Page 6 of Don’t Say Mafia

And at first, it had been good.

We’d had our own apartment. It was small, but it was ours. He used to kiss me in the kitchen like we’d already made it, as though signing that lease had been the first real proof that we were different from where we came from. He told me it was just the beginning.

It had seemed like the truth when he’d come home one night grinning like a kid and said he’d gotten a job offer, one with good money and benefits. The company even paid for night classes so he could finally go to school like he’d planned.

Vegas sparkled at first. Even the rough parts felt temporary when we were new enough not to see the cracks. Ryan worked during the day and went to class at night, coming home exhausted but proud of himself. We ate cheap takeout on the floor and laughed about how one day we’d have real furniture, like that was just another milestone waiting for us.

But that was all before he’d become friends with some guys at work.

It started small with a few hands of cards after work and a drink here and there. He said it helped him unwind, that he’d earned it after working all day. I didn’t push back. I wanted to be the easy part of his life, not something else he had to fight.

Before long he was skipping classes, though. It was just one night at first . . . and then it was another. Ryan had said he’d catch up, and that school wasn’t going anywhere. But the cards turned into longer nights and the losses got bigger. The excuses came even faster.

Then he lost his job.

Ryan had come home talking too fast about how it was temporary and something better was going to come along. This was just a setback. I nodded and told him it was okay, that we’d figure it out together somehow.

But we never did.

I was the one who worked extra shifts at two different jobs. I was the one who smiled until my face hurt and pretended my feet didn’t ache. I was the one who cried and stressed about bills while Ryan stayed up late, chasing the big one he was sure would fix everything if he could just land it.

The bus rattled along, sunlight flashing through the windows, and I stared out at a city that seemed to glitter for everyone else. I adjusted my bag on my lap and straightened my shoulders, and that terrible thought slipped in before I could stop it.

Maybe I had turned out just like my mother . . .

By the time my shift started, I’d locked all my emotions down.

My smile was in place, my shoulders were back, and my tray was balanced just right. I moved through the casino the way you learn to move through any place that always wants something from you. Aware without looking nervous. Friendly without offering more than necessary. The floor vibrated beneath my feet, and lights flashed overhead as machines chimed in uneven bursts among the voices rising and falling in a constant artificial swell that never let you forget exactly where you were.

I was touched constantly. Fingers brushed down my wrist when I set down a drink. A hand lingered too close to my hip as I leaned away. Comments were murmured like they were doing me a favor just by noticing me.

I ignored it all.

I smiled. I kept moving.

I survived.

The bar was my next stop, and I wove between tables and bodies to get there, the air saturated with alcohol, money, and desperation. Theo glanced up as I approached, already grinning like this was his favorite part of the night.

Theo was handsome in a very specific way. He had dark hair he kept a little too long because he thought it looked better on camera, and he had a restless edge that suggested auditions and rejection emails and side hustles he swore were temporary. He bartended at night and chased acting roles during the day, always convinced his break was one good casting call away.

And who knew, maybe it was. We couldn’t all be as unlucky as me.

“Tell me you’re finally going to put me out of my misery,” he said as he slid the glasses I needed toward me.

“Never,” I replied, lifting the tray.

He leaned in, his elbows braced on the bar, and lowered his voice as though we were sharing something secret. “One of these nights, you’re going to say yes and finally let me take you out for a drink instead of carrying them. It’s my dream in life.”

I didn’t miss a beat. “My answer’s not going to change, Theo. You should get a better dream.”

He sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I keep hoping you’ll change your mind.”

“Hope is dangerous,” I said lightly. “Someone should have told you that at some point.”

He laughed because he thought I was joking and shook his head. “You’re going to be the death of me, Eden.”

I smiled politely and turned, not looking back even though I knew he was watching me walk away.