Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
8
STERLING
Thursday night, I head upstairs to the rooftop bar of the nightclub where Camryn suggested we meet. I’ve arrived early, wanting to get a table so I’m ready when she arrives.
It’s not a place I frequent regularly, but I’ve been here once or twice over the years. Its clientele is mostly single twenty-somethings looking to cut loose after a day at work. It’s known for its happy hour specials and large appetizer menu.
A sleek long stainless-steel bar top runs the length of one wall, bar stools lining it. Instead, I choose one of the high-top tables that sit under strands of white lights. The evening sky has turned dark, and the night air is cool but not yet cold.
This week dragged by at a snail’s pace. Between work and seeing the inside of a courtroom more times than I would like, I’m tired and on edge. It didn’t help that my uncle called almost daily inquiring about updates, and hopeful women still flocked, following me wherever I go.
But then I see Camryn heading up the stairs, and my sour mood drifts away. Strange how she has the ability to do that without saying a single word. My heart beats faster as I rise from the high-top table and raise my hand in a wave. She spots me and smiles, a wide grin that reaches her eyes, before catching herself and fixing her mouth into a line again. But I saw it, her raw and honest reaction to me.
“Hi, Sterling,” she says while I pull out her chair.
“Hello, love. You look lovely this evening.”
Her light floral scent drifts up to tease me while I help her into the seat. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and she’s dressed in jeans and a black top cut low enough to let me catch a glimpse of the swell of tempting cleavage.
The waitress swings by our table, and Camryn orders a fizzy champagne cocktail while I request a gin and tonic.
We make small talk by discussing our work weeks, and Noah and Olivia, and then it grows silent for a minute.
“So I know we know each other, but tell me more about you,” she says.
“What do you want to know?”
“Let’s see. You’re British. You like drinking tea. Before he got hitched, you and Noah wreaked havoc on ovaries around the city.”
“True, true, and hell yeah.”
She rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “So you say you’re ready to get married, but have you ever even had a long-term relationship?”
“I have,” I say. But that’s a story for another time.
Camryn doesn’t press me; she just takes another sip of her cocktail.
“Do you want kids someday?” she asks.
I rub the back of my neck. With kids comes a total life change. And until now, my life has been all about me. Pursuing my career and the self-interests that bring me pleasure. Though I suppose when I get married, that will have to change too.
“Not sure. You?”
She smiles. “I do, actually. I’d like at least one. A little mini-me, someone to be my best friend.” She waves a dismissive hand. “That’s probably stupid.”
I lean forward. “It’s not.” I can picture Camryn as a mother. She’d be one of those effortlessly cool mums. Not one of those with a gigantic diaper bag, mom jeans, and a permanent look of worry etched into her features. She’d make it fun. I have no doubt about that.
“I don’t have any siblings,” she continues. “So I guess I like the idea of building my own squad.” She giggles, and I wonder if the champagne cocktail she finished has gone to her head.
I signal the waitress, ordering another for her.
“That’s something you and I have in common. Only child,” I say, motioning to myself.
She meets my eyes, studying me carefully.
The idea of family is something I hold dear, and there’s something inside me that warms at hearing her say she wants to build a family. When my own happy family was split apart, I pretty much gave up all interest in the idea, but I’m starting to realize that with the right person by your side, anything is possible.
Camryn’s gaze drifts to the dance floor, which on a weeknight isn’t being used, but a group of girls in short cocktail dresses linger near the edge. I’ve paid them no mind, but it’s been hard to ignore the fact that they keep looking in our direction.
“They’re wondering what a man like you is doing with a girl like me,” Camryn says, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
“What do you mean by that?” If she’s going to put herself down, I’ll have something to say about that.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m not bothered by it. You’re attractive, and they’re interested. Simple as that.” She grabs her fresh drink, slowly draining it all, and I get the sense that she’s embarrassed.
I rise to my feet. “Come on.”