What kind of person does that?

Not a woman who’s in love. Or even infatuated … And if I’d fallen out of infatuation in less than two months, that was pretty much it for me and Nate. Both of us deserved better, although I hadn’t decided what that should look like. It’d been fourteen years since I lived on my own. Was that why I’d been so eager to hook up with Nate? Fear of being alone?

Why was I falling into that trap?

I kind of liked the idea of doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. Maybe I should try eating ice cream for breakfast for a while, or color my hair bright red. Maybe I should buy a car that didn’t have a cleaning service logo on the side of it.

A red Miata. I’d always wanted one of those.

Now came the hard part.

“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” I said slowly. Nate frowned, his hand covered mine, squeezing it tightly.

“Babe, I think you’re overreacting.”

“No, it’s not—” I started to say, but then stopped myself. It’s not you, it’s me. Such a cliche, but in this case painfully true. Nate might not be perfect, but he was pretty great. He just wasn’t the man I wanted. All I could think about was Reese and how he’d felt between my legs.

Amazing.

I wanted to feel that again. Alive and awake.

Was I actually going to sleep with him? I really hadn’t decided … The thought definitely appealed. He wasn’t relationship material, but maybe I didn’t need a relationship just yet.

Maybe I just needed to get laid.

Yup. Ice cream for breakfast, color hair, get laid, buy Miata. Then more ice cream. I had a plan.

“London?”

I focused on Nate again, blinking rapidly. His face was so earnest, so full of concern.

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” I said firmly, and the words felt right. Slightly painful, but liberating, too.

He frowned.

“You’re breaking up with me?” he asked slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “Jesus, Loni. I get that I fucked up, but this seems kind of harsh.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “I’ve just realized that what I feel for you isn’t strong enough. I’m sorry. I wish I could change things—”

“It’s about Reese Hayes, isn’t it?”

I shook my head, although part of me knew I was lying.

“It’s about us,” I told him. “We just aren’t going to work, so it’s best to end it now.”

“I asked you to sleep with me, not marry me,” he snapped. “God, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Good question. I swallowed, because he was starting to look angry and I couldn’t blame him for that. But I couldn’t date someone out of guilt, either. Nope. A clean break was the only decent course of action.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said carefully. “There’s no future here and I respect you too much to lead you on.”

Nate threw his napkin on the table and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. His face was getting red and I realized I’d never seen him upset before. What Reese had told me about him ran through my mind, but I pushed it away. This was Nate. Sweet Nate. He was hurt, and no wonder. None of this was fair to him.

“What the fuck, Loni? You don’t want to lead me on? What the hell do you think you’ve been doing the last eight weeks? Is your cunt made of gold? Because I swear to God, women don’t pull this shit with me and get away with it.”

My mouth dropped open and I gasped. Nate didn’t talk like that. What on earth had happened here?

“Nate, I—”

“We’re over.” He stood, glaring at me. “I can’t believe how much time I wasted on you.”

Then he turned and walked away stiffly, rage all but radiating through the air around him.

Well. That was special.

I glanced around, hoping nobody had noticed our little scene. Amazingly they hadn’t, despite the fact that it’d felt pretty dramatic and spectacular to me. I’d just gotten publicly dumped and it sort of hurt. Why it hurt, I had no idea. He’d done to me what I’d planned to do to him, so what right did I have to feel anything but relief?

Just be glad it’s over.

The waiter walked over carrying two enormous platters of Mexican food, and I realized that not only had Nate dumped me, he’d stuck me with the bill, too. Always look on the bright side. Without Jess to feed, I wouldn’t have to cook for the next week. I’d just work my way through Nate’s jumbo carne asada entree.

“Can you wrap those up to go?” I asked the waiter. He cocked a brow, but wisely kept his mouth shut. I decided to give him a thirty percent tip, because someone should get something out of this date.

Then I took my overpriced takeout and swung by the grocery store, because I had ice cream to buy.

Ice cream and hair dye.

Two hours later I swirled in front of my bathroom mirror, a new woman.

Ruby Fusion.

I looked like Christina Hendricks on acid (okay, not quite as statuesque, and my boobs were smaller … but still very curvy!). The new hair was gorgeous. Crazy. Fun. I wondered if Reese would like it, and then decided I didn’t care, because I liked it.

That’s when it hit me.

For the first time in forever, I was doing something for myself.

It felt good.

The high lasted until about noon the next day, when I carefully sorted through my finances. Counting all my savings, the business emergency funds, and the secret vacation stash, I was still broke. Okay. So no new Miatas just yet. But if I got the contract for The Line, maybe I could revisit the idea in a year or two. Assuming Reese didn’t fire me.

Powerful motivation.

I’d just have to get that contract no matter what. So what if I had to sleep with him to do it … I’d just call it a bonus and roll with it.

Jessica got in touch right after I went to bed Tuesday night.

“Hey, Loni.”

“Hey there,” I responded, biting back the “So, I see your phone still works” comment hovering on my lips. Silence fell between us, all weird and uncomfortable.

“How are things with your mom?” I asked finally.

“Things are good, I guess. I mean, she isn’t here very much. She’s really busy with her friends and stuff, and she doesn’t like me to be around when her boyfriend comes home. I don’t have a car or anything, so I’ve just sort of been hanging out by the pool. They’ve got me in the guesthouse. There are a few others staying there, but I have my own room.”

“Well, I’m glad things are good,” I told her. “I want you to be happy.”

“I was wondering …”

“Yes?” “Do you think you could pack up some of my things and ship them down? I left all my clothes up there, and Mom has been loaning me shit, but I don’t feel quite right borrowing from her all the time.”

