Trouble

“I mean, she’s not native—not that it matters.”

“She’s the same thing as Cher, right?”

“Right, they’re Armenian.”

Ms. Alice slaps the table, sitting straighter. “Are you telling me Cher’s not… but she had that song where she dressed up like… and her hair…”

“If it helps, Armenians are still considered a minority group.”

She takes a moment as her worldview shifts, and I stand, going to my mom. “My work here is done. I’m going to see if I can sleep another hour.” Kissing her forehead, I go to Ms. Alice. “Sorry if I upset you.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m going to buy some more of these girdles and help that little girl out.”

Chewing my lip, I can’t hold back. “Kim Kardashian is a billionaire now. I think she’s going to be okay.”

“A billionaire! Mother of pearl!” She clutches her chest, and I press my lips together, fighting a laugh. “Maybe I need to start making stretchy girdles.” I’m starting to go when she catches my hand. “Hey, Sly—have you seen that old book of ours? The Fireside Women’s Society book? Daisy thought you might have it.”

My heart jumps, and I hope she doesn’t see the guilt on my face. “Ahh… I don’t know. It might have gotten mixed up in my stuff. I can check.”

“Well, if you do, just bring it back next time you come. I don’t want anything to happen to it. That book is a historical record. It’s a powerful thing when women come together to help each other.”

“I’ll look for it.” I’m retreating quickly when my mother calls after me.

“Joselyn?” I pause at the base of the stairs. “You deserve to be treated like a queen. If he can’t see that, you’re better off without him.”

“Thanks, Ma.” I give her a smile. “And thanks for helping with Ollie. I know I kind of sprung him on you this week.”

“He’s a little doll, and I love Chartreuse. What an amazing frog!”

“You’re weird.”

Climbing the steps to my bedroom in the early haze, I know I’m not going to sleep anymore. I’m too keyed up from everything that has happened. I’m considering taking a long bubble bath when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Sliding it out, my heart squeezes at the sight of his name above a text glowing on the screen. Why aren’t you in my fucking bed? What gave you the idea you could leave before I woke?

He’s pissed I’m gone, and I exhale a laugh, shaking my head as I tap out a reply. You were sleeping so well, I didn’t want to wake you.

Gray dots float, and I hesitate outside the bedroom Courtney shares with her son. I almost wish we could stay here, where it’s safe. But then I’d be too far from my beast.

Spencer’s text appears. You don’t leave without telling me.

My lips press into a sad smile, and I know what I have to do. He’s not giving me a choice. Are you saying we’re in a relationship? I hit send, knowing what his answer will be.

His reply is quick. No.

Am I going to be your massage therapist?

Another quick reply. Yes.

Then I won’t be in your bed again. I don’t sleep with clients.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I decide I won’t reply to any more texts until I get some perspective… and a soak in some lavender-scented water.

I’m kind of falling in love with him, but I won’t give him all the power.

Like my mom said, men will do what they want until you

make them decide. I know Spencer, and I know he appreciates things of value.