They both kiss me on the cheek and stand beside me and their son.
“How’s she doing?” Frances asks as she watches Will on the field.
“Great.” I smile.
Julian’s eyes flicker over to me, silently accusing me of being a liar.
“Julian?” We hear another woman call out, and we all turn to see that stupid Rebecca.
“Hello.” He fakes a smile.
“Have you been hiding from me?” She laughs, putting her hand on his chest.
He chuckles uncomfortably.
I roll my eyes in complete disgust.
She flirts and laughs with him for ten minutes, making everyone cringe until I can’t take it anymore. “I’m going to check on Sammy,” I say.
I check on Sammy, and then I strategically go and stand on the other side of the field.
I can’t listen to that woman flirt with him for one moment longer.
Frances comes and stands beside me. “Good Lord, Brell, don’t leave me with that stupid woman.”
I roll my eyes. “I know, you need a bucket to listen to them fawn over him.”
She pulls a face and fakes a shiver. “Julian has this knack of attracting the worst women.”
“He likes it,” I reply, deadpan.
“Would you and Julian like to come over tonight… for dinner?” she asks hopefully. “I would love to repay the favour.”
Damn it, she’s being nice. “I can’t, I’m so sorry. I have plans.”
Her face falls. She thinks for a moment. “Do you have a date?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going out with my friend, Emerson.”
“Oh.” She fakes a smile and links her arm through mine. “How lovely.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” I sigh.
She taps my arm. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Julian and his father walk around the field to stand with us.
“Mother, would it be alright if you took the children back to your house this afternoon? I would like to have a meeting with Miss Brielle in private.”
Her eyes widen in excitement. “Yes, great idea. Take Brell out for lunch for a meeting.” She taps my arm. “And if you can talk her out of cancelling her date tonight, I can have the children so you can take her dancing.”
Why, that old snake…
Julian’s face falls. “You have a date tonight?” he asks, horrified.
“Yes.” I hesitate because I’m the worst liar in the world. “I do.”
“Who with?” he snaps.
“A doctor,” Frances replies as she squeezes my arm.
I frown at her. What are you doing, you senile, old woman?
“What doctor?”
His father smirks as he pretends to watch the game.
“None of your business,” I tell him. “Why don’t you go and ask one of the desperate, dateless soccer mums to go dancing.” I pretend to watch the game. “Or Strawberry Shortcake. She’s always up for a good time.”
He narrows his eyes, knowing exactly who I mean.
“Who’s Strawberry Shortcake?” his mother whispers under her breath.
“Julian’s rude work friend.”
“She’s not rude. It was a business meeting,” he defends.
“She’s more than just the nanny,” I offer sarcastically.
Julian fakes a smile.
“I’m lost,” his mother whispers, thinking only I can hear. “Who’s stupid?”
“He is,” I reply.
His father smiles at the field, entertained by our conversation.
“Oh, because putting the jerseys in the dryer is so intelligent.” Julian sneers.
I glare at him and squeeze his mother’s arm. “I’m sorry, but in Australia, we can put our jerseys in the dryer. I’m not used to these United Kingdom inferior products… or men.”
His father chuckles again as he looks at his phone. “Oh, I see. Strawberry Shortcake is a doll from the eighties with red hair.” He holds the phone out to show us.
Julian rolls his eyes, and I bite my lip to hide my smile. Has his father really being Googling Strawberry Shortcake all this time?
“Julian?” A woman calls from the other side of the field. We look over and see a woman smiling and waving in an exaggerated manner.
He fakes a smile and waves back.
“Good grief.” His mother sighs. “These women are unbearable.”
“They’re a perfect match for him,” I mutter as I watch the game. “Julian, go over and stand with her so she doesn’t come over here talking, please.”
Julian’s mother giggles and taps my arm that’s still in hers. “Oh, I really like you, Brell.” She glances at Julian. “Are you sure you two can’t go dancing tonight?”
“Positive,” we both say at the same time.
I need to get out of this conversation. “I’m going to get a coffee. Anyone want one?” I ask.
