Chapter 1

I winced, looking at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. “It won’t work,” I grumbled, pulling down the black pencil dress that Angela, my way-too-bossy best friend, made me wear.

“Why not?”

I turned around, meeting the genuine confusion on Angela’s face. “Do you really need to ask?”

She frowned. “Yes, I really do. You look stunning!” She adjusted the wide red belt higher on my waist and took a couple of steps back before sitting on the corner of the bed, crossing her long leg like a graceful Ballerina. Angela had more grace in her little toe than I had in my whole body.

I huffed with exasperation turning back toward the mirror, twisting my mouth with indecision at my reflection. The sophisticated hairdo, the smoky eyes and red lips, the red blouse and tight pencil skirt – it wasn’t me, not even a little.

“Don’t look so disgusted, it’s offensive. You said you liked the new collection and now it seems like you’d rather be caught dead than to go out in this outfit.” She sighed. “It’s great for my self-confidence.”

I rolled my eyes. “This guilt won’t work, Angela.” She was a great designer, and she knew it. She had built her own company while modeling and had been in Vogue five times both for her looks and designs before turning 30.

I sighed in rendition, turning toward her again. “Yes, I do love your new collection.” I admitted sitting beside her on the bed.

Angela’s bed was high as both she and Tom were tall. I looked down, and while my best friend’s legs were gracefully folded, they still touched the floor, mine were dangling like a child’s.

I shook my head in defeat. “I love these clothes on you, Ange. It looks stunning on a 5’10, size 4 blond goddess like you.” I ran my forefinger back and forth on the hem of the skirt which rose above my knees as I sat down. “It doesn’t look so hot on the 5’3, size 14 plain jane.”

Angela’s mouth tightened in frustration. “I’d love for you to see yourself how I see you – for once.”

“You love me,” I replied.

“I – do.” She trailed off, visibly confused about my train of thought. “You need to rewind honey and give me the cliff notes.”

This was a common occurrence with me and even after over twenty years of friendship, I still managed to confuse her. Sometimes my thoughts were going faster than my mouth and it was like jumping chapters of a book.

“I mean that your vision of me is biased because you love me. For you, I will always be beautiful.” I gave her a half shrug. “Love makes you blind, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I am not blind! When I see you in your sweatpants, in desperate need of a shower because you and Tom spent thirty-six hours playing online for some stupid wizard quests…believe me, at that moment, you look horrendous and my husband?” She grimaced. “He puts me off for a few days.”

I chuckled, waving my hand dismissively. “You knew what you were doing when you adopted a geek as a best friend, and you joined the club when you married into geekhood.”

She tried to scowl but the smile tucking at her lips defeated the attempt. She stood up, pulling me up with her. “Anyway, any discussion on this is pointless. You promised to let me play dress-up with you for one night.”

I grimaced, pulling at that stupid skirt once more. “Yes, but it was for your 30^th birthday. You said you wanted to do a makeover. I was a bit drunk, I said yes but…” I turned toward the mirror again. “It was months ago, I’m pretty sure the statute of limitation has run out on that gift, come to think of it.”

I met her gaze in the mirror. My best friend rolled her eyes before swirling me around, keeping her hands tightly on my shoulders. “Don’t go all lawyer on me, you didn’t give me an expiration date, and tonight is the night.”

I pulled on my skirt once more. “Okay, let’s just get tonight over with.” I resigned myself to defeat.

“That’s the spirit!” Angela chirped, ignoring my sore mood. “Now, get this juicy butt into gear. You gave me one evening and I really intend to make the best of it.”

“I really intend to make the best of it.” I mimicked with a high-pitched voice following her down the stairs.

Tom and their seven-year-old son George were waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs by the door. George was already dressed up in his cute Star Wars pajamas that I’d bought him for Christmas.

“Oh, Auntie Ale, you look so pretty,” he said in awe, taking a step toward me. “You look like a girl.”

I chuckled, ruffling his thick, dark, tightly coiled hair. “Do you like me like that?” I asked, readjusting the belt around my waist.

“I always like you.” He grinned, reaching for my hand.

My smile widened. That kid was such a charmer, like his mother.

“What do you want buddy?”

He pointed behind him. “Dad bought the new Lego game today, wanna play with us?”

Angela glared at Tom who looked away with a guilty smile.

I looked longingly at the PlayStation and the bowl of popcorn. What wouldn’t I give to trade this stupid skirt for my sweatpants and play with my boys all evening?

Angela crossed her arm on her chest. “Tom, you promised to wait.” She pointed a finger at the TV. “You know our son must be in bed by 8pm.” She looked suspiciously between the two people who, I knew, were the loves of her life. These two were a team, thick as thieves.

She looked at Tom again. “He’s got school tomorrow, not everyone is on vacation.”

Tom shrugged, a small smile tugging on his wide lips. “The perks of being a university professor.” He turned toward me. “You scrub up well, munchkin.” He pulled me in one of his overwhelming papa bear hugs. “Say the codeword if you need me to get you out of there,” he whispered, only half-joking.

I chuckled, patting his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll survive Angela.”

“Hey! Hey! No! No scheming!” She broke our hug. “Come on, you’re going to wrinkle her blouse.” She sighed resting her perfectly manicured hands on her narrow hips. “Seriously, one evening!” She pointed her forefinger up. “I’m asking you ONE evening and you are being difficult.”

Tom and I looked at each other sheepishly. Ange put up with our crap all the time. All I had to do was pretend not to hate it as much as I did.

“Fine.” I sighed. “Come on, let’s go.” I looked once more at the boys and the amazing evening ahead of them. “You have fun, okay?”

Tom nodded, giving Georgie a piggyback. “Try to have fun tonight.”

I nodded. “I’ll do my best, let me know how the game is, we can maybe play tomorrow.”

“Uber’s here!” Angela shouted, and I knew she only wanted to get out of the house before I could think of a reason to stay home.

*****************

The bar Angela picked was not one of our usual hang-out spots but again, as I was not wearing my usual jeans and large shirts, I was quite grateful we went somewhere I would never go again.

I looked around; most of the customers of the bar were men in suits. “Is there anything I’m missing?”

“Nope…” Angela gave me a mischievous grin. “I’ve researched our night out for a long time, my friend. I knew it was probably my only chance to play dress-up with you, I wanted to make it count.”

“What did you do? Google ‘bars for male professionals?’”

At Angela’s slight blush, I burst into laughter. The kind of full belly, teary-eyes laugh – probably the most unattractive laugh there was, but so liberating.

“You did, didn’t you?”

Angela threw me a dark look. “No, I didn’t just…shut up.” She finished rather lamely, confirming that I wasn’t far from the truth. “I – oh, get lost. I’ll get us some drinks.”

I was still chuckling when she came back with two very brightly colored cocktails.

“What is that?” I asked, suspiciously eyeing the electric blue of the cocktail in front of me.

Angela straightened in her chair. “Won’t tell you, you dare mock your friend and expect my secrets?” She shook her head. “It’s a no from me.”

I took a sip of the cocktail, the aftertaste of pineapple, a clear tell of a Blue Hawaiian. “Come on, you’re always so perfect compared to us mere mortals. It feels so good to be able to laugh at you occasionally.”

Angela threw me her best glare before taking a sip of her drink.

My grin widened as I looked down at my drink, mixing the cocktail with the little pink umbrella.

“May I buy you a drink?” asked a deep voice. I rolled my eyes, keeping my head down. Here we go… It never took much time for men to start hitting on Angela despite the shiny wedding ring she always proudly displayed.

Angela’s pointy shoe connected not too softly with my shin.

I looked at her startled as she jerked her head to her right.

I glanced up and met a pair of amused eyes. I frowned, detailing the man standing in front of our table. He was wearing a grey suit, nothing quite uncommon about it but working with Angela for years allowed me to see that it was a perfect cut, tailor-made for this man. I looked down at his shoes, black, long, shiny … expensive. My grandma used to say that you could say a lot about a person based on their shoes and this man was breathing money. My eyes trailed up his long muscly legs, wide chest, broad shoulders, golden-brown skin, strong stubborn jaw, square chin, full, sensuous lips, straight nose, almond-shaped cornflower blue eyes, black, lustrous, curly hair.

All in all, he was a splendid male specimen and weirdly enough he was turned toward me.

