She exhaled, her voice shifting, lighter now.“So, listen.Rosh Hashanah is coming up.Will you join us this year?”
I blinked, caught off guard.Normally I dodged that question, year after year, but my walls were thin today, paper-thin.“Uh… yeah,” I said before I could stop myself.“I’ll come.”
Her delight was immediate, bubbling through the phone.“Oh, sweetheart, that makes me so happy.Your father will be over the moon.”
I rubbed my forehead, but my smile stayed.
“And speaking of family,” she continued, “Hannah’s bringing her new boyfriend over for dinner this Friday.Can you come too?”
“Can’t,” I said quickly.“I’ve got work.”
A pause, then a sigh.“One of these days, you’ll tell me what this mysterious work schedule of yours really is.”
“Maybe,” I said with a little laugh, though it came out tired.“Speaking of work, Mom, I really do have to go.”
“Alright, sweetheart.I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I hung up and let the phone drop onto the couch beside me.Then I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.For a minute, my mother’s voice had stitched me back together—but already the seams were loosening.
How was I supposed to drag myself onto a stage tonight and dance for men who didn’t know me, didn’t care about me, who didn’t even see the real me?
I curled up on the couch, dragging a pillow over my head like it could muffle the storm in my chest.Then I screamed into it, long and raw, until my throat burned.The sound was ugly, broken, almost feral.I flung the pillow across the room and it hit the wall with a soft thud, sliding down in defeat.My chest rose and fell like I’d just run a mile, but all I’d done was sit here drowning in my own damn misery.
What the hell was the matter with me?Henry Forrester was just another closet case.I’d met a hundred of them—men who wanted to taste freedom for a night and then slink back into the shadows by morning.Men who couldn’t bear the weight of who they were.Men who left me emptier than before.
But Henry… Henry wasn’t like the rest.I couldn’t deny the pull between us, couldn’t shake the memory of his hands on me, the way his body gave in even as his conscience fought back.He had a brilliant mind, a beautiful body, and all that Catholic guilt had made him burn hotter than anyone I’d ever touched.
For the first time in my adult life, I’d met someone I thought might actually stand shoulder to shoulder with me.My equal.Not just in the bedroom, but in the quiet spaces too, in the way his eyes saw right into me.And it was killing me—gutting me—to even think about letting that go.But I had to.
I couldn’t build a life out of someone else’s shame.
* * *
The bass thumped so hard I felt it in my bones, every beat rattling through my chest like a second pulse.Strobe lights flashed in rapid bursts, washing the room in neon pinks and blues, and the crowd pressed in tight around the stage, drinks sloshing in raised glasses.
A bachelorette party had practically taken over half the bar—sashes, tiaras, plastic diamond rings, the whole nine yards.Normally, those nights made me want to roll my eyes into another dimension.A bunch of drunk girls shrieking over mostly-naked men wasn’t exactly my scene.But tonight?Tonight their wild energy was a balm, something loud and silly to drown out the storm still raging in my chest after Henry.
I rolled my hips in time with the music, leaning into the edge of the stage, sweat slick on my skin, and the women went wild.One of them screamed, “Take it off, baby!”so loud my ears rang, and I couldn’t help but grin.
Then, before I even registered what was happening, two of them staggered forward, heels wobbling on the sticky floor, and scrambled onto the stage.“Oh, hell no,” I muttered, though my grin widened for the crowd’s benefit.The taller one immediately wrapped herself around my arm like we were old lovers, while the other grabbed my waist and tried to grind against me, hair falling into her smeared lipstick.
“Ladies, ladies,” I said, laughing through the mic clipped to my waistband.“Rule number one—no touching the merchandise.”
They howled at that, the crowd egging them on.
“Oh, come on,” the one on my arm slurred, her breath hot with tequila.“Just one dance!”
“You’re already dancing,” I shot back, wiggling my brows at her.“But my boss doesn’t pay me enough to let you break the rules.So unless one of you’s planning to stuff a fifty in my waistband…” I trailed off, holding my hands up like I was just the messenger.
That got another round of shrieks and laughter.
The shorter girl tried to pout, but it looked more like her face was melting.“You’re no fun.”
“I’m loads of fun,” I said, spinning away from her.“Fun you’re not allowed to have.”
They finally gave up, wobbling their way off the stage—until one of them misjudged the step.She let out a squeal and went down like a felled tree, tiara bouncing off her head and skittering across the floor.
