I don't stop teasing Annabelle about aphrodisiac, even after she puts her maple-mustard chicken thighs and potato wedges on the table. When she first put it on in the whole bowl, it looked so good I didn't even want to touch it.

"That's for lunch?" There's no way she could've done this. It must be a take-out or something, I'm pretty sure I would catch a glimpse of it.

"Yeah, why?" At first, she is honest about the question, then she narrows her eyes at me and presses her lips together "Let me guess, you thought I was gonna give you an aphrodisiac?"

I snort after I realise I've spent the last twenty minutes bugging her about it and probably caused her terrible trauma with it. "No, for real, you cooked this? When? How?"

Gracefully, she sits behind the table after she enslaved me for setting cutlery, plates and glasses "Nathan, one of these days you'll notice oven is a very handy instrument in any kitchen."

"And what makes you think I don't know how to cook?"

She grabs the fork but then puts it down only to give her stare more impact. "You don't even know the equipment you own."

Touche.

Would anyone believe half an hour ago we had a really hardcore quickie? I myself can barely believe it.

Speaking of sex; I should probably go and clean up after us, like disposing of the con-

"Jesus!" Annabelle jumps when I drop the fork and it hits the table, "What's up with you!". Then she notices something in alright and she eyes me carefully "Nathan?"

"The condom."

"What condom?"

"Exactly! What condom!" I cry and Annabelle gets up like she's ready to catch me if I spontaneously collapse in my meltdown.

When she realises why my blood pressure hit a critical point, she smiles - as if that's so fucking funny. "Plan B pill's efficiency lasts up to three days."

Oh...

But-!

"No, Annabelle, this is not okay! I'm thirty but I forget to put on a condom? What's next, cumming prematurely?!"

She tries to keep her face straight but sooner or later she breaks and laughs "The return of Nathan the Diva."

I glare at her, trying to comprehend what's so fucking funny, and calling me a diva does not help. I do so until her laughter dies down, "You done now?"

When her laughter dies down, she tilts her head and looks at me with smile lines around her eyes still present, "You want to be so tough, but you're so sensitive."

I cross my arms and to do that, I even put my cutlery down. Appear tough, no. I keep myself in control, that's the secret ingredient. And I'm not freaking sensitive, I'm not a baby. Obviously, I have feelings, but she puts it like I'm a little bitch. "Okay, first of all, I'm not so sensitive. I'm emotional, yes, which doesn't qualify as so sensitive. Got it?"

She leans back against the chair, mocking me by fakely agreeing with me. Her voice drops down creating the effect of passionate agreement "Oh, yes, I got it. Not sensitive, just sensitive. Understood."

I glare at her again, but this time I grab a knife. I'll use it if I'll have to. "You like being provocative, don't you?"

"Oh, what can one do?" She shrugs playfully while acting innocent. All together is just one huge confession. Before I figure out what to say next that wouldn't make me look like the diva that she thinks I am, she finishes her lunch and carries her plate to the sink.

"Didn't your parents tell you that is extremely rude?" I thought we were eating lunch together, but apparently not so much.

I would understand if she decided not to eat lunch with me to avoid awkward situation, but even that sounds a little peculiar. The lunch she's made is melting in my mouth, I can't see a reason why someone would run away from that.

She rushes to the bedroom without giving me an answer, and she closes herself in.

I stare at the door like a donkey. I don't understand women. Come on, do they understand themselves? Highly doubt it. But even I know this is not normal behaviour.

"I'm in a rush, okay?" She yells from the bedroom, like that wasn't obvious enough two minutes ago.

My heart breaks when I get up from the table and leave warm, tasty lunch rest on the plate, but I do what I gotta do to find out why is she in a rush and why is she having a weird experience of PMS.

I don't know why she closed herself in, and I don't dwell on that thought. To be honest, I really think about that question after she loses her shit.

I walk right in. And what do I see? Annabelle, in her underwear, bending down.

"Why are you in a rush?" I pull off the question without sounding too interested in whatever she's doing. I have theories what she's up to, but sadly, I doubt it that's the actual case.

Covering her breasts and legs with a the cover she pulls from the bed, she turns around and kicks me out of my own bedroom by throwing a hairspray at me "Go out!"

