Page 63