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“Samantha.”

I shook my head.

“Samantha, don’t leave like this.”

“No.” My voice cracked. “If he asks me to marry him, I’m saying yes.”

Dad looked exhausted. Then he slowly nodded.

“If that’s your decision, I can’t support it.”

His disapproval hit me so hard I could barely breathe. I nodded once.

“Then I guess we’re done.”

“Samantha, I’m trying to help you.”

I turned away.

“Samantha!”

His voice followed me across the restaurant.

I did not look back.

Chapter 16

Maggie

Iwoke up alone, curled tight in the middle of the bed with my face buried in the collar of Richard’s dress shirt.

The fabric had lost most of his cologne weeks ago, but a faint trace still clung to it. It was something expensive that made my chest ache every single time. I inhaled anyway, eyes closed, pretending for one stupid second that he was still here. Then I forced myself up. The apartment was too quiet. I padded to the window in nothing but the shirt and looked down at the parking lot. A dark sedan rolled past. My stomach flipped. It wasn’t his.

“Jesus, Maggie,” I muttered, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. “Get a grip.”

I made instant coffee, the cheap kind that tasted like burnt dirt, and stood at the counter staring at the calendar stuck to the refrigerator door. Little red X’s marked the nights I’d seen him. Gaps between them had grown wider. I started counting the days since the last time, then stopped. I didn’t want the number in my head. This was my new routine now. I still danced. I didn’t hate it. Never really had. The lights, the music, the way my body knew exactly what to do after years of practice. But the rest of it was gone. No more clients.

“Dance if you want.” Richard said. “But no more clients.”

I had laughed at first, thinking he was marking territory the way men do. Then I realized he wasn’t joking. So I stopped.

The money showed it. Stripping alone barely covered rent. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter stared back at me every morning. Electricity. Water. Credit card. One client tonight. Two hours, tops. I could clear most of it. My hand hovered over the drawer. Instead I shoved the bills inside and slammed it shut.

I sat at the tiny vanity applying makeup, talking to myself like always. Living alone does that to you.

“He wouldn’t even know if I took one,” I told my reflection, blending dark shadow along my lash line. “He’s not here. He never calls.”

The brush paused.

“No. He’d know.”

Would he? Probably not. But the guilt hit me anyway. They were just money. Now the idea made my skin crawl.

I finished getting ready, slipped into my coat, and walked to the bus stop a few blocks away. When the bus pulled up I climbed on, found a seat near the back, and rode the rest of the way to the club.

By the time I stepped inside, Ron spotted me almost immediately. He lifted his drink in my direction with that same hungry smile. He was tall with thinning blond hair and crooked teeth that showed when he smiled. Between sets he waved me over like always.

“You free after?” he asked.