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Hey, it’s Eve. Just wanted to say thank you for driving me home. And for getting my car back to me. I appreciate it.
I hesitated, but it was a good, noncommittal, testing-the-waters sort of message. I pressed ‘send’ and waited.
The message receipt changed to ‘read,’ and I held my breath while the little bubbles that indicated he was typing popped up. They disappeared after a few moments, but no reply came through.
I frowned and tapped out a new message.
Eve
Do you have time for a coffee tomorrow? I owe you one.
I considered adding a smiley face to the end of it but didn’t want to be over the top. Plus, smiling emojis weren’t really my thing. The one with the devil horns got a good workout, though.
Again the message changed to ‘read’ and little bubbles appeared. This time, his message pinged through almost instantly.
Boston
Why? Did you want your dildo back? How did you even get this number?
I groaned and tossed my phone onto the bed in frustration. “Dammit.”
I retrieved the phone again and held down the button to record a voice message. “Yeah, about that. I thought you were arresting me again. And I was kind of pissed off about it. Have you noticed that I’m somewhat impulsive? It’s a problem. I’m working on it.”
I sent the message through and got up to pace the room, unable to sit still.
He didn’t reply.
I tried again.
Eve
I’m sorry.
Still no reply.
Eve
I’ll make it up to you? Not with lap dances this time. I’ll even wear clothes. Ha ha.
I tapped my foot on the thick carpet of my bedroom, hating that it was taking him so long to respond. Hating my own impatience. Why couldn’t I be a normal woman, who could just let things go? Why had I brought up the attempted lap dance again? That had gone down like a sinking ship last time. God, I was an idiot around this man. I had no idea why he got me so frazzled.
I pounced on my phone when it finally buzzed.
Boston
I’m at a stakeout, Eve. I don’t have time for this.
I stared at that message for a long time. He had every right to dismiss me. But it still annoyed me. “Fine,” I muttered to my cat. “I tried. That’s all I can do.”
But a sick sense of disappointment settled low in my belly. One I instinctively knew wouldn’t disappear anytime soon.
* * *
My day went from bad to worse. I obsessively checked my phone every hour for more texts from Boston, but it remained obnoxiously blank. About five, I got a message, but it was only my mother, summoning me to dinner at her place. My first instinct was to decline. To say I had to work or help friends or wash my hair. But I already knew no excuse would be good enough for her and then I’d just have to listen to her harp on about how I never made time for her. She loved nothing better than a guilt trip. Plus, I hadn’t seen my brothers in weeks. And if I was being summoned, they likely were, too.
My mum’s place in the center of Saint View was exactly as I remembered it from my childhood. Run-down and tiny. I hadn’t lived here since I was sixteen when I started stripping, only coming back for the family dinners my mother insisted on.
I dragged in a deep breath, giving myself a mental pep talk. I could do this. My mother was toxic, but I was a grown-ass woman. I could get through a few hours in her presence.
