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The trendy lounge features moody lighting and cushiony chairs with music playing as an afterthought in the background. Professionals often come after a long workday in the big city, but the den-like setup is also perfect for men to sit around in search of their latest prey.
As I head toward the back, their eyes fall on me. Men glance over and watch in interest, like vultures who just spotted a new carcass to feed on. After years of exotic dancing in gentleman’s clubs, I’m more than used to leering from men. I’m composed as I strut through the lounge and join Melissa by the bar. She’s ordered me a cosmopolitan.
“Does Giovanni know you’ve got that dress on?” She whistles and then gives a small laugh. “You are feeling feisty today. First earlier with the girls and now you’re coming out for drinks? What’s gotten into you?”
I pluck the cosmo off the counter and swallow it in one gulp. A few droplets escape my mouth, but I wipe them away with my arm. The kind-faced bartender takes one look at me and knows to make me another.
“Hard day,” I say afterward.
“I told you not to let what Rochelle said get to you. Misery loves company.”
“How do you do it?” I ask. “How do you bear it?”
Melissa frowns, though she still sways slightly to the music. “Bear what?”
“Being married to Paul. This…thislife.”
“Lots of shopping sprees and trips to spas.” She laughs off her joke at first, but when she sees the lack of emotion on my face, her frown returns. “I’m really getting worried for you. What’s troubling you? It’s not the fertility stuff, is it?”
“I don’t know what it is anymore. It’s like the more time passes, the more every day feels unbearable. It’s like it never ends. It just…it gets worse.”
As the words fall from my lips, I regret saying them. I’ve never told anyone this aloud. Even with Tasha, I’ve censored myself to some degree. The times I’ve tried to put into words the emptiness, the sense of detachment, it’s like no one understands.
“You need a therapist,” Melissa says, stirring the little straw in her drink. I can tell by her reaction, how she shifts in her high-backed stool, she’s uncomfortable. We’re not close enough for talks this deep. “I see mine every Tuesday and Thursday. Some of the best money I’ve ever spent. Well, it’s Pauly’s money, but you get the idea.”
“Hey ladies, what’re we drinking tonight?”
A man pops up on either side of us, blocking us in with arms on the counter. Wide grins on their faces and interest sparking in their eyes, they have zero problem invading our space. The one on my end reeks of Axe cologne. I hold in my cough and glance to Melissa.
She seems grateful for the interruption. I guess I really did get too deep for her liking.
“We’re drinking cosmos. What’s in there?” She points at her guy’s glass.
In seconds, they’re locked into an exchange about the lounge and the tasty drinks they make. The guy hovering near me waits patiently for me to engage him. Instead, I ignore him, focusing on my drink and hoping he’ll get the hint to move on.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m not interested,” I say bluntly. “I’m married.”
“Lucky man. How’d he let you out of his sight? You’re the most beautiful woman here. I noticed as soon as you walked in.”
“I’m just having a drink with my friend. You should go. Youreallydon’t want to be seen talking to me.”
My warning comes off like a joke to him. He laughs and leans even closer. “Your husband the jealous type? I haven’t even bought you a drink yet.”
“Don’t.”
“Bartender,” he says. “Can you fix the beautiful lady another drink?”
I turn to Melissa. “How about we go find new seats?”
Her cheeks are rosy from the cosmopolitan. She merely giggles. “Oh, c’mon. This was your idea. We’re just sitting around having drinks. Nothing bad is happening.”
“Exactly,” the man says. His hand falls on my bare shoulder. He plays it off as an innocent touch, but as his palm glides over my skin, he’s clearly testing how far he can go. “I’m Noah, by the way. Are you ready to tell me your name?”
“No. Don’t touch me.”
“You’re uptight. Trouble in paradise? Why else would you come out this late in that dress if you’re supposedly married?”
