Page 10 of Single Daddy Scot
‘Because you waited. Because you’re older. And more confident.’
I snort. She really doesn’t know what goes on under this skin. I’m still the same awkward person I was at uni.Before I dropped out during my last year.The same wallflower trying to find her inner wild girl. To cut free. Be loose. Be someone other than, well, me.
‘You really don’t see yourself like others do.’ I look up and find my friend watching me contemplatively. ‘There’s modesty, Ella, and then there’s just plain ridiculousness.’
‘Stop talking about it. You’re making me feel icky.’
‘People who aren’t brave don’t move to a new country all by themselves.’
‘I came back, didn’t I?’
‘Yes! That reminds me, you were supposed to stay at least through the summer so I could visit during my holiday,’ she reprimands. ‘But it’s not your coming back that worries me. It’s your next plan.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I answer blithely. I’m not going to mention the very particular dance class I’ve enrolled in. An art form to push me from my comfort zone. I doubt she’d understand. She’d probably think me silly and my plan as nothing but high jinx. You see, Jules is very much at home in her own skin. This translates into her attraction to the opposite sex. In other words, she’s not a twenty-three-year-old virgin.
‘But speaking of plans, I am going back to uni in September.’
‘Really? That’s fab! Oh, I’m so pleased for you. Are you going to finish your degree?’
‘Nope. I’m starting again.’ So I mayalmosthave a degree in finance, except I left during my final year.
‘I’m not surprised,’ she answers. ‘But I’m pleased you’re finally doing whatyouwant.’
‘I’ll probably be the oldest first year there,’ I say, self-consciously pulling my pyjama top from where it clings to my chest.
‘Twenty-three isn’t old.’
‘It’s a bit old to be starting again.’ Starting again, again. ‘And I’ll be getting into a massive amount of debt for a degree that probably won’t pay very well. The streets aren’t paved with gold for early childhood education graduates.’
‘That sounds like something your dad would say.’
‘Yeah, but he’s right.’
‘But you love kids, and you’re so good with them!’
‘Still, I suppose a teacher’s wage is better than that of an au pair.’ Which is pretty much all I’ve done since leaving uni, living in other people’s homes. Mostly in London, but also France for a while, and always feeling like the hired help.
‘And your dad won’t help?’
‘Nope.’ I pop thep.My dad is a very wealthy man. He’s kind but very exacting. And though I’m welcome to move home, we both know how his current wife feels about this. I really don’t want to have to deal with her and my stepsiblings.Valentina, Versace, and Chanel. Yes, really.And I don’t want to be anywhere near them when Dad invokes the prenup on wife number three. Call it more than an educated guessthat things are heading this way. I’m not built for drama, so I’d prefer to stay well away.
‘He said he’d pay if I go back to finish my degree or study something sensible like business or economics. He doesn’t see a future in teaching.’
‘A bit of an oxymoron,’ she says with a shake of her head.
‘I think that’s his middle name. But I’m welcome to go home to live, apparently.’
‘Which isn’t viable.’
‘Not really.’
‘Well, it’s not perfect, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.’
‘Thank you, but I won’t impose more than a week or two, tops. Girl Guides honour,’ I say, holding up my fingers in a Girl Guides salute. ‘My plans are to get a job, get somewhere cheap and grotty to live, try my best not to return home, and save like mad between now and September.’
‘If nothing else, that calls for a toast.’
‘To new beginnings,’ I say, touching my glass with hers.
‘And may your next family have a father with a hot bod, not a dad bod.’
‘That’s not strictly necessary,’ I reply, laughing. ‘I’d rather have a family that’s nice.’
‘Nice with something to look at,’ she says, clinking her glass against mine again. ‘Annnd, may the next man you bed screw you really fucking well.’
‘I can drink to that,’ I say, and I do.