“What?” I asked, oh so gracefully when I finished staring at him.

His smile widened, flashing a perfect set of straight pearl white teeth. Of course, he had perfect teeth, that man was the poster boy for Photoshop – ridiculous!

Angela’s pointy shoe connected with my shin once again. I winced and glared at her; this one was so hard I suspected I was bleeding.

“I asked if you wanted to have a drink with me,” he asked, visibly undeterred by my less-than-classy attitude.

“Why?” I asked and moved my legs quickly enough to avoid Angela’s unforgiving shoe. I smiled victoriously at her when she missed.

“Why not?” he insisted, seemingly oblivious to the silent war going on between Ange and me.

I opened my mouth but closed it again, not sure how I could answer a ‘why not’. “There is no space,” I insisted as the thought of blowing it with that guy really didn’t sit well with me.

Ange stood up, her phone in her hand. “Just take my seat for a little while, I have a couple of calls to make.”

I threw her a look I hoped conveyed both my anger and desperation. She couldn’t leave me here with Model Boy! I was barely socially functioning on the best of days, being alone with him would probably lead to nothing less than a disaster.

I was used to making a fool of myself. I’d had years of experience really but never before in front of someone so aesthetically perfect.

Oh well, there was a first time for everything. Unable to contain my sigh before sipping on my drink, I studied the stunning man sitting across from me.

He was looking back at me, his eyes lit with amusement, a shadow of a smile on his luscious lips.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. What was his end game? “You know, if you’re trying to get friendly with me to get with Angela, you’re wasting your time. I’m not easy to befriend, and Angela is happily married.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, letting his long fingers travel up and down his beer bottle. “I’m sure you’re easier to befriend than you’re giving yourself credit for. As for your friend, it’s a good thing I’m not sitting here for her, because she just got into a taxi.”

I turned around so briskly I almost fell off my chair. Yeah… How to be poised. I looked around the bar and despite being busy I knew I wouldn’t have missed the lithe beauty Angela was. “I just…” I shook my head. No, it wasn’t possible – Angela knew how awkward I was in a social situation, she wouldn’t do that. “Something must have happened – She wouldn’t,” I muttered mostly to myself.

I grabbed my phone on the table, ignoring the man still sitting across from me. Why was he even still there? I was being far from pleasant.

I was about to call Angela when a text popped up on the screen. Decided to go home, everything is fine. Enjoy your evening with hunky man *wink wink*

I looked at the man still staring at me and I blushed under the intensity of his scrutiny. People never bothered giving me a second glance.

You’re so dead. I texted back before jamming the phone furiously in my bag.

His smile broadened, as he leaned closer crossing his arms on the table.

“Are you a sociopath?” I blurted before wanting to bury myself under the shame of my question. And so, it begins….

He chuckled; his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I must admit I’ve never been asked that before. Well no, I’m not, at least I don’t think so. Are you?”

I shook my head, still muted by my own embarrassment.

He nodded. “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, maybe we try to get to know each other better, don’t you think? What’s your name?”

“Ale- Alessandra but my friends call me Al or Ale. Well, some call me Sandra but I’m not a fan and –” Just shut up, Ale.

He extended his hand. “Well nice to meet you, Alessandra.”

I looked at his hand, somehow reluctant to take it. I was alone in a bar with an Adonis, no friend, no safety net to get me out of this nightmare in the making. I knew my hands were probably clammy, and there was no way I would touch him.

“We already established I’m not a sociopath.” He grinned, exposing dimples. I almost wanted to roll my eyes at this little detail. Could he be more perfect?

I wiped my hand on my skirt as discreetly as I could before taking his hand, and as his soft, warm palm engulfed mine, I felt shivers go up my arm to the back of my neck.

I let go of his hand rather briskly and folded my hands on my lap, far from any temptation to see if the tanned skin was as soft as it looked.

“And what’s your name?”

It took a couple of seconds for him to answer. “Nathan… my name is Nathan.”

I frowned ever so slightly at the hesitation. Was it even a hesitation? I cursed myself, stupid work was getting to me again. Not everything you hear needs to be analyzed Ale, let it go.

“Nathan…” I repeated and suddenly his face lifted as if hearing his name pleased him.

“So, Alessandra, what are you doing as a living?”

“I’m a lawyer – I work for a fashion brand.”

“Oh, are you?” He cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Why?” I pursed my lips as I felt the blush of anger hit my neck. “Is it the lawyer or the field I work in?” I shook my head, somehow not able to contain the disappointment I felt. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Either you think I’m too stupid to be a lawyer, or I don’t look the part, either way, you’re offending me.” I grabbed my bag and stood, intending to leave and somehow feeling relieved that I decided to make an escape before making a fool of myself.

He grabbed my forearm, not hard enough to cause discomfort but with enough strength to show me that he was not going to let go easily.

“I think you misinterpreted. You’re so… luminous and funny. Not really what I imagined of a company lawyer. If I offended you in any way, I’m sorry, you are not what I expected and it was meant as a compliment even if I had to admit it was delivered quite poorly.”

His seemingly genuine contrition mollified me. I looked at him, still clutching my bag.

“Please?” he added.

“I can’t stay late.”

“One drink, I promise.” He gestured to the chair I’d vacated.

I sighed. How much trouble could my mouth get me in over the course of just one drink? A lot… a lot of trouble was the correct answer, but I sat down, anyway. “One drink.”

He nodded, his bright smile back on his face, gesturing to the barman for a round of drinks. “I just thought you would…I just thought you would be the type of lawyer to save the widows and the orphans… You seem to radiate goodness.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m saving the world of poor fashion one contract at a time.” It seemed quite ironic all things considered as my idea of dressing up was to swap my ratty sweatpants for a pair of jeans and the holey tee-shirt for one of my many pleated shirts.

“The world should thank you.” He joked.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair, starting to feel a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Ah.” He nodded, looking down at this beer. “I’m not saving the world.”

“We can’t all be doing that.”

His smile widened. “No, I guess we can’t. I’m an architect.”

“Oh!”

His smile widened. “See, should I get offended at the look of surprise on your face?”

I tried to school my features. “No, I…” I cleared my throat. “I’ve never met an architect before, that’s all.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Your life is now complete.”

I couldn’t help but snort at his comment. Way to be sexy Ale. “It must be quite fulfilling to see your creations take life.”

He nodded. “It really is, it’s like leaving a little piece of me to the world.”

“Quite a unique way to be immortal.”

He scrutinized my face as if this statement surprised him. “It really is.”

Things went well, and I was amazed to realize after an hour that I was enjoying myself.

“It’s getting late… I’ve to go.” And I was surprised by my own disappointment.

Nathan nodded as I ordered my ride home. “Let me walk you out.”

“You don’t have to.”

He smiled again, and I started to understand that while other men might be running from my social inadequacies, this one seemed amused by them.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” He helped me with my jacket. “Shall we?” He rested his hand on my back.

I nodded mutely and let him lead me outside, unsure of what to say.

As he stood on the sidewalk, he turned toward me, burying his hands in his pockets. “I would like to see you again.” He admitted, looking down at me, his eyes slightly cocked to the right.

“Why?” I had been a social disaster; I’d done pretty much everything that Angela and every women’s magazine ever told us not to do. He should have been running in the opposing direction, not standing close to me, asking for more.

“Why?” he asked, repeating me and then he laughed, leaning back on his heels. “Well, because you are genuine, it’s refreshing. You make me laugh more than I thought was possible, even if it is despite yourself but also because you are clever, witty, inquisitive, and absolutely lovely.”

I looked down at my shiny shoes and the piece of gum fused with the sidewalk. Compliments. That was the worst, I was not used to receiving them, and I was clueless on how to deal with them.

I looked up, trying to avoid his intuitive crystal-blue orbs which seemed to read me like an open book.

I could hear Angela so clearly in my head. Just say thank you, Ale. And yet, against my own advice, I pointed a finger to my outfit. “It’s all make-up and smart clothes you know – Smoke and mirrors.”

He leaned down, so close I smelled the mix of the beer on his breath and his woodsy aromatic cologne. “You should give me more credit, love, there isn’t much I haven’t already figured out,” he whispered close to my ear, making me shiver.

I looked over his shoulder and felt a wave of relief at the Uber rounding the corner. “My car is here!” I exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back, but he followed my lead, not letting me add the much-needed distance between us.

