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I let him lead me out onto the floor, passing Lauren with a brush against her arm so she sees me.
I still haven’t met his eyes, but I let him pull me close, his warm hand spread against my back. The music settles in my body and my hips sway from side to side with the beat, Danny matching me. I reach my arms up to rest them on his shoulders, my eyes drifting closed as we dance. For a second, I expect to feel Teddy’s solid shoulders under my arms, anticipating the muscled form I’ve learned over the last few weeks. Danny’s smaller frame takes me by surprise and I pull back.
To cover up my movement, I take his hand and turn underneath it, pressing my back to his chest instead. Maybe if I don’t have to look at him I can pretend I’m enjoying myself.
Grateful that the music is too loud to talk, I sway with the beat, my mind racing.
How can I afford to pay for Emma’s hospital bill?
I can’t reduce my expenses—there’s nothing to cut back. I buy the bare minimum of groceries to feed us, and we don’t splurge on extras.
The only real option is to make more money. I’ve always turned down the offers from various managers at Mailbox to steal me away from my position, not wanting to take on a job that would require more overtime or responsibility. With Jake’s income added to mine, I hadn’t needed the extra money so badly that it had been worth giving up my writing and mom time.
And if I’m being perfectly honest, I had been too scared of failure at a different kind of job to pursue it. I’m good at my position. Excellent, even. So what if there’s no real opportunity to make more money there. It’s safe. Just like staying with Jake, as unhappy as we were, was safe.
Jesus Christ, why am I like this?
Why am I so scared of putting myself out there?
I am a total fucking coward.
My throat tightens and I know that tears are imminent. The humiliation of not being able to pay for my drink, combined with the self-loathing brought on by my alcohol-induced introspection, is sending me into the depths of helplessness.
I can’t stop the crying I know is about to happen. The only thing I can do is let it wash over me and pray that Danny doesn’t turn me around until I can get it under control.
So I stop fighting it. I let the tears well up and flow down my cheeks, still dancing. Danny’s hands are roaming over me, skating along my sides and hips. His thumb brushes against the underside of my breast and fresh tears trickle down.
This was not the life I wanted.
Humiliated.
Lonely.
So desperate for distraction that I’m dancing with a man I feel nothing for, rather than let the man I want take care of me.
Lauren swings by but doesn’t notice my tears, probably because the guy she’s dancing with has his lips locked with hers. I’m not mad, this is my own fault. I could have pursued a better-paying job months ago when I first left Jake. I should have checked to make sure that Emma’s health insurance was still up to date, not trusted Jake to be on top of it.
I shouldn’t have pushed Teddy away.
The tears aren’t stopping. In fact, the thought of Teddy’s crestfallen face when I turned down his help has them coming harder and faster until I can’t pretend anymore and I stop dancing, a sob escaping me.
“Whoa, are you okay?” Danny’s concern only makes me cry harder.
I shake my head and push away from him, aiming for the doors of the club. Someone catches my elbow, stopping me.
“Soph, what’s wrong?” Lauren’s face is scrunched with worry. “Did someone hurt you? Who was it? Was it that creepy guy?” I can’t do anything but shake my head, my throat too thick to speak.
“He’s fine.” I manage to get out between hiccups. “I just need to go home.”
“You can’t go home like that, you’ll scare Emma.” Lauren steers me toward a table by the door. “Wait here while I close my tab. I’ll be right back.”
I swipe a napkin off the table, then lean against the edge, wiping my eyes and attempting to calm down. I keep my eyes down, not wanting to know how many people are staring at the old woman who came to the club and cried on the dancefloor.
“Are you okay?” Danny’s loafers step into my line of sight. “You scared me.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m a mess tonight.”
He reaches out to touch my arm, startling me into looking up. “I’m sorry if I did anything that was inappropriate or…”
