“I never lose bets,” he says smoothly as he stands behind me. I quickly look over my shoulder and catch him checking out my ass.

“Get a good look?” I straighten up and turn around.

“Of your arse?” he asks, sticking his hands into his pockets in a boyish gesture. “Yes. But only because I know it bugs you so much. You know, anything that’s remotely sexual.”

My eyes widen and I look down at Ava. She’s completely oblivious and I carefully shut the door. “Look,” I quickly say, pointing at him. “You may think you know me from our little…meeting, but you don’t.”

He reaches out and grasps my finger in his hand. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft, but then again, even though he may have the body for it, I’m sure Bram didn’t get his money from chopping trees all day or doing hard labor.

“Hey,” he says, voice gruff, still holding onto my finger. “I know we don’t really know each other and when we last, erm, talked, well, I may have been a few sheets to the wind. But how about we start again? I’m Bram McGregor.”

He turns my hand over so that he’s now holding it in a handshake. I’m not sure I can do this as easily as he can, but I find myself saying, “Okay. I’m Nicola. Price.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Nicola Price. Can I give you a ride?”

I nod. “That would be nice.” I know my voice sounds stiff, but I guess it’s a start. The problem with my pride, though, is that it rarely lets me forget when it’s been burned.

Luckily Bram is completely genial during the drive to Linden’s apartment in Nob Hill. He spends most of it talking to Ava in the rearview mirror, asking her questions and treating her like she’s an adult. I can tell Ava adores it and by the time we’re close to Steph and Linden’s, she’s all googly-eyed over him. This is not good. Can’t she be like her mom and be suspicious of the men who smile too brightly and say all the right things?

Though I guess with Bram, he has a habit of saying all the wrong things.

“So, Nicola,” he says slowly as we wind through traffic. “You know, I don’t know much about you. Linden says you work in fashion like Stephanie.”

I did, I think bitterly but I manage to say, “Uh-huh.”

“So what’s your job?”

“What’s your job?” I ask, deflecting it back to him. Besides, I’m curious. In the past, Linden only described Bram as a playboy (or “bloody manwhore” I believe were his exact words) who didn’t do much but party it up in New York City. He moved to San Francisco a year ago, I guess to be close to Linden who had a frightful helicopter crash at the time, but I don’t know what he really does except flash those perfect teeth at people.

“I’m an apartment manager,” he says and when he sees the disbelieving look in my eyes, he goes on. “I’m serious. Well, to be more correct, I own an apartment complex in SOMA. Folsom and twelfth beside a Thai restaurant.”

He’s looking at me like I’ll know, like most newbies to the Bay Area do, like we know every Thai restaurant in town and every person called Dan.

“That couldn’t be cheap,” I say, looking back out the window as we crawl past the cars. There are so many gorgeous buildings in this city, places to die for, and over and over again I can’t help but wonder who can afford to live here. I once met an Uber driver who used to drive trucks across the country, who grew up in the city. He said back then, San Francisco was full of children. Now, you rarely see them. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for Ava. and for me, to just move to a small town where she can have a different kind of life. Then I think about my dreams for my future, my career, and wonder if it’s okay for me to give up on them. I know it’s selfish of me not to, but I still can’t quite let go.

“Nothing in life is cheap,” Bram says but I barely hear him. I have to bring myself back into the moment and stop my head and my worries from running away on me. I came out tonight to put those on the backburner. God knows I’ll have more than enough time to worry after this.

“Am I boring you?” he asks and I turn my head to look at him.

“No. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

My brows lift up. “I don’t think we’re at that ‘let’s tell each other what we’re thinking’ stage.”

“Not yet.”

Not ever, I think. But I don’t want to answer any more questions about myself, so I ask him to tell me more about the apartment and I force myself to listen. The more he talks about it, though, the more I see this is something he’s actually stressing a bit over. I mean, it’s hard to tell if Bram is stressed or not because he always has that charmer expression on his face like he’s always trying to get in someone’s pants, male or female. But there’s a harder glint to his eyes when he talks about the rent of the building and how much he has to charge in order to make his mortgage.

“So why did you buy it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I needed to do something.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Rent is phenomenal in the city even in SOMA. Everyone predicted it would be the next place to become the it place. Hell, I bet the Tenderloin will turn that way soon too. Hanging with crack addicts will become the cool thing to do and hipsters will take over the street corners. And my rent will go up once again.” He shoots me a quick glance at the hardness that crept up in my voice. I try to sound breezier. “Anyway, I’m sure you bought at the right time.”

“Maybe,” he says, running his long fingers over his dark stubble. He’s got a very manly-looking chin, but I quickly chide myself for noticing. “But when I bought the place, I was hoping to…well, doesn’t matter does it? What’s done is done.”

And luckily before he has any chance to ask me about my non-existent job, we pull up in front of Steph and Linden’s building. Just as I’m lifting Ava out of the car, the doors open and Steph comes out, wobbling a bit in her strappy heels and carrying two glasses of wine.

Married life looks good on her. She’s gained some weight, but it’s all gone to her boobs, so that’s not really fair. Her hair is dyed mermaid blue (or baby blue, to be more specific) and she always looks happy and flushed like she’s just had some good sex. It’s a wonder I don’t hate her.

“Nic!” she yelps and comes speed-walking over as fast as she can without spilling the wine. She hands me a glass of red and says, “Here, drink this. We’ve got you.” She looks me deep in the eyes and I feel momentarily calmed.

And that’s why I could never hate her. She’s pretty much the best friend a girl could have.

She glances over at Bram and gives him a quick smile before beaming down at Ava.

“Ava, you look like a princess!”

“I am a princess,” she says. “You’re just a mermaid.”

Steph lifts her head in mock supremacy. “No one is just a mermaid.”

Ava seems to consider that for a moment then eyes the glass of wine in my hand. “Can I have some? I’m thirsty.”

“You’re always thirsty,” I tell her. “This is mommy’s adult drink. I’ll get you some juice when we’re inside, okay?”

She nods and licks her lips. She’s always been a thirsty child, but seems so even more lately. That and she gets just about as hungry as I do when I haven’t eaten. I don’t know where she puts all the food either. She definitely didn’t inherit her mom’s curvy calves and thighs. She’s all chicken legs and twig arms, something my doctor said is totally normal for a girl her age.

I turn, about to thank Bram for the ride. After all, he didn’t have to come get me, but he’s back in his car and driving away, the sleek façade of the Mercedes disappearing down the hill.

“Where’s he going?” I ask Steph. “My booster seat is still in the back.”

She takes a lengthy sip of wine. “To pick up his girlfriend of the week from her job. He’ll be back.”

“Right,” I say slowly. “Let me guess, supermodel?”