my own heart.” He looks over my shoulder at the apartment. “So, are you going to let me in or what?”

I step aside and gesture for him. “Come on in. You can see over there the attempt at putting together one of the couches. I’m pretty much an epic fail today. A hangover and no cordless drill make Nicola a dull girl.”

He raises a finger in the air. “Just one moment.” And then he’s turning around and heading out the door into his apartment. I watch his high, firm ass as he goes. He’s dressed in a suit again, which makes me think he’s been doing important things all day.

When he comes back in he’s holding a toolkit.

“Well, aren’t you a handyman,” I tell him, as he opens it and starts taking out tools and placing them on the ground.

“I’m more than just a pretty face, I can tell you that much,” he says with a wink and soon he produces a cordless drill. He revs it a few times and I’m glad I closed the door to the bedroom so Ava can keep on sleeping. Even so, it’s not that loud.

But it’s definitely hot. Bram takes off his grey suit jacket and throws it on the couch, then rolls up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, showing off those gorgeous forearms again and gets to work. If watching Bram jerk off was the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed, then watching him be all take charge and manly man with the tools is the second hottest thing. I guess it says I’m a pretty basic bitch to find that attractive but hell I’ll own up to it.