He looked at the car and took a step to the right, blocking my view and access to the car. “So, what do you say Alessandra? Lunch, you and me, tomorrow.”

“If I say yes, will you let me get into the car?” I fidgeted.

He brought his hand up and crossed his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t really think it’s how it’s done.”

“I don’t know.” He grinned leaning down. “I’ve never been a scout.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. I liked how, despite my nervousness and inadequacies, he still managed to make me feel at ease, at least as much as ease as I ever felt in the company of an attractive member of the opposite gender. “Yes.”

He rocked back on his heels. “One more thing – Can I have your phone?”

I tightened my hold on it, my phone was pretty much an extension of my person.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I just want to give you my number and call for you to have mine.”

“Oh yes that makes sense.” I was grateful for the low lighting in the street hiding my embarrassment. “Of course, we have to exchange numbers!” Basic and yet… I sighed.

As his smile wavered, I understood that he mistook my sigh for a sign of reluctance. “It’s alright. Take my number and send me yours if you feel like it.” He reached in his pocket and scribbled his phone number on the back of the bar receipt. “I’ll be waiting for you at 12:30 at Urban. I really hope you don’t change your mind.”

I shoved the piece of paper in my pocket as he moved out of the way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked again as I opened the car door.

I looked at him for a minute, somehow still expecting it to be a joke, a dream, or even some kind of vivid fever-induced hallucination, but no, it was real – this more-than-gorgeous man wanted to spend time with me.

“Yes, see you then.”

Much later that night, when I was safely in my comfy bed in my favorite flannel pajamas – I kept thinking about the evening and Nathan.

“Nathan…” I let the name out as if to break the spell. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and stared at my new added contact still unsure of what to do. I ran my thumb on the smartphone screen over his name. I’d never been good at opening up to people, letting them in was the best way of getting hurt and I had been hurt enough for one lifetime.

It’s only your number Ale – not an organ. I knew it was a bit late to send a text, but he was the reason for my sleeplessness and therefore deserved to be woken up.

You can call me Ale. I texted, not sure of what else to say.

The answer came seconds later, before I even got a chance to put the phone back on the nightstand, at least it was good to know that he was as restless as I was.

See, befriending you was easy. See you tomorrow Ale 😉

Chapter  1 – Amber

I jolted awake due to the wailing of the infant in the Pack ‘N Play beside me.  Rolling over in my single bed, I looked at the clock. It was already 5:00 am. I had to be up in an hour anyway.

I yawned, stretching my sore back, trying my best to fight my urge to fall back asleep. I turned and stood up, looking at Timmy for a couple of seconds before picking him up. “Someone’s hungry.” I smiled at him.

His cries never bothered me. I cherished them – every single one of them because I knew I could lose them at any moment. Timmy’s sick heart could give in and take him away from me, so every minute with him was precious.

I rocked him gently as I went to prepare his bottle. My smile vanished when I realized how little formula was left. I would only have enough for today… But that had to be a problem for later. Right now only Timmy’s feeding mattered.

I prepared his bottle, mixed his heart medication in, and, as usual, got lost in his beautiful, emerald eyes as he drank. Eyes so similar to his father’s. A father he had never met and never would as Eddie had died seven weeks before Timmy’s birth. .

“It’s going to be fine, my boy,” I whispered, trying to convince him as much as myself.

Once I’d finished his feeding, I changed his diaper and prepared his diaper bag.

I only had enough formula for his next three feedings. I checked my wallet. I had five dollars. And my online banking was not looking good either – only twelve dollars remained. That wasn’t even enough to buy the small can of his special sensitive formula.

Trying not to despair, I looked around my tiny studio flat which despite being smaller than a shoe box was painfully bare. I’d sold everything I could recently which wasn’t much. Now, I realized that I’d actually reached the bottom of the barrel.

The little boy was asleep again. With his chin being slightly dimpled and his hair a soft dark brown, he was a painful reminder of Opal – and consequently myself.

Yawning, I made myself a cup of tea.  I then looked around the cupboard for food, but they were as empty as I’d expected them to be.

Sighing, I made a second cup, hoping that it would lessen the pain of hunger.

Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I tightened my long, dark hair into a ponytail. The light was not flattering for sure, but even it couldn’t account for the haggard image staring back at me. The deep, dark circles. The bloodshot eyes. The pale skin and gaunt frame. Looking at myself, I blinked back tears. How had this all happened? When had I become that girl terrified for the next bill to come in the mail or the next shut-off notice to appear on her front door?

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, I didn’t have the luxury to break down. I had a job to go to and a sickly, six months old baby to take care of.

I changed into my itchy, polyester uniform – a green, ill-fitted shirt, black skirt, and green apron. Then I  slid on my overused, black sneakers .

I walked back into the room and sat on the bed, looking at Timmy playing silently in his bed, chewing on his Sophie La Girafe, a generous present from Dee – one of so many.

I smiled when his eyes connected with me. Once again I felt that overwhelming wave of love that made every sacrifice worthwhile.

“Everything is going to be fine, baby boy, you’ll see.” I checked his day bag once more, which basically consisted of his bottle, the leftover formula, a few diapers, and the most critical item – his heart medication.

Picking Timmy up from his Pack ‘N Play, I kissed his head. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. I knew it would not last, but it was the best smell in the world.

“Okay my boy, be good to Aunty Dee, won’t you? I’ll be back as soon as can.”

Timmy cooed and grabbed at my cheek. I interpreted that to mean, ‘Cool, Ma. We’re good’

I took the stairs to the next floor up and knocked softly on Dee’s door just in case her husband was still asleep. He’d just finished a nightshift at the hospital, working as a nursing assistant, so I felt quite guilty standing there. But Dee had assured me he slept like a log.

Dee opened the door with a wide smile as if life had always been kind to her.

“How is it that you always look like a supermodel and I look like a hobo reject?”

She laughed. Her red lips were striking against her Espresso brown skin.  “It comes with the job, honey. Ain’t nobody want their beautician to look like a mess.”

She said that, but Dee had always looked like a Nubian Queen – even when she’d been working as a prostitute.

Dee had quit the streets  seven years ago, just a couple of years after Opal had started.

Dee had met Raoul and married him before obtaining her beautician license.

She has  been a mother hen to all the street girls since then and very much a mother figure to me since I’d moved with Opal at the tender age of eleven.

“You look tired, my girl,” she said with concern as she took Timmy from me. “I really don’t like this look on you.”

“Way to tell me I look like shit. Thanks, Dee.” I tried to diffuse her concern with a joke; it was better than bursting into tears. My state of worry and tiredness was bringing me closer and closer to the edge of a mental breakdown.

She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed. “We need to talk, sweet girl.”

I’d known this was coming. It was a discussion we’d had a few times already. How Opal wouldn’t have wanted this life for me.

Well, I’m sure Opal hadn’t planned on getting knocked-up by Eddie, her heroin-addicted boyfriend, who even if he’d had a kind heart, had been a train wreck. I was also sure she had not planned on dying from sepsis a week after giving birth, leaving me as the sole guardian of a baby boy born both with a heart defect and a drug addiction and yet, here we were.

I sighed. “Yes, but not now I need to get to work.”

She nodded. Looking at Timmy, she ran her long red nails across his tummy, making him giggle.

“I love this little one, you know,” she added, still looking at him.

“Yes, I know. Thanks again. I know helping can’t be easy; I really appreciate it.”

She smiled up at me, but her whiskey-colored, kohl surrounded eyes suddenly turned sad. “We’re family. I’d lost one of mine when we lost Opal. You’re family, sweet girl. I saw you grow up. There’s no shame in asking for help.”

I looked down, rubbing my arms self-consciously. “I know that. Anyway, I really have to go. I can’t miss the bus. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. My clients never mind this little one’s interruptions. They are mothers too, so they understand.”

I had to run to the bus stop.  I caught it just as the driver was closing the doors. It took almost four stops for me to catch my breath; I really was taking being unfit to a whole new level.

“Ah, here you are, sunshine.” Rodrigo, the old Puerto Rican chef, smiled and pointed to a plate full of eggs, bacon, and waffles. “I made a mistake on an order. Why don’t you eat it?”