"It's my bedroom!" I yell when outside, but in addition, I feel obligated to remind her it's nothing I haven't seen before. "I've seen you naked before, Annabelle!"

Passive-aggressiely she opens the door just enough to pudh her head out. Her shoulders are bare, and I don't see any other piece of fabric anywhere on her body. "For once, don't be a selfish sex-addicted pervert!"

Sex-addicted?!

Selfish, sure. It's part of being ambitious. Pervert, obviously. Girls don't just fall in ones arms by themselves. Sex-addicted?

"Wait, a second." I almost run the door down, when she's the one to open it.

She looks more shaken up by me standing so close to the door, than me by her opening it at a very convenient time.

I notice she's wearing very light makeup, and it really suits her. Though, the dress. The dress. More specifically, black knee-long off-shoulder dress with a flowery pattern in the shoulder area.

I lift both brows and smirk "And you accuse me of being addicted?"

She lifts up her hair and ties it into a ginger bun, "What?"

"Annabelle, come on. Your outfit is screaming 'I wanna get laid'."

"First, could you possibly be more blunt? And second, I just got laid. Strange how you don't remember it." She puts her index on her chin and looks up, pretending she's thinking really hard about it.

While she's busy being a pantomime, I take another look at her dress. It's nothing special in general, but it does compliment her figure.

"Why else would you put on a dress like that? People don't waste good outfits for- oh, you have a date!"

She rolls her eyes and bends down to put on her black high heels. The next time she looks at me, she's a few inches taller but still not taller than me. "I don't have a date. If I had one, I wouldn't have slept with you."

I don't know if that qualifies as sleeping, but...

"Then why are you improving your looks?" When the words fly out of my mouth, I'm not sure if I regret them or not. They sound way too nice, but... she already knows I find her pretty.

It looks like she doesn't dwell on my wording or tries to rub it in, becauae she keeps herself busy by explaining it "I'm having dinner in a restaurant."

This is definitely a date! And I feel like she used me as her sex toy earlier...

"A dinner in a restaurant? And you dressed up for it? Tell me, how is this not a date?"

"Because I'm taking out my parents. Now, stop interogating me, Sherlock." Annabelle groans, pulling down her dress, even though her thighs are completely covered. Sadly.

If you take your parents out, it can only mean there is some kind of a special occassion, and I don't remember her mentioning anything. Okay, maybe... Maybe, even though she broke up with her ex months ago, she's going to tell her parents the news now. But somehow that's hard to believe. She hasn't mentioned her parents and family a lot, but it's clear she loves them.

"And what's the occassion?" Obviously, I don't care if she asked me to stop with all the questions, which is why I am rewarded with a pointed look. "Excuse me, my memory is slowly failing me. Did you say anything about me stopping?"

Annabelle enhances her pointed look, but eventually it softens, and in the end, there is only a tiny sigh "It's my birthday dinner."

"Your... birthday?" Please, tell me she didn't mention it at all. Otherwise, my memory really is failing me.

"Yeah, right before Memorial Day." She's kneeling down and wiping her shoes until they look like a black edition of Dorothy's magical ones. She understands my silence and smiles "No, I didn't tell you about it. I don't like talking about my birthday in general."

A rock of relief rolls off my chest. It'd be super awkward since I've had sex with her twice already. Forgetting her birthday would be just downright horrible.

"Was the Memorial Day actually a celebration?"

"Oh, no, no, that was just a Memorial Day. My birthday was on 19th May," she smiles and starts fixing her dress next.

I want to ask her how old is she, then it occurs me that I know nothing about her age. My guess would be, she's around the same age as Daniel, maybe a year more so her long-lasting relationship can fit in.

I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?

"If you don't mind, how old are you?"

She gasps and bolts upright after making sure her dress looks impeccable "And you call yourself a gentleman! Asking a lady about her age! How dare you, Nathan!" As I'm about to shit myself, she smiles and laughs lightly "Nah, but I was thirty."

I nearly choke on my own saliva, and if I had a drink, I'd spit it across the room. "Thirty?"

She stops in front of a mirror and adds a blush to her cheeks "Yeah. You surprised?"

