The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue 2)

“We came to ride the subway,” Bell says.

“Jesus.” Sadie looks wide-eyed from Bell to me, her hand over her heart. “You can’t go around surprising pregnant women, Andrew.”

I roll my eyes. I’ve never heard of anyone pulling the pregnancy card as much as Sadie does. “Bell was feeling antsy at the garage,” I explain. “She wanted to surprise you.”

Sadie glances around the office. “I wish you would’ve called first. Amelia really doesn’t like children in here, and she’s in a particularly bad mood today.”

“She is?” I cinch my eyebrows. “How come?”

Sadie combs her fingers through Bell’s tangled hair. “Jesus, Andrew. Ever heard of a brush?”

“Why’s your boss in a bad mood?” I ask.

“What? Something to do with men, I’m sure.”

I cross my arms and glance toward Amelia’s office again, but I can’t see her. Am I the reason for her mood?

Sadie rakes Bell’s hair into a ponytail. “Thanks for surprising me, honey. Aunt Sadie has a lot of work to do, though.”

While Sadie’s distracted, I take a couple steps back, angling my head until Amelia comes into view. She’s seated at her desk on the phone, her blonde hair pulled back from her face. She isn’t in a flirty, colorful blouse and skirt like when we met but a suit jacket and white button down. As she talks into the receiver, she adjusts black-rimmed glasses I’ve never seen her wear before. All covered up. It’s the bubble-bath-photo bullshit all over again.

“It was Daddy’s idea to come,” Bell says.

I slowly turn back to Bell to pin her with a look, but she’s not even paying attention to me. Little traitor.

“But your dad hates the city.” Sadie glances up. “Why are you here?”

I shake my head, nod at Bell, and mouth, “Liar.”

Sadie cocks her head, then after a moment, her eyes widen. “Oh my . . . shit.”

“What?” I ask.

“Um.” She smooths her expression. “I-I think the baby just kicked.”

“And your first reaction was ‘oh, shit’?”

“No. You’re right. It was probably indigestion.” She looks toward Amelia’s office and back at me. “You, uh, couldn’t have changed clothes?”

I’m in the white t-shirt and jeans I’ve been wearing all day. “What’s wrong with this? Not good enough for the New York City fashionistas?”

“You’ve got grease on your face.”

“And?” I lick my thumb and scrub my cheek. “I work with grease for a living.”

She sighs. “Did you say hi to Mindy?”

“Who?”

She shakes her head and throws up her arms. “Forget it. Jesus. Just forget the whole thing. What’re you guys doing now?”

Bell grins. “Dad promised me more ice cream.”

“More ice cream?” Sadie asks. “How much have you had today?”

Bell giggles. She may not know the word bribery, but she’s smart enough to understand she’s getting away with something. “A popsicle after school.”

Sadie’s computer pings. “Well,” she says, checking an e-mail, “since you’re here, let’s go get dinner. You guys decide what to eat while I try to sweet talk my boss into letting me leave early.”

“Five’s early?” I ask, but she ignores me, which is good because I’ve got a narrow window of time to figure out my next step. This—a few furtive and unreturned glances at Amelia—won’t be enough to satisfy me. In fact, seeing her and not being able to talk to or touch her is making things worse. Admittedly, the buttoned-up librarian look is growing on me. “We can bring food here if you can’t get away,” I say. “Or, I thought, since you had such a great girls’ sleepover a couple weeks ago—”

“It’ll be fine. I can come in early Monday.” She lifts Bell off her lap and stands. “Give me a minute.”

New plan. Go to dinner with Sadie, get her to invite Bell over, and then come back for Amelia. I plop into Sadie’s vacated chair and watch through the window. Amelia puts her call on hold. As she listens to Sadie, she shifts her eyes to me. I wink.

“What’s wrong with your eye, Daddy?” Bell asks.

“Huh?” I look back at her. “Oh. Nothing.”

Sadie comes out of the office and heads back toward us. “Good news. Boss says it’s fine.”

Amelia and I stare at each other. She arches an eyebrow at me, stands, and walks to the doorway. The bottom half of her suit isn’t the pants I expected, but a skirt. It stops just above her knees, showing off the long, slim legs that were wrapped around my waist just last week.

“I invited her,” Sadie says.

My fantasy skids to a halt, and I whip my head back to my sister. “You what?”