I blinked back tears. We both knew it hadn’t been a mistake. This would probably be the only real meal I’d have all day. I couldn’t be more grateful for this man. He looked stern and unapproachable, but he had the biggest heart a man could probably have.

“You’re fading away, Mami. You need to eat more,” he whispered as I shoved half of a waffle into my mouth.

I nodded. I would if I could, I thought, but Timmy’s needs came first – always and forever.

Rodrigo looked at me as he flipped some bacon. His chef hat perched crookedly on his head. I didn’t like being a source of worry for him. He had a wife and a son in college; he didn’t need to worry about poor little Amber Collins.

Putting the last piece of crispy bacon into my mouth, I savored the sensation of a full belly – something that was rarer than I cared to admit or think about. Jumping up from my spot on the counter, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and straightened his hat. “Thanks again for everything, but things are getting better.” How could I even say that with a straight face?

I put my bag in my locker and clocked in on my punch time card. I was about to walk onto the floor when Denny exited his office.

“Amber, could I see you in my office for a minute, please?”

I looked at the clock. The morning rush hour was about to start. It was the best time for tips; I couldn’t afford to miss any of it.

He seemed to understand my conflict because he gestured me in. “It will only take a minute. Just come in, please.”

I nodded as if I had a choice. Denny was fair, but firm and didn’t tolerate any disrespect; it was all I could really ask for from a boss.

“Amber, I noticed the schedule has been changed and you’re covering for Maria tomorrow.”

I frowned, sitting in the seat he’d just gestured me to. He’d never minded that before. He has always said that as long as he has coverage, he doesn’t care who does what. “Yes. She has to help her sister with some wedding arrangement. I don’t have a problem covering for her.”

“You don’t, but I do. Amber, you’ve been working for me for how long? Two years?”

I nodded.

“But recently, I’m worried about you, kid. The other staff is too.”

“I’m doing a good job!” I exclaimed. “I’m a good waitress.”

“You are, probably the best I have, but you are walking a fine line. You are so thin and tired. No amount of makeup can hide that.” He shook his head. “You’ve worked twenty-three days in a row. If you keep on going like this, you’ll get sick, and then you won’t have a job and I won’t have my best waitress.”

“Yes, but -” How could I even ask him for a pay advance now?

He raised his hand. “I understand that life has not been kind to you recently with your sister passing away and her sick kid becoming your charge, but think about him for a minute, if you don’t want to think about yourself. What will happen to him if you get too sick to take care for him? Who would care for him then? He’ll end up in the system and that’s not a place for a kid, let alone a sick one.”

I looked down at my hands. Denny was an orphan that ended up in the social system, somewhere I would have ended myself if it hadn’t been for Opal.

“But – ”

He shook his head. “No, Amber. This isn’t healthy, so you’re going to take this -” he slipped an envelope toward me – “and then take tomorrow off.”

I took the envelop and looked into it to find $200. I had to blink back tears. “I don’t want charity.” Why was I saying that? I didn’t have the luxury to refuse, especially since I knew I would have to apply for food stamps in the very near future.

“It’s not charity, trust me. Someone left it as a tip on your table last night.”

I rested the envelope against my chest. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Now go and do your shift, and I better not see you until Thursday, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Really.”

He grunted, looking down at his desk, clearly dismissing me.

I walked into the kitchen a little lighter. I tucked the envelop into my apron pocket before looking at Rodrigo, who was giving me a knowing smile.

“Was that you?” I whispered as I stopped beside him and pointed toward the office.

He shrugged. “He just needed a reality check.”

“You’re good to me.”

“You deserve it. Now go; the room is filling up.”

For once, my shift was enjoyable. The tips were generous and combined with the “tip from last night,” I was ready to leave with a total of almost $240! I could pay the electricity bill, buy a couple boxes of formula, a big bag of diapers, and enough ramen noodles to last me a week. I could probably even indulge in a couple of Mars bars too.

“I’ve heard Denny’s put you on house arrest for two days.”

I cringed at the voice of Zack, Denny’s nephew. He was a self-entitled asshole who was supposed to be working here in order to learn about values, but who would never do.

I turned around with a fake smile. Zack was only a few months younger than me, but he acted like an immature teenager. He’d never had any issues in his life, and though that was good, it meant that he had no idea about what life was really like.

“Ah, well you know, it’s okay. Thanks for the concern.”

He leaned against the wall beside me, his red hair falling in front of his eyes. A grin that didn’t predict anything good, appeared on his lips.

“Maybe I can help you with that. I have a job for you.”

“Okay…” I trailed off. I was not against making a little more money, but working for Zack was not that appealing.

“Yeah. So I have this party this weekend, but have nobody to take. I’ll pay you $300.”

I frowned, grabbing my bag and holding it against my chest like a barrier. “You’re a decent looking guy. I’m sure you don’t need to pay anyone.”

He shrugged. “I just don’t want to work too hard for the after soirée. With you, I’m sure to get what I want.”

I froze, ice settling in my stomach. “Excuse me?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, come on. I know what your sister’s job was. It has to run in the family and I’m sure you can use the money.” He sighed. “Okay, I’m ready to go up to $400 if you let me shove it up your ass.”

Bile rose in my throat at the thought of having sex with him or anyone for that matter, especially for money. How did he find out about Opal? And was it like this for her? Was she propositioned even when she didn’t want to be?

“No.”  How had he ever thought I’d agree to this?

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Why?”

I snorted. “Why?” I shook my head. “I’m not even sure what to say. My sister’s career choice was made out of desperation, not pleasure. Besides, what she did, does not define me.”

“Of course, it does. Your sister was a whore and I’m sure it won’t take much more for you to be as well. It’s in your blood.”

I was a breath away from kicking him in the nuts, my job be damned, but then he moved from his spot.

“Just think about it.”

He walked away nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just insulted me, and in his head, he probably hadn’t.

I took a deep breath. Water off the duck’s back. Water off the duck’s back. I repeated the mantra as I forced my anger away.

After taking the bus back to North Philadelphia, I walked to Walmart.  I bought all I needed and breathed a little lighter when I managed to pay my electricity bill, knowing that the lights would stay on for at least another month.

I was looking forward to getting some sleep the next day; I could even take a nap. I smiled at the thought – sleeping and eating – two wonderful things so many people took for granted.

I carried the bags back to my flat, then took a quick shower to get rid of the greasy smell of work before going to pick up my little boy.

I texted Dee to let her know I was on my way up. I didn’t want to interrupt her if she was with a client.

“Timmy is sleeping,” she said, inviting me in. Her apartment was probably three times the size of mine. She had two bedrooms, one of which she’d transformed into a treatment room.

She is the reason I got the studio apartment I lived in.

I used to live in the Badlands, North Philly’s roughest area, with Opal. We had a place in a building full of prostitutes and drug dealers. It was not uncommon for us to come home to blood stains in the corridors.

When I turned eighteen, Opal had decided to leave. I’d come back from school to find a note saying that she had decided I was old enough to take care of myself and that she needed to go take care of herself. I couldn’t blame her, really; she had sacrificed a lot for me. But then a few of her dealers had come knocking at my door, requesting me to pay for her debts either with money or an alternative payment.

When I’d missed a payment/refused, one of them had tried to force himself on me. That day, Lady Luck had been on my side, all things considered. I had managed to escape, running the seven blocks to Dee’s place with a bloody nose, a swollen lip, and a ripped tee shirt. She had never let me leave.

After convincing the landlord to rent the minuscule studio flat to me at a discount, which she’d accomplished by offering to provide his wife with free treatments for the year/life, Raoul had left to pack up my stuff.

I’d managed to go to community college, taking night classes as I worked at Denny’s. Things had started looking up until Opal and her boyfriend had shown up at my door. She was four months pregnant then and trying to get clean. Eddie was high, but kind.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I was thinking about Opal.”

She sighed. “That’s the problem, sweet girl. You have a hard time asking for help.”

“The tips at Denny’s was good today, and I’m off for two days.”

She nodded. “Okay, then you know what you’ll do? You’ll drop the kid off here in the morning and then go enjoy a you day.”

“A me day?” I eyed her curiously. “How -“

She chuckled. “Just be the kid you still are. Go to the cinema, the museum, grab some junk food.”

“But – “

She shook her head. “No, just one day. You’ve been a full-time mother for six months. Just take one day. Selfcare is not a luxury, sweet girl; it’s mandatory.”