I glanced toward her bedroom door, wondering if I’d be a horrible person if I said I’d set all her things on fire. Yes. That would be horrible. Pity, because a small, hateful part of me wanted to hurt her.

But even with Ruby Fusion hair, I still had to be the adult.

“Sure, I can pack some things up—but not everything. That would cost a fortune to ship. If you want more, you can get a job and earn the money to pay for it. I’ll get some clothes for you, though.”

“And maybe some of my books and pictures?” she asked. “You know, like the scrapbook I made of the kids at the community center? I’m kind of missing them, especially since I didn’t get to say good-bye. I wanted to find somewhere else to volunteer, but Mom thought that was a bad idea.”

My heart softened a little. Amber was a Class A bitch, so staying with her had to be a punishment in and of itself. My Jessie girl had some hard lessons ahead of her.

“I’ll pack some things up and send them soon,” I told her firmly. “But it’s late and I need to sleep. I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Loni?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Wednesday morning I opened her bedroom door, midsized cardboard shipping box in hand. I’d come in here right after she ran away and picked up the worst of her mess from the tantrum, just so nobody would accidentally cut their feet on the broken glass. But beyond that I’d left everything untouched. Jess was a slob, and we’d come to an agreement years ago. She’d do her part to keep the rest of the house clean, and I’d stop bugging her about her bedroom.

The system had worked well for us.

Now I looked around, wondering where to begin. Most of her favorite things were strewn across the floor in dirty piles. I could either grab the things from her drawers (already clean) and pack them, or collect up what she really liked and give it a quick wash.

Well, she had said “thank you,” which was a big step up for Little Miss Entitlement.

I grabbed the dirty clothes, tossing them into the box like a makeshift laundry basket. I carried them into the kitchen, where a washer and dryer took up one corner. Then I started sorting through and checking the pockets.

That’s when I found the money.

A hundred-dollar bill, wrapped around a scrap of paper with a note on it.

Seven tonight, downtown. No bra, no panties.

What. The. Hell.

My hand trembled as the implications hit me. Jessica had some sort of secret boyfriend, the kind of man who gave her money. Enough money that she could afford to leave a hundred-dollar bill stashed in her pants.

Amber had boyfriends like that, too.

The thought made me sick, and I swayed, reaching out to clutch the counter. I stumbled into the living room, sitting down heavily on the couch, trying to think.

Mellie. She’d know what was going on.

The phone only rang once before she picked up.

“Hey, Loni,” she said, sounding pathetically eager to talk to me. I felt a twinge of guilt—I hadn’t given her much thought the past couple days, even though she’d spent two or three nights a week at my house over the last year.

“Hey, Mel. How are you?”

“Okay,” she replied. “I miss Jessica, though. I’ve tried calling her but she hasn’t answered. I guess she’s too busy doing cool things with her mom.”

Not so much, but I decided not to go there.

“Maybe. Hey, I was just going through some of her laundry and I found something strange. I thought I might ask you about it.”

“What?” Mellie asked, her voice cautious. I smelled a secret. Excellent. Now I just needed to get it out of her, which shouldn’t be too hard. Mellie never lied directly, only by omission.

“A note, along with a hundred-dollar bill. It’s from a man, making arrangements to get together with Jess downtown somewhere. Do you know of anyone she was seeing? Someone who would have a hundred bucks to spare?”

Mellie didn’t answer immediately, so I waited, letting the silence grow between us.

“I don’t know his name,” she said finally. “I mean, I know he’s older, but I don’t know any more than that. She said he was her sugar daddy. Said he took care of her.”

I sighed. “And you didn’t think that was relevant information to share with me when she went missing?”

“I didn’t want to get her in trouble,” Mellie replied, her voice miserable. “I knew how pissed you’d be, and I don’t think he had anything to do with her taking off. It’s not like he’s dangerous or anything—not like those bikers she hooked up with. She says he’s really good to her. And they didn’t start sleeping together until after she turned eighteen, at least not that I know of. She says he respects her.”

“Okay,” I said softly. I felt like I should press her for more information, but what was the point? God, this sucked. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Sorry,” Mellie whispered. “Hey, Loni?”

“Yes?”

“Can I come over to your place sometime? I sort of miss hanging out with you.”

“Sure, sweetie,” I told her, feeling my eyes start to water a little. “You’re always welcome here, okay?”

“Thanks,” she whispered. “You know how it is …”

“Yeah, baby, I know how it is. You’re safe here. Always. Just because Jessica left doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome.”

“Thanks, Loni.”

I hung up the phone and flopped back on the couch, wondering how I’d gotten to such a strange place in my life. I’d dumped my husband for Jess, and now Jess had dumped me for Amber. Then I dumped Nate.

I wouldn’t dump Mellie, I decided.

No matter what happened, she was a sweet kid and she needed all the support she could get. I wouldn’t fail her like I’d failed Amber and Jessica.

And yes, I know it was insane to think I failed them—you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving. Didn’t change how I felt.

The buzzer went off on the washer, reminding me that I had more clothes to push through. I needed to hit the grocery store for Reese, too. I’d go out to his place early, I decided. That way I wouldn’t have to see him, because despite my bold resolutions I wasn’t quite ready to confront him just yet.

I’d been through enough in the past twenty-four hours.

Reese’s motorcycle sat out in front of his house when I pulled up, along with his truck and a sporty little red convertible.

A Miata. My Miata. I seriously considered keying the car out of pure jealousy.

Make that jealousy and frustration, because not only had I failed to avoid Reese, he apparently had company. Best not to think about whoever might be driving that pretty little car, either, because I’d bet my morning ice cream it wasn’t one of his club brothers.