She shrugs casually, but her eyes are trained on my face. “I invited Amelia.”

After everything I went through to get here, I should be elated. I hadn’t thought this through. The woman I’m sleeping with and my daughter at the same table? The thought makes my stomach hurt. “What about Bell?”

“We can go somewhere kid friendly. Move.” She waves me away. “I have to shut down my computer.”

I get out of Sadie’s chair. This isn’t what I had in mind. I do want time alone with Amelia—somewhere my daughter isn’t. “Why would you invite her?”

“She needs cheering up.” Sadie packs up her desk, glancing at me from under her lashes. “Her ex ambushed her last week, and she’s been in a weird mood ever since.”

“Her ex?” My body flushes with heat. The ex. Reggie, the cheater, the almost ex-husband—what the fuck is he doing coming around? Here, I’d hoped she’d been thinking of me this week when she’d actually been dealing with him. “When was this?”

Sadie lugs her purse from the ground to the desk. “The night of the awards show.”

“Are you kidding? The one I was at?”

“Yes. Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I say automatically, but my tone, my clenched fists, my racing thoughts prove otherwise. We were together that night, and she never mentioned him. Unless it happened afterward, which would’ve meant he was at the hotel. He was with her in what should’ve been my room. My bathtub. I look back at Amelia, but she isn’t in her office. I search the space around us. She’s gone. “I need to piss.”

“You know where the bathroom is.”

“I need to piss too,” Bell says.

“Bell,” Sadie scolds. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I’ll take you at the restaurant,” I say to her, walking away. “Stay there.”

I head through the office. The receptionist doesn’t even look up from his cell as he coughs and points toward a door by the elevator.

I check over my shoulder to make sure Bell didn’t follow me, then push through into the stairwell.

Amelia’s pacing the small space, a cigarette between her fingers. She looks up quickly. “What are you doing here?”

I ignore her question. “What happened last week? After the awards show?”

“Last week?” Her forehead wrinkles. “Do you really need me to tell you?”

“I mean with Reggie.”

She stops to stare at me. “Oh. Sadie told you?”

“Yeah. I don’t understand. He came to the hotel? Did you . . .?”

“God, no,” she says. “It was before I saw you. He showed up at my apartment when I was leaving for the event.”

I cross my arms, then change my mind and hold my hand out for the cigarette. She gives it to me. Her deep red lipstick has left a mark on the butt. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

She shrugs. “It’s not your problem.”

“I

t feels like my problem,” I say without thinking, but it’s the truth. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

She studies my face a few seconds, her eyebrows drawn. “What do you mean?”

I take a drag, thinking about my answer and deciding I don’t have one that’s as cut and dry as I wish it’d be. “I don’t like the idea of him coming around after the way he hurt you, regardless of whether you and I are together.” I sound like a chick, and I should stop myself, but I can’t. Amelia doesn’t deserve to be dicked around, especially not by him. “What did he want?”

Her expression eases a little. She takes the cigarette back from me and flicks off ash. “Just the same old shit. He’s sorry. He wants me back. He made a mistake.”

I frown. “Like, definitely?” I ask. “He wants you back?”

“I told him to get lost,” she says. “I might’ve been an idiot to fall for him once, but never again.”

Despite what she’s telling me, I’ve seen women all throughout my life choose men who weren’t good for them, my mother included. I’m not sure if my dad has ever cheated on her, but I wouldn’t put it past him. My mom wouldn’t even leave if he did. “You deserve better.”

She shrugs. “I know.”

As we look at each other, the air between us shifts. My irritation over Reggie dissipates as a more pressing need, and the reason I’m here, resurfaces.

I nod at the eyeglasses pushed up on her head. “You wear those often?” I ask.

“These?” She pulls them down onto her face. “Sometimes. For reading.”

“I like them.”

“How much do you like them?”

I glance over my shoulder, as if someone might hear us. “Come here.”

“No. I told you—we’re through.”

“Come . . . here.”

With a soft sigh, she inches toward me. When we’re close enough, she holds the cigarette to my mouth, and I take a drag.

“You were right,” I say. “After how you trusted me, I should’ve held my ground with Bell.”

She twists her lips, thinking. “You haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“I made those promises the other night thinking I’d get to keep them. Now it feels unfinished between us.” I slide her glasses off her face. “Truth is, I wanted to see you again. I’m here for you.”