“I need to go to the hospital tomorrow. I need to get Timmy’s meds renewed. It’s always -”

She shook her head. “Nice try, but Raoul will get them for you. He said he can get Timmy enrolled in the permanent program of renewal. Why didn’t you ask him to do that earlier?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re probably the most selfless person there is. Raoul has been working there for over twenty years. Now let me make you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and extra marshmallows”

“Thank you.” I beamed. When I was with Dee, I felt like a kid again. It felt nice; her maternal vibe was like a balm on my weary heart and I loved her like my own blood.

“Oh, the white bag on the console is for you,” She called from the kitchen

“Dee…”

“It’s not from me. Tasha dropped off my cosmetic order earlier and brought that bag for you. She said your marketing plan was working well.”

Looking in the bag, I found a bottle of Victoria’s Secret body lotion, numerous tubes of lipsticks, nail polish, and a few other frivolity items. I  would not be able to afford any of it if it wasn’t for Tasha and her store.  I usually traded my two years college experience in Marketing for free goods.

“You deserve it, you know,” she said, coming back with the hot chocolate and two pieces of pie. “You’re good at it. Since you started helping me, my clientele has increased by fifty percent.”

I shrugged. “It’s nothing special.”

“Yes, it is, and you should finish your degree or get a better job.”

I sighed. “Denny understands Timmy’s situation. He knows that sometimes I might not be able to come in and on zero notice, but maybe after Timmy is better, I’ll go back to school.”

“You know, Raoul and I’ve talked about it and you only have a year left. We could -”

I raised my hand. “No, absolutely not! Never.” I shook my head. “You keep your hard-earned money. Please, don’t. It would break my heart.”

She sighed. “At least stay for dinner? I made jambalaya.”

I lit up. Dee was originally from Louisiana; her Cajun food was out of this world.

“You don’t have to ask twice!”

Once Timmy fell asleep after dinner, she painted my nails a vibrant red. I sighed with contentment on my way back to my studio. My belly was full and a sleepy Timmy laid in my arms.

I laid Timmy down for the night and smiled at his peaceful face. Today had started out quite darkly, but it had brightened in ways I hadn’t expected it to.

Maybe things have finally started to turn around, after all.

Chapter 1

Sometimes you don’t realize when your life is about to change forever.

Often, it’s planned – you’re getting married, having a baby, moving, changing careers, controlled changes.

But sometimes you’re just there, sitting at the last bonfire of the summer, about to start senior year, thinking about when Ben DeLuca would finally stop the two years of slow-burn flirting and ask you out and your phone beeps with a text that would change your whole life.

I’m sorry.

I frowned; my dad was a lot of things but not melodramatic.

Why? I texted back.

I didn’t manage to protect you. I’m sorry Esmeralda.

“Esmeralda?” I frowned. Who the hell is Esmeralda?

I jumped from the log I was sitting on. This sounded too much like my drunk dad, a version of him I thought disappeared over five years ago.

I started around the camp, calling my friend Juliet, my ride home, who would probably not hear me over the pounding sound of Fall Out Boy.

I turned around, charging toward the car park, hoping I could beg someone to give me a ride.

“Esme, Esme wait!”

I turned around but kept on walking backward as Ben jogged toward me, a drink in each hand.

“I was just coming to find you.” He extended a solo cup. “It’s alcohol-free, I promise.”

If I hadn’t been so worried, I would have smiled. With all the girls here, he was seeking me out with his broad shoulders, dark eyes and dark hair.

“No, I – My dad’s – ” I shook my head. My father was his football coach. How could I tell him I feared my father was drunk? Making the same mistake he swore he would never make again when he uprooted us from Boulder, Colorado, to Columbia, Missouri, in the middle of the night?

“What about your dad?” He took a step toward me, his eyebrows etched in worry.

“Where’s Jules?”

“Yeah….” He winced. “I saw her leave with Drew and Topher toward the beach so…” He rubbed his neck.

“Oh,” I blushed at the implication. “I really need to get home.”

He rested the drinks on a rock nearby and pointed to his bike. “Let me take you. I’ve got a spare helmet.”

I stared at his Ducati. How many girls dreamt about getting on the back of his red and silver bike? I dreamed of it too – but not like this, not with the fear in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong.

I looked around the parking lot but there was no one around.

“You can’t tell,” I warned him.

He took my hand, pulling me toward his bike. “Tell what?”

“Anything you might see. Please Ben. It’s important.”

He put the helmet on my head, securing it tightly. “Of course, always.” His chocolate eyes reflected the sincerity of his words.

“Dad, he’s…” I was not even sure; I just had this uncontrollable dread filling my lungs with ice.

“It’s okay.” He straddled his bike, adjusting his own helmet. “Hop on.”

Once again, I was grateful to have ignored Juliet and her advice to wear a skimpy dress and worn my skinny jeans and combat boots instead.

The fifteen-minute ride to my house seemed never-ending, and I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy the firmness of Ben’s body or my first ever trip on the back of a bike. No, all I could think about was why my dad would drink again and what situation I would make it back to.

The scene when we arrived at the house didn’t ease my stomach. The car was parked crookedly, halfway between the driveway and the lawn, with the driver’s side door open and the keys still in the ignition. The front door of the house was slightly ajar.

I grabbed the car keys, closed the car door and took a few tentative steps toward the house, taking a small breath to settle my nerves.

I stopped when I heard footsteps behind me.

“What are you doing?”

Ben frowned at my tone. “Coming in with you.”

I shook my head. “No, I needed a ride, and you provided me with that ride. Thank you but –”

He pointed a finger at the door, a deep scowl on his face. “If you think I’m going to let the girl I like walk in a place without knowing what to expect.”

“Listen, it’s…” I began before taking a step backwards in surprise when I fully registered his statement. “The girl you like?”

He looked heavenward with a heavy sigh. “Maybe not the best moment for revelations is it?”

I shook my head. I will kill my father for ruining this moment for me. “Just, please don’t judge.”

“I won’t.”

Sadly, the vision I walked in on wasn’t unfamiliar even if it hadn’t happened in some time.

My father was lying on his stomach, an empty bottle of vodka on the floor beside a puddle of vomit.

I crinkled my nose at the once-familiar, and never fully forgotten, stench of alcohol and vomit mixed together.

Ben gagged.

“Please go Ben,” I implored. “I can deal with it just – just don’t tell, OK? I’ll explain to you on Monday at school. I promise.”

Ben looked down at me, and the worry mixed with pity in his eyes was the nail in my coffin. I wasn’t sure I could forgive my father, not again.

“Esme…”

I shook my head, my eyes burning with my unshed tears. “Please…” I croaked.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” Not in this life, I won’t.

When he was gone, I took the mirror out of my bag and brought it close to my father’s face. I’d learned from my past mistakes and I would not lean down to check his breathing – his drunk-sick breath used to almost knock me out when I was a kid.

I sighed in relief when the faint fog of breath coated the mirror – at least he only drank himself into a stupor and not to death.

“You promised, Dad,” I whispered as my eyes started to water. I cried for him never getting over mom’s death. I cried for a mom who died giving birth to me and I cried for myself and the life I had.

I opened the windows, letting the blinds down to get rid of the pungent, sickening smell which would need at least a couple of moppings with bleach to eliminate it.

I picked up the bottle and wasn’t even surprised to find discarded empty beer bottles in the sink and in the trash.

“God damnit, Dad!” I cursed, throwing the bottle so hard in the trashcan that it shattered the glass.

I turned toward my father, surprised that this ear-shattering noise didn’t even manage to get a stir out of him.

I held my breath and cleaned the vomit by the sofa, cursing him with every scrub. No 17-year-old should have had to clean up her parent’s mess… Well, no 12-year-old should have had to do that either and yet I’d done it before. I just didn’t feel the strength to start all over again.

“Why?” I asked, staring at my snoring father, once I was finally done with the cleaning,

I looked at the clock and it was past 2am. At least I didn’t have to be at work before the afternoon.

I set a glass of water and two ibuprofens on the coffee table before begrudgingly resting a blanket on his motionless body, and sat heavily on the table, facing him.

