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His fingers release me, and I feel cold when I climb out of the car. He’s warning me that if I push Ronan away too hard, he will step back and let me go. The idea has bile rising in my throat and a hard pit sitting low in my stomach. I just don’t want to admit to myself why that is.
Chapter Four
FIONA
Tiggy’s son,CillianFitzpatrick, is just about the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen. She places him in my arms and flutters around her stone and terracotta kitchen, looking like a queen.
It’s so unfair that she looks perfect even while moaning about her exhaustion. Cillian doesn’t yet sleep through the night.
“And how are things with you, Fi?” she asks once she’s settled at last, sipping a cup of herbal tea.
Ugh. Can’t we talk more about Cillian’s feeding schedule? I don’t want to dump all my shit on her. Tiggy reads me like a book, throwing me a look that says she will nag until I whinge.
I grimace at her before smiling fondly at her son as he sleeps peacefully in my arms.
“Struggling to make rent, as usual,” I sigh. Tiggy’s lips tighten as she surveys me over the top of her mug. “Ronan is still being an asshole about limited sets, no going topless, and no lap dances. It makes things hard.”
Tiggy nods, studying me carefully again. “Have you ever thought about seeing if you can pick up a few shifts as a bartender? I’m sure Mellie would love to train you.”
I glare at Tiggy as she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m a stripper, Tiggy, not a bartender.”
I speak a little more harshly than I intended, and she sighs tiredly, raising a hand in apology.
“I know,” she tries for a soothing tone. “And what Ronan is doing is wicked sneaky. But there’s nothing wrong with being a bartender.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a stripper, either.”
Tiggy sighs again. “I didn’t say that there was. But Ronan doesn’t want you to be one, and he’s the one laying down all these rules, giving you limited sets. What’s the harm in asking Mellie for some shifts at the bar so you can still make rent?”
“Because I refuse to let him win.”
Humor and tiredness war for dominance on Tiggy’s face. “I don’t think it’s about anyonewinning….”
She uses her “social worker” tone, which has my eyes narrowing dangerously. Tiggy notices and immediately starts backpedaling.
“I mean, would it be so bad to give in and let him have what he wants?”
“Yes,” I reply shortly.
Tiggy sighs, giving up the topic and switching to talking about Cillian’s feeding schedule. It’s probably smart if she doesn’t want me to storm out of here.
I don’t care if everyone else sees me stubbornly refusing to give in to Ronan’s campaign to stop me from being a stripper as childish. It’s a matter of principle for me.
If Ronan justtalkedto me – like I’m an equal, not an employee, an insubordinate, or a child – maybe I would ask Mellie for some bartending shifts.
If he sat me down and laid his cards on the table. If he told mewhyhe didn’t want me to be a stripper andaskedme not to be… I wouldn’t be a stripper anymore. I’m not married to the profession. Sometimes it really sucks.
But if he’s going to stubbornly go about it in this sneaky, underhanded manner that takes my choice away? I’m going to demonstrate mychoicefor as long as I can.
I should go. Giving Cillian one last hug, I hand him back so I can get the bus.
“Hey there, sweetie!” Tiggy coos over her son as I grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, and walk out of the kitchen.
Liam lounges against the wall in the hallway, toying with his phone. He shoves upright, dropping it into his pocket, and falls into step with me as I glare at him.
“Don’t you have other people you should be off annoying? Like, Ronan, for instance?” I snipe at him. Liam flashes me one of his handsome, easy grins.
“You know, if you’re going to be my mom one day, you should be nicer to me,” he drawls. I flip him off.