“Yes, please,” Julian and his father both say.
“I’ll come with you, dear.” His mother smiles, keeping her hand tightly linked through mine as we walk across the fields.
“Who’s Strawberry Shortcake?” she whispers.
I roll my eyes. “You’re very nosey.”
“This is true. Go on.”
“You can’t tell him I told you.”
She crosses her fingers over her chest. “God’s honour.”
“I went out with Julian last night as a friend.” Her eyes widen in excitement. “You did?”
“Don’t get excited. It was a disaster.”
“Why?”
“He ignored me for two hours and spoke to a hot redhead from his work.” Her eyes narrow. “Strawberry Shortcake?”
I nod.
“I always hated that doll,” she mutters.
“Anyway, I left, we had a fight, and then he went back out and didn’t come home all night.”
“Well, he was at my house.”
“What?” I frown.
“He came back to my house to get the kids and ended up falling asleep on the sofa, so he decided to stay the night.”
“Oh.”
She frowns. “You didn’t think…”
I shrug.
“No, Brelly.” She taps my arm and pulls me closer. “He was with us.”
I shake my head in disgust. “It doesn’t matter. We’re just friends, so…” I shrug. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” She frowns. “That can’t be it.”
I look at her deadpan. “That’s totally it.”
“Talk to him this afternoon. Maybe you can go out and work it out tonight.”
I pull from her grip. “I’m not working it out with him. He’s weird, he’s a weird person…” I hesitate, because that sounded so rude. “No offence, he’s a lovely man, but-”
“None taken. He is weird.” She laughs. “And this is exactly why I like you. You are so refreshingly honest. Julian needs someone like you in his life.”
I pat her arm and link it back through mine. “I don’t like Julian. He’s not the man for me.” I sigh. “But do you want to have coffee and cake on Tuesday?”
She smiles broadly. “I’d love to.”
The drive back to Julian’s house is made in complete silence. The children have gone back to his mother’s so we can talk about last night.
Too bad for him, I’ve got nothing to talk about. I’m going inside, I’m packing my things, and I’m going to Emerson’s for the weekend. I don’t even care if she’s not home and I have to sit out on the curb waiting for her. Anything is better than being with Julian right now.
I’m still so mad that it’s not even funny. He parks the car and I get out, marching up to the house.
“Can we talk, please?” he asks.
“I have nothing to talk about, Julian,” I call over my shoulder.
“I do.”
“Call somebody then, because I’m not talking.”
I walk through the house, into my room, and I take out my overnight bag.
What shall I wear out tonight? Hmm, something insanely hot. I begin to go through my wardrobe and lay things out on the bed. I take out some cute black, lacy underwear and lay it on top of a black dress.
He walks into my room.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Packing my stuff.”
His eyes roam over the underwear on the bed. “You have a date tonight?”
“Yes.” I continue looking through my drawers.
“Where did you meet him?”
“None of your business. Get out.”
He exhales heavily. “Can we talk about last night, please?”
“No.” I bend and begin to look through my shoes in the bottom of my walk in wardrobe.
“I didn’t want anyone to know that we were together.”
I throw my high heels onto the bed with force. “We’re not together.”
“She’s just a girl that I work with,” he adds.
“I don’t care who she is. This isn’t about her.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “What is it about then?”
My eyes rise up to him. “You can’t be that fucking stupid.”
“Try me.”
“This is about you and your inability to communicate.”
“I communicate,” he hits back, outraged. “I communicate very well.”
“You have no idea how to communicate with anybody, not even your children.”
“That is not true.”
“Okay then, smartass. You found out what that girl said to Willow last week about her mother at the soccer game. Did you bring it up and talk to her?”
He frowns. “I don’t want to upset her.”
“Ignoring her is upsetting her!” I yell. “Tell me. Tell me the last time you talked about anything with either of your children that was about them.” “What? I talk to them every day. What are you on about?”
“You talk to them about what’s on television, world events, what they are eating, homework, school related things. You have trivial conversations, nothing more, nothing less.”