I ran my hands over my face and let out a weary sigh. Perhaps part of my leniency for his behaviour came from two things – one was the love and attention he had always given me. We never had much, him being a single father living on a meagre high-school football coach’s salary, but he never made me feel the lack of money. Our places were always small and sparse but he made sure to buy me nice clothes, sending me to dance lessons and had even set up a college fund which wasn’t big, but he had been trying.

He had really turned over a new leaf when we left Boulder. I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened but part of me suspected that his drinking problem hadn’t gone unnoticed and that he feared social services would take me away. The fear of losing me had been enough to get him out of his alcoholism and to start fresh. I might have second-guessed a lot of things in my life but his love for me was never one of them.

And the second reason was the guilt I couldn’t help but feel. He repeated, time and time again, that I wasn’t to blame for my mother’s death, but how could I not feel guilty when her death was so intrinsically linked with my life?

I let out a tearless sob. I was just too tired and stressed to deal with all that and couldn’t help wondering what life would have been like if mom hadn’t died.

“I’m sorry,” my father muffled, finally stirring a little.

“No, not anymore Dad. You promised.”

“I couldn’t protect you from him. I failed. He found you.”

I leaned closer, trying to ignore his breath. His eyes were closed. I was not even sure he was awake.

“Who?” I rested my hand on his shoulder and jerked him softly. “Who found me?”

“Your real father.” He replied.

My what?

Chapter 1- Caleb

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting in the car, but it was long enough for my ass to go numb. I sighed, keeping my eyes locked on to the bay windows of Seashell Diner.

“Seashell Diner,” I said, and snorted at the stupidity of the name. It was so unoriginal for a diner located by the seafront… Small town, small people, small minds, and–

I lost my train of thought as my eyes followed the waitress exiting the kitchen. Her wavy ponytail moved from side to side as she carried an impressive amount of plates to a table full of jocks I wanted to kill, just for the smile she gave them.

I closed my eyes. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to keep my feelings in check, tried to bury them so deep inside I’d forget them. I wanted to go back to the man I’d been before – unfeeling, but functioning at least. Before her I had never felt like a bipolar man without his lithium. Before her I’d never felt out of control.

I hated myself for all these feelings and it made me hate her even more. I opened my eyes and looked at her as she cleaned a table close to the entrance. I could see the necklace I’d given her shine around her neck and this caused a lot of complicated and contradictory feelings to settle in my treacherous heart.

Esmeralda Forbes… I had known from the moment our eyes had connected that first day when I’d driven to Archibald’s home that she was trouble – with her pinup, unassuming beauty.

I had thought it was an act before; no girl that looked like that could be so kind, so humble and yet she was…or was she?

A new wave of anger filled me. She had played me. I looked down at my hand and the engagement ring resting in my palm. For all I knew it might have all been an act.

I clenched my hand around the ring and squeezed, squeezed with all the rage, betrayal and shame I felt – rage at the whole situation and reason behind her slip-up, betrayal by her and Archibald who’d plotted against me, and shame for not seeing it coming.

Archibald was smart. I couldn’t prove his involvement, but she’d disappeared so well, leaving breadcrumbs leading in the wrong direction. As far as I could see Esmeralda was smart, but she was not calculating. She was not a mastermind, not like Archibald and I were. She was much more controlled by her feelings, as her slip-up a week ago had proved, and this disappointed me in some strange way.

If she hadn’t called him, that stupid insignificant jock, she would still be at bay, any trace of her existence hidden so well – suspiciously, professionally so.

For a month William and my father had spent thousands of dollars trying to find her to no avail, nothing at all except this stupid wild goose chase around New York where her ring was found.

I had almost lost all hope of finding her, punishing her, lost the hope of getting my revenge for making me feel like a fool, for letting her see the small chink in my armor and using it against me. Maybe I should thank her for that, for pointing out that chink, because it had allowed me to seal it, cover it and make myself stronger and angrier than I had ever been. It had allowed me to plot and organize a revenge of biblical proportions. I was going to make her feel what she’d made me feel tenfold.

  Feelings were a liability, a weakness, something that were used against you, even by the people you cared for. My mother had told me that time and time again and I’d thought I’d learned…until her.

And Esmeralda had fallen in the same stupid trap when she’d called the insignificant Ben Deluca, that pauper idiot. So here I was about to bring her home, back to a cage so secure she’d never escape again – at least until I had considered my revenge complete.

My phone vibrated on the passenger seat. I rolled my eyes at the name flashing up – W. Forbes. I had to pick up if I wanted to prevent him from jumping in his other jet. I’d barely managed to have him agree to let me come here by myself.

“Have you found her?” He demanded as soon as I picked up the phone.

Good morning to you too, I thought sarcastically. “Yes sir, I have just found her.” Lies. “She is working and there are a lot of people around her. I need to find an opportunity to get her alone. I need time.”

He sighed with frustration. “Why? You can just carry her away. Drug her if you have to.”

I rolled my eyes again. This man was just so basic. “In this day and age, sir, with social media, I would strongly advise against a public tantrum and attempted kidnapping unless you want the videos to hit the web. Then everybody will know that Esmeralda Forbes didn’t take a sabbatical in Paris like we said, but ran away from you.”

“From us,” he corrected, and I knew he enjoyed my demise much more than he cared to admit.

I pursed my lips, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Maybe so. I agree that it wouldn’t look good on me to have a runaway bride, but having a daughter disrespect the all-powerful William Forbes…” I trailed off, letting him interpret it the way he wanted to.

“Just–” he growled. “Just bring her back. I don’t care how. I want her home – tonight. If you can’t I’ll dispatch a team and–”

“That won’t be necessary, sir.”

“One can hope. Call me when you are on your way to the airstrip or if you’re failing.”

“I can handle it!” I barked, letting go of my fake patience. Who did he think he was? By claiming Esmeralda, I was saving him from an impending scandal. He owed me! I wasn’t one of his lackeys he could bully. He would have to learn to respect me too.

He hung up without another word.

I scowled at the phone in my hand. I could handle Esmeralda. It hadn’t taken me long to find her once I’d made it to Carmel – less than six hours in fact. I’d planned to grab her at the end of her last shift, but had hesitated when I’d seen her exit, the silver necklace I’d given her proudly around her neck. I’d realized that I’d missed my opportunity when she was engulfed by the crowd on the pier.

I’d followed her, hidden under my baseball cap. She’d stopped by a hot chocolate cart and ordered one; it might have been January, but it was California. Then she’d walked further down and sat on a bench, looking up at the temporary Ferris wheel, set up for what I presume was the holidays. I’d seen her face quite well from my spot, half-hidden behind a newsstand. She’d looked up wistfully, almost pained. Was she conflicted? Was she thinking about the day I never should have given her? A day that made me look and feel weak and foolish?

My will had wavered in that moment and it’d angered me to realize that, willingly or not, she still had power over me. I had tried to reason with myself, pretending that I just needed to see the life she’d built in case she wanted to leave again; the more you knew about your prey, the more leverage you had.

I had followed her to the three-story apartment building and stayed there, in the parking lot, for over an hour before going back to my bed & breakfast. It had been risky to do that. What if she’d actually noticed me and disappeared into the night?

But I was relieved in the morning when I’d parked in front of the diner and saw her waiting tables. This was where I had been for the last two hours, just observing.

You’re turning into a fucking stalker, Astor. I could hear Archibald’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me.

I growled, reaching for the Yankees cap on the passenger seat. It had been one of Theo’s favorites, along with his Iron Man one. I wasn’t sure why I kept the memento, but even now, I couldn’t let it go completely.

But now was not the time. Now I had to bring home a more-than-reluctant bride.

I waited for Esmeralda to disappear into the kitchen before walking into the diner and grabbing a menu. Sitting at the back, I opened the menu to hide my face.

“Do you need anything else?” I heard her ask on my left. Just her voice caused unwanted emotions to arise – mainly anger, but even that was too much. She shouldn’t be able to affect me this much. Any feelings she caused, positive or negative, were a weakness – a weakness I couldn’t afford.

“Your number,” one of the jocks sniggered.

I gripped the yellow laminated menu tighter in my hands, using all my willpower not to jump from my seat on an overused brown leather bench and smash his head on the table for daring to covet what was mine.

She sighed. “I already said I was not interested, but thank you.”

“Ah, come on. He’s been forcing us to come for greasy breakfasts for the past ten days just because of you,” another one whined, his voice even more aggravating than the other.

