Page 116 of Forever, Maybe
“Mate,” she said, her voice low and biting. “I’m not the one who screwed around. Don’t take your shitty temper out on me.”
She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Living with a cheating rat wasn’t exactly a picnic, you know. I could always tell. The way he came home reeking of booze and—” she paused for effect, her lips curling into a sneer—“other women’s pussies.”
Daniel stiffened, his shoulders locking tight, but she wasn’t done.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, her tone mocking. “Is that too crude for you?”
She smirked, as if daring him to respond, while he stood frozen, caught between fury and something close to pity.
But she was right. The state he was in wasn’t her fault.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Er, can I buy you a drink?”
Probably not his smartest idea. She already looked like she’d had her more than her fair share for the night. Still, when she nodded and gestured away from the karaoke bar, toward the more subdued Drum and Monkey at the St Vincent and Renfield Street junction, he found himself agreeing.
“What happened then?”
He knew what she meant—him and Nell. The question cracked something open. Weeks of frustration and hurt surged up, and for once, he didn’t stop himself from answering.
“I’ve left her.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “She didn’t deserve you.”
Unfair, but he couldn’t summon the energy to defend Nell. Not tonight.
“But,” Jennifer added, her voice softening, “if you’ve been with someone for a long time, it must be hard.”
“D’you mind if we don’t talk about it? Please?”
She nodded quickly. “Aye, okay. We’ll just talk about your business and my job. Nice, safe topics.”
They reached the Drum and Monkey, a Victorian building that had once been a bank catering to Glasgow’s merchants—the kind who’d built their fortunes on tobacco, cotton and slavery back in the 18th and 19th centuries. Over the thick wooden front door, stone-carved women gazed down, their togas artfully slipping off one shoulder, revealing flashes of stone cleavage. Nell had always mocked that.God, the Victorians!she’d laugh.So prim and proper, but every statue’s got to flash a tit.
Daniel hadn’t been inside the pub in years. Black marble columns rose to meet an ornate, corniced ceiling, while a dark, wooden-panelled bar ran along one side. The lighting cast everything in a warm amber glow. A group of young men near the bar erupted into laughter, cheering as one of them downed a pint in one go.
He guided Jennifer to a quieter table tucked away in what had once been a banker’s office. Red velvet curtains separated it from the rest of the pub.
“What’ll you have?” he asked.
“A glass of white,” she said, then added, “Actually, make it a spritzer.”
He ordered her drink along with a Budweiser for himself.
The rowdy stag party had shifted gears into a raucous sing-along—a rugby song about bestiality that got louder with every verse. Before long, the bar’s suited security staff were wading through the crowd, escorting the group to the door amid protests and jeers.
Jennifer nodded towards them as Daniel returned with the drinks. “Think they’ll be banned for life, or just until tomorrow?”
“Depends if they managed to offend anyone important,” he replied, handing her the glass.
Jennifer had slipped off her caramel trench coat, revealing a dark red dress that sloped off her lightly bronzed shoulders. It was the kind of outfit designed for temptation—the neckline soft and pliable, the fabric clinging just enough. When she took a small sip of her spritzer, the neckline shifted, rippling slightly. Like Stephanie a few nights ago, she’d skipped the bra.
Daniel forced his gaze upward, tearing his eyes away. “How’s Daisy?”
She gave him a knowing look, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. She knew exactly what he’d noticed—and how it made him feel. “Still fat.”
“Were you out somewhere earlier?” he asked.
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. It fell back into perfect spirals, like it had never been touched. “Colleague’s engagement party. Lassie from the digital team. She’s twenty-two and marrying her fiancé next year. Twenty-two. Imagine getting hitched that young—” She stopped abruptly, her cheeks darkening. “Shit. Sorry. That was tactless.”