"You are a year younger than me?" While she's busy applying her make-up, I check out her figure again, and there is no fucking way she is thirty. Some women who are twenty-five years of age don't look as good as she does.

"In physical sense, yes. In maturity, I'm still thirty and you're nineteen." She shrugs, and she looks at my reflection, "Like right now."

Okay, I was looking at her ass.

"It's all part of the charm," I grinn, and she, by looking at the mirror, secretly smiles back at me.

Sh pauses between her preparations, then like jumping from a trance, she backs up and looks at her entire appearance. "Will it do?" She asks and checks herself out from different angles.

"Yeah. It's not like you're going out on a date, though it looks like you are."

My answer doesn't satisfy her. Her hands rush to her bun again and try to fix it, even though there's nothing wrong with it. "I just want to look my best."

That would be naked then.

I gently tug on her arm and pull her away from the mirror "Annabelle, you look lovely. I doubt you can improve this look even further. Stop worrying about it."

While gazing up at me, she nods nervously "Yeah, you're right. It's just that whenever they see me, the ask me how I'm doing. You know..." She looks down and keeps her fingers busy by entwining them together, "Maybe if I look good they won't ask."

"I think that's exactly why they would ask you. But you got nothing to worry about. Just have fun and don't think about anything else."

Annabelle gives me her bubbly smile and decides she better be on her way.

I see her out after she puts on her light jacket, and watch her go to the elevator. Once in there, she gives me another wave, then the door closes and she is gone. But while she's on her way down the hallway, she looks so high class, even though her dress is nothing special and all she did with her hair was put it into a pun. It's just the way she holds herself up, and she definitely doesn't look like someone who has just been dumped and suffers for a big heartache. On the contrary, she looks like a woman that needs to fight off men, and only those lucky ones get a minute of her attention.

Heh, got it twice!

When I'm about to return to the privacy of my apartment, I see Rob, Molly's husband, gawking at me across the hallway. At first, I think he's gonna leap at me for, I don't know, trying to sleep with Molly or something. He gets paranoid like this. Then I see how his eyes slip towards the elevator and back at me, and I finally understand what that's all about.

I smirk, "Oh, yeah," and disappear behind the door of my apartment, just to let it all sink in.

Once I drop down on the sofa next to Devon who's playing with a rattler and trying to put it in his mouth, I get curious how is Annabelle's dinner going to turn out. She expressed her worries as far as her relationship was concerned, but only parents who care about their daughter would ask her how is she really doing. I'm guessing she is close with her family, why else would she take them to dinner.

When I speak for myself, I can say with certainty that I don't want my mother anywhere close to me on my birthday. My Dad and Deidre are another story, and in Chicago.

I'm almost completely sure Austin will ask me something about her birthday on Caitlin's behalf. In that case, I guess I should, I don't know, buy her a bouquet of tulips or something. Or would that be too personal?

I could talk my way out of it, but I don't want any cold-blooded gingers racing after me.

Buying flowers would probably be fine. Women love them, right? Funnily, I don't remember getting flowers for Patty, while we were a couple.

Speaking of Patty and how I'll try to bury her six feet deep, my plan still hasn't changed. I'm gonna bring Devon with me, probably nail one of Patty's close friends in the process, and have Aidan adore me for getting him an amazing gift.

I'm such a cool uncle.

But one of the things I still haven't sorted out is how will I manage to take the stage and care for Devon at the same time? Hopefully, women would be too happy to see and try to cuddle him. I will assign him the role of a basketball ball - from one hands to another, maybe hitting the floor as well.

I hope I'll think of a better alternative soon, one that may have more weight to it. And hopefully, it'd be one that will piss Patty off even more. But I better think of one fast, since Aidan's birthday is nearing and so is my deadline for executing my ideas.

A/N: I apologise for taking so much time to write and publish this. It's not as long as my usual chapters, but I'm slowly picking myself up from all the stress. As for the schedule, I think one way to ensure regular updates is by expecting me to update every 2 weeks during the weekend. I really missed writing and all of you.

Anyway, my question for you, guys, any ideas what Nathan could do to enrage Patty even more than usual? I'm interested to hear what kind of evil planners I have for my readers 😈

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~Blackie