I spun and bolted to the bathroom. Panic gripped me as I yanked down my sweats and panties.
Crimson stained the fabric. Damn it. My period wasn’t due for three more days. Another cramp twisted deep, stealing my breath. I cleaned up as best I could, folded toilet paper into a makeshift pad, and hurried out.
Hugh was scrolling his phone, oblivious. I muttered a goodbye and rushed into the chilly air. Wind slapped my hot face as I scanned the street for Sharon’s car, trying to ignore the cramps tightening with every step.
The doctor had said I was healthy, but my heavy periods wrecked me two days each month. Work would be miserable, but I couldn’t afford to skip a shift. I had pads in my purse, and my uniform was black. I’d manage.
I pulled out my phone, forcing myself not to focus on the dampness soaking my underwear. The blood would stain my light gray sweats soon, but Sharon should be here any minute. Shehadto be.
“Come on,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my ear.
Voicemail. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. She was just late. She wouldn’t forget me—not after asking what time to pick me up.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk, clutching my dying phone and running through my options.
Calling Dad was obvious, but his cell was always off—like hers. Mandy lived too far, and her sister chauffeured her everywhere.
A group of guys passed. One looked at me too long, and shame burned hot under my skin.
My sweats were ruined for sure. Five more minutes and I’d be late for work. Cynthia would tear me apart, but what choice did I have? None—except wait and hope Sharon showed up. And something told me she wouldn’t.
Pain lanced my lower belly. I wrapped my arms around myself. What a day from hell!
I sank onto a bench and called Sharon again. This time the screen went black.
The tears came fast. I wasn’t a crier, but that was about to change.
No amount of steady breathing helped. Wetness streaked my cheeks, and I wiped at it with my jacket sleeve. I could walk to the diner, even in blood-stained sweats, but what would Cynthia say if she saw me like this? Compassion wasn’t in her vocabulary.
I sat on the bench for what felt like an hour. An engine roared as someone pulled into the lot. Too loud to be Sharon—just someone to witness me at my worst. I swiped at my cheeks with the back of my hand and ducked into my phone to hide my face.
Footsteps neared. When I looked up, my eyes collided with Asher’s.
He arched a brow. “Peque?”
CHAPTER NINE
Kaia
My first thought was that Sharon had sent him because she couldn’t come herself—but then why the bewildered look on his face?
“What are you doing here?” I asked, scrambling to pull myself together.
“I had lunch with my agent across the street.” He pointed to a redbrick building with square windows and a terrace. “Then I saw you and thought it was weird you were sitting out here alone.”
“I see.” I pressed my folded arms against my stomach, as if that could dull the pain. “This is my dance studio. Your mom was supposed to pick me up at twelve and take me to work, but she must’ve forgotten. Her phone’s off.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed. “Forgotten.”
“Yeah. And I’m…” The words caught, but he needed to know. He was my only chance of getting home.
He tipped his chin, urging me on. “You’re?”
“On my period. And I left all my stuff in your mother’s car.”
He exhaled hard. “Fuck. It’s almost two. You’ve been here since twelve?”
My chin quivered. “Almost two?” Work was already shot. Helplessness tangled with anger, tightening my chest. I was furious at myself for forgetting my bag and at Sharon for forgetting me.
