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that goes for you, too! I have to get going. Haul ass, both of you.”
Mila peeks out from her bedroom, her blue eyes wide with glee. “Swear jar, Mama.”
Grumbling, I take out a dollar from my wallet, which is laying on the table, and stuff it into the glass jar that is near full.
My roommate has titled it ‘Eve’s repentance’ and I glare at the words.
“I don’t see why you two get to profit from this,” I mutter as Ron shuffles into the room in a blue shirt and jeans, yawning.
“I’m an artist. I don’t see why I have to be up this early,” he complains loudly.
“Because you have a new art show and your manager-slash-boyfriend is a psychopath,” I remind him succinctly.
Ron has green eyes and fair skin, which he decided to compliment by dying his hair silver. He was a wreck when I showed up at his apartment five years ago, in response to his listing.
He was a struggling artist back then and was exceedingly reluctant to have a pregnant roommate. But where his life lacked stability, my impending arrival seemed to have helped him get more focused.
Kicked out by my parents when they found out that I got knocked up, I wasn’t any better than him, trying to pick up the pieces. I had to drop out of law school because I was cut off from my parents. The trust fund my grandmother left me was my only source of income back then, and I used it to build a life for myself.
Somewhere while trying to raise Mila and get back on our feet, Ron and I became best friends. He has his third art show today and I am happy for him.
But right now, he is being a pain in my ass.
“Can you stop yawning and get Mila?” I scowl. “Mila! You have two minutes to get down here or I will eat your breakfast.”
Of course, I am not going to eat her breakfast, but my daughter loves food, despite how skinny she is, and a second later, I hear a thud before she rushes into the room. “Don’t eat my food. Don’t eat my food.”
I sigh at Ron. “I’m going to miss it when she’s not this gullible anymore.”
He grins. “Hey, Mila. Fifty more dollars and you and I can go to Disneyland next month.”
Mila reveals her baby teeth in a grin. “I like Goofy. He’s funny.”
I just glare at the two of them.
Since Ron refuses to drive, I am the designated driver.
Dropping Mila off at school, I can’t help but feel a rush of pride. My daughter is smart for her age, and her teachers insisted she take some classes with the first grade students, focusing on math and English.
I’ve never regretted having her, I think as I drive Ron to the art gallery. I was always somebody who went with the flow. Practicing law was a passion of mine, and it stung when I had to quit it.
I was surprisingly good at Criminal Defense Law.
However, I am not without my skill set. I rented a building with a long-term lease and I went on to build and design my own dance studio. Hiring instructors wasn’t hard. It is in its fourth year now, and I offer up to twenty different styles of dance classes. I have everyone from children to senior citizens who attend classes here.
It’s a steady income that provides a good life for Mila and me.
My thoughts darken when I recall the meeting with Zayn from two days ago, and my fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
The fucking nerve.
He actually threatened to take me to court.
Knowing him, he would have gone through with it as well if I hadn’t relented. Not that I have heard a peep from him since.
Maybe he actually thought it through and decided he didn’t want to have the responsibility of a child after all.
“Bastard,” I hiss under my breath.
