Liam had tried to convince me, but it only ended up in us arguing. Even Phoebe would try to persuade me by showing me hot men carrying babies. I protected myself when I had sex, I even researched tying my tubes. It wasn’t a phase and unlike other women, I welcomed my periods each month.
I wasn’t lying when I told Wesley I was getting them. I could have easily skipped the white pills and avoid them, but didn’t want to risk anything. My cramps were a dead giveaway that I would get them in the next two days and totally explained my mood.
“What do you say to you and me going out tonight? Have some fun, just us girls?”
“Sounds like fun.” I grin, happily. “In fact, I would love to. I think that’s just what I need…a girls’ night out.”
Aurora had rescued me from an almost fashion disaster. I didn’t expect to go out to some fancy club, bringing mainly work attire and a pair of jeans in case. It was late, and after today’s dramas, I could have easily gone to bed and called it a night almost regretting my earlier enthusiasm.
Emerson was raring to go, clearing it with Logan and ensuring we had two bodyguards on top. She planned for us to go to a low-key club that played Spanish music in a quieter part of the city. An older crowd frequented, though the tapas and sangria were apparently to die for.
Emerson looked gorgeous wearing a long-sleeved black dress and strappy heels that came almost to her knee. She complained about her hair being in terrible condition, asking Aurora to style it into a side wave.
I couldn’t fault Aurora on the dress she found for me. Ivory lace that sat on the tops of my shoulders, though slightly shorter than I normally wore; the hemline stopping mid-thigh. Aurora was vocal in telling me how much she loved my hair, styling it into waves that fell down my back.
“Argh…I love your hair so much. I really should stop cutting mine,” Emerson complains.
“I’ve always worn it long. Mom has long hair too. It’s just been our thing.”
“You never speak much about your mom, or back home for that matter.”
I smile. “How about we get to the club. A few drinks and I’m happy to talk about me.”
We got there a little after nine and still managed to get a table. It was in a great position, right in front of the dancefloor. The lighting was dim, creating a somber mood and exactly what Emerson wanted. No one in the club seemed to have recognized her and she told me it was nice to relax unnoticed.
We ate, delicious tapas and a seafood paella that was amazing. The dancers showed us their moves, while we laughed, drank sangria and enjoyed ourselves.
“We should find you a man,” Emerson giggles on her second sangria. “A man that can move his hips like that is bound to be good in the bedroom.”
“I can find my own man, thank you very much,” I laugh, my head spinning slightly from the sweet booze. “Besides, I don’t think there is anyone here under the age of fifty.”
Emerson sways to the music, glass in hand. “What’s wrong with a mature aged man? Maturity means experience. They know how to please a woman.”
I laugh. “Logan would kill you for saying that. Isn’t he your age?”
She dismisses my comment, finishing her drink and eating the fruit at the bottom of the glass.
“Yeah…I’ve always been with guys my age. But older men…something mysterious. Now, c’mon…how about that guy over there?”
I glance over, and see an older gentleman with silver-colored hair and he’s wearing a kravat.
“He’s old enough to be my grandpa.”
“What? No he isn’t. Maybe just one dance. Look at him.” We both turn, making it obvious that we were staring at him. “That hip replacement must really be working out for him.”
We laugh, loosely and almost in tears, feeding off our relaxed state from the sangria.
“I need a man that gets me. You know, someone that just makes me crazy in the bedroom and is wild. But also loves me and understands what I want,” I moan.
Emerson nods her head, pointing her stick at me and almost stabbing my face.
“I can find you a man like that. You’re beautiful, like seriously. I must have someone I know that would be your perfect match.”
“I like this guy,” I admit, followed by a loud hiccup. “But that’s it.”
“Do you have a dick pic?”
“Emerson!” I yell, throwing a peanut at her face. “I don’t, but even if I did, I wouldn’t show you.”