“You think insulting my place of work will help you?”

These guys don’t think, Esmeralda. They’re idiots… Driven by lust, not logic.

One of them sighed. “Come on Vicky, look at him. He is a catch in college and well off.”

Esmeralda snorted. “If you’re such a fan, why don’t you date him yourself? I assume you don’t need anything else, so if you’ll excuse me, I have other tables to attend to.”

“What can I get you?” She asked much closer now and whilst I knew it was impossible, it was like I could feel her.

I placed her engagement ring in the middle of the table. “What can I get for that?” I asked before sliding the menu down.

She paled. “Why are you here?” She whispered, looking around the room.

I frowned at her question. She seemed surprised that I was there, but not that she’d been found.

I arched an eyebrow. “Not really the question I’d expected,” I admitted

She gave a guarded look, resting her hand on her chest, trying to hide her necklace. Too late, little girl.

“Where are the others?”

I cocked my head to the side, running my thumb back and forth over my bottom lip – a sort of compromise to stop me from doing this to her own rose petal plump lip.

“Who? Your father? Your brother? Whichever traitor helped you escape?”

“Nobody helped me.”

She’d answered too fast for it to be true. I’ll find the traitor…traitors…and they’ll pay just as she will. I sighed, reaching for the ring again.

“Why did you come?” she asked, taking a step back.

I’m not certain, I thought as I showed her the ring. “I came to remind you that you made a commitment which you have to uphold.”

“But–” She pursed her lips and once again she seemed puzzled by the wrong things.

“Aren’t you going to ask how we found you? Where did you fail?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“No, I guess not.” I stood up, putting the ring back in my pants pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Caleb, I–”

I shook my head. “No, you lost the right to make demands the moment you left.” I gripped her wrist before she had a chance to take another step back.

“I think you should let her go,” one of the jocks from the nearby table interjected.

I rolled my eyes as irritation overshadowed my feeling of betrayal.

I pointed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. This boy didn’t deserve my full attention. “And I think you should sit down and eat your cholesterol-ridden breakfast. This has nothing to do with you.”

I could see from the corner of my eye that he was still standing, looking for trouble. If only I had the time or the care to deal with the backlash of social media.

“What now?” I growled, finally looking at him while keeping my grip on Esmeralda’s delicate wrist.

“I think the lady doesn’t want to go with you,” the jock said, tilting his chin up.

“Doesn’t she? You didn’t seem to be that bothered about her consent when you were harassing her to get her number. Also, not that it has anything to do with you, but she is my fiancée.” I squeezed her wrist almost involuntarily.

“I–” He looked at Esmeralda. “Vicky?”

I snorted. “We don’t have time for this Esmeralda…” I tried to put as much threat as I could into this statement. I would not be humiliated any more than I already had been.

She nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

I let go of her wrist, her soft skin too tempting. I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. She’d gone to extreme lengths to disappear, risking so much, and yet after a single request, she was giving in? It made no sense.

“Esmeralda…” I warned. “If this is one of your tricks, I–”

She shook her head, taking my hand. “No, no tricks. Let’s go.”

I nodded once, shaking her hand off before gesturing her toward the door.

She rushed behind the counter, apologized to the owner, grabbed her handbag, calmly followed me outside, and got into the car without a fight.

I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like I was following her plan instead of mine. We’d tracked her here and yet she sat beside me in the car as if she was the predator instead of the prey.

I didn’t want to engage more with her in the state of anger I was in. She’d turned out to be more conniving than I’d thought and I realized that I had a tendency to give her more than I wanted to.

“You know I’m taking you back to Stonewood, right?” Give me fear. Beg. Anything, I willed her.

She nodded, aloof enough to infuriate me even more.

“Do you think you’ll get away again?” I snorted. “Because let me tell you, you won’t – not unless I will it.”

She turned toward me, looking at me with the thoughtful gaze I’d come to both cherish and hate. There was so much going through her head but she was so different, such an anomaly. I couldn’t anticipate her, which made me uncomfortable and I hated that feeling.

I was Caleb Astor. Nothing got to me… at least nothing had until her.

Chapter 1:

Today had been a shitty day. I had to go visit Grand Mere in Neuilly. I had to listen to her go on endlessly about my mandatory attendance to the Debutante ball in the Spring to choose a conventional spouse. I was only twenty, but I was not dating enough; people talked and my grandmother wanted to shut them up.

‘Gays are abominations meant to populate hell,’ she had spat one day when one of the aristocrats close to our family had revealed his homosexuality. If anybody in my family was such a creature, they would be cut off from everything.

I sighed again at the memory. That was the issue wasn’t it? I was what she hated the most and ironically, I was her favorite grandson. I looked around my thousand square feet, state of the art apartment in one of the most prized neighborhoods of Paris. The problem was I liked the money too much. I liked the easy life and nothing had yet come to trump that – even though keeping my secret was slowly killing me inside.

I sat on the windowsill of my third floor two-bedroom apartment on Boulevard St. Germain and looked at the busy Parisian street illuminated by tens of different colors. The cheerful Christmas lights almost managed to make you forget about the grayness of Paris in winter.

I sighed, letting my eyes wander, following a woman with a red coat. She pulled a reluctant child down the street, trying to dodge the people with their arms full of their Christmas shopping.

I shook my head. That was the masochist part of Christmas, whether here in France or back in the US. I’m sure Tay was experiencing the same in England. People always waited until the last few weeks to do their shopping. Me? I did my shopping online because contrary to popular belief, I’d never been a fan of crowds.   

As I took a sip of my Midnight Mint hot chocolate, my phone rang to the familiar tone of ‘Shake it off’, the ringtone assigned to Taylor Oppenheimer, my best friend, my person, my soulmate in so many ways. The girl who did everything to help me, including faking a relationship with me.

I smiled. “Lover.”

“Are you drunk?”

I chuckled, “Not yet, no, but the night’s still young, and I got double the dose of crème de menthe in my hot chocolate, so…one can hope.”

“Long day?” she asked and the concern in her voice was clear.

I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

“Yeah. The exams were harder than anticipated and I’m just tired.”

“Okay.” I knew she didn’t believe me, but she knew me well enough to know when she needed to quit.  “I’m returning your missed call. Also, who does that? Cold call people? We text man! We’re not fifty.”

I chuckled. “I missed your voice.” I said it as a joke, but it was true. I knew a lot of people here. Actually, I was rarely alone, but I sometimes felt very lonely, terribly so. Taylor was one of the only people who saw past most of my walls, and it made her so unique, so important to me. I loved her truly.

“What do you need?” she asked as I heard her bounce on a bed.

“Now that exams and classes are done, I was wondering when you’re planning on flying home, so I can take the same flight. Heathrow, right? So we can suffer traveling like paupers together.”

She chuckled. “You know that travelling first class is not pauper, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “But it’s not a long-haul private jet either, is it?”

“I’m going back on the twenty-third. I’ve got an internship.”

“Oh, Do you? Is this internship called ‘avoiding Archibald Forbes’?”

She was silent for so long on the other end of the line that I would have thought she’d hung up if it wasn’t for the soft music in the background.

I took another sip of my now luke-warm chocolate and looked out of the window again. A couple exited the Brasserie across the street, hand in hand.

“It’s been two years, Tay. You’ll have to face him one day.”

“I have an internship,” she replied stubbornly, but I knew better. She had managed to dodge returning to Stonewood for the past two years. She’d convinced her family to come spend the holidays with her the year before, and subsequently, she’d spent the summer with them on a rented yacht touring the Greek Island.   

“You’re full of shit.”

She snorted. “Look who’s talking.”

I nodded. “Touché.”

“I didn’t mean that,” she corrected almost immediately. “You do what you need to do, A. I’ll love you always.”

“I know, babe, likewise.”

She yawned and I smiled tenderly. I could picture her balled up on her king size bed, listening to some cheesy music like Redhead sheeran. “Speak to you soon, lovely. Thanks for calling back.”

“Anytime.” She yawned again. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I replied softly, but the line was already dead.

I spent the next couple of hours looking for flights home, but knowing that Tay would not be coming back with me left me unmotivated to really try. I’d seen my friends recently anyway. Caleb and Esme had stayed with me a few days during the Thanksgiving Break as Caleb had wanted to show her Paris. Archibald had come with,  albeit really sullenly because every time he came, he failed to see Taylor .

I sighed again, looking around my empty apartment. The silence and loneliness of the place was deafening…overbearing.

Was this what my life was bound to become?

“Fuck that shit!” I muttered, changing from my PJs to a pair of skinny jeans, tight shirt, and leather jacket.

Tonight I wouldn’t wallow in self pity. No, tonight I was going out, drinking, and fucking in that order.

And tomorrow? I couldn’t care less about tomorrow.

Chapter 1 – Cassie 

They say everybody wants to be famous, be on the covers of the newspapers. That any press is good press, but that is a load of crap! 

The press had been nothing but a curse for me and my little brother, Jude. We were Cassandra and Jude West, the children of the Rivertown Murderers. 

These people… My parents used their small investment firm to embezzle the retirement funds of more than fifteen thousand people in ten years and they had also murdered thirty-two elderly people in an attempt to cover their tracks. 

My face, half hidden behind my messy red hair as I walked out of the court during the trial, even made the first page of our regional paper and I had wanted to disappear on that day. I was not going to court to support them. I was going there—I was not sure why I was going there. 

Maybe part of me hoped they would have the decency to apologize to me and Jude for destroying our lives and making us pariahs because the stigma we were carrying was a heavy cross to bear.

I let out a sigh of relief when my father was sentenced to life without parole and my mother to forty yearsI was there to make sure this whole nightmare would finally end and they would end their lives behind bars. 

I didn’t miss the glares directed my way by the families of the victims every time I took my seat in the back of the room. People didn’t believe that the twenty-year-old daughter of these two sociopaths didn’t know something was wrong, and even if I genuinely had no idea, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had I missed anything? Were there signs? 

When I exited the court after the verdict, I looked at my watch and groaned. I only had one afternoon with Jude per week and this final day of trial stole two precious hours from it. 

It has been four months since my life—our lives—spiraled into hell. We had no other family and social services declared I was not fit to take care of my brother and I couldn’t deny it. I was broke; I had to drop out of nursing school, and I was now sleeping on the uncomfortable futon of our old maid who was one of the only people showing me a little compassion. 

I rushed to catch the bus. I had to get to the Home soon as visitation ended at five p.m. 

Seeing my baby brother only an afternoon a week was breaking me. I missed him so much and I was worried sick; he was only ten, way too young to have to deal with all of this. 

No one should be dealing with all of this. 

When I arrived, Amy, the social worker dealing with Jude’s case, was pacing in front of the door. 

“I thought you would not make it,” she said, pulling me into the visitation room. 

“I know!” I gasped breathlessly. “Thank you for waiting.” 

She gave me a small smile. “You deserve someone cutting you some slack,” she said gently, bringing tears to my eyes. 

I was so unused to kindness recently. I had been lucky when she had been assigned my brother’s case. We’d been in the same high school even if she had been a senior when I joined and it created a sort of kinship that I was beyond grateful for. 

She opened the side door and spoke to someone; the door opened wider and my brother rushed in. 

“Cassie!” he shouted, running into my arms. 

I hugged him tightly. He was so short and frail. He might have been ten, but he didn’t look older than seven. He was my little man though; our parents had always been emotionally distant. It has always been Jude and me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be late,” I told him, caressing his dark-blond hair softly. 

He kept his arms around me and lifted his eyes, looking at me with his big, sad green eyes—much too weary for a little boy his age. 

“Are we okay now?” he asked with a small voice. 

I nodded. “Yes, we are. They’re not coming back.” I frowned, noticing the small bruise on his jawline. “What’s that?” I asked, brushing my fingers on it. 

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I fell.”

I looked up to Amy who looked at us with so much sorrow it cracked my heart open even more. I had to get him out of here. 

“I’ll take you home as soon as I can, li’l man. I swear I will.” 

“I know, Cassie. It’s okay. I’m okay here.” 

No, you’re not. You’re miserable, but you’re trying to be strong for me when you shouldn’t have to, I thought. “I know but I miss having you with me so I want to get you back as soon as possible.” I forced a smile I hoped looked genuine. “Who’s supposed to help me sample brownies now, huh?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sort of an expert.” 

I chuckled. “Yes, you are.” 

Amy sighed. “I’m sorry, guys, but Jude has to go back now.” 

I looked up and she looked really crestfallen. I was sure she had a soft spot for Jude, but then again, who didn’t? 

I nodded. “I’ll see you next week and we can video chat this week sometimes,” I said before throwing a quick look at Amy who nodded. She did that every week for us, using her own phone to allow Jude and I to talk for a few minutes. That woman really was a godsend and at least she helped us make this horrible situation just a little better. 

“Love you to the moon and back,” he said, hugging me tightly again. 

“Love you to the sun and back,” I replied, kissing the top of his head, already feeling the burn of my unshed tears at the back of my eyes. 

After he left, Amy turned toward me. 

“What really happened?” I asked, knowing full well that Jude’s bruise was not an accident. 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Kids have been tough on him,” she admitted reluctantly. “Being related to…” She winced. “It’s a heavy cross to bear.”

“I know. I’m planning to change our name as soon as I can get him back.” I sat on one of the uncomfortable orange chairs lining the visitation room. 

I knew I had to leave. There was no reason for me to still be here; the center was now closed to the public, but I just needed a few minutes. 

A few minutes with someone who looked at me, not as an accomplice to the monsters my parents were, but as one of their victims. 

“I’m just not convinced that day will ever come,” I admitted, and saying it out loud hurt more than I anticipated. 

“So they refused to take you back, huh?” she asked, coming to sit beside me, gripping my hand in hers. 

I nodded. “Yes, I can’t blame them though. The hospital had a hard time justifying my presence there and since nursing school kicked me out.” I shrugged. “What was the point of me working there anyway?” 

“We can fight their decision, you know. I looked into it and they had no grounds for dismissing you.”

I shook my head. “What’s the point? No one wants me there. The students look at me like I am a monster, the teachers too. And even if I force it, I need hospital training and no hospital will offer that to me.”

“Yeah.” She nodded with resignation. “What about your living situation?” 

“Still squatting on Mrs. Broussard’s futon.” I’d never been more grateful in my life. Mrs. Broussard had been working for my parents since I was five years old and when everything turned to shit, she’d been the only one offering me the helping hand I desperately needed despite her own children’s advice. “I need to give her back her space and stop eating her food.” I looked heavenward. “Nobody is willing to hire me in this town but—” I looked at the door connected to the living quarters my little brother occupied. “I just can’t leave; he needs me.” 

“You remember Ms. Lebowitz, don’t you?” 

I looked at her with confusion at the change of subject. “The high school career counselor?” 

She nodded. “She retired but I know she’s working part-time for the temp agency by the pharmacy.” Amy shrugged. “She always had a soft spot for her old students. Why don’t you go see her?” 

Ms. Lebowitz had been an older lady, an eccentric hippy, but she’d always seen more than she let on. She had known even then that I’d been the one caring for Jude. She was the one who suggested nursing school after seeing my caring nature. 

“I like her. It’s worth the shot.” I looked at my watch; it was much past the time and I didn’t need Amy to get into trouble and have Jude removed from her care due to her involvement with me. “What about Jude and his bruises?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve moved him into a room with younger kids. He’s okay now.” She answered my unspoken thoughts. 

I threw her a grateful look. “I need to go now. I have to grab my bus.” 

“Let me drive you home, please.” 

I nodded. The bus ride to Mrs. Broussard’s was going to take more than forty-five minutes, and I had to admit that, after the draining day I had, I was more than grateful to accept. 

“Why are you so nice to me”? I asked Amy as we took to the road. “Not that I’m not eternally grateful but—p”

She shrugged. “Call it empathy. I’ve seen you before at the hospital; you genuinely cared about the patients, and the way your brother talks about you? You’re his whole world. I’ve seen a lot of mean, heartless people in my line of work and you’re not one of them. You’re caring and loving and so obviously unaware of your parents’ monstrosities” She threw me a quick look full of concern. “You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are so if I can help ease this injustice just a little…I will.”

I looked away, blinking back my tears. Her words somehow gave me hope. Maybe others would see it too. Maybe others would cut me some slack and help me get Jude back. 

Yes, tomorrow was another day and I would turn the tide, no matter the sacrifices. 

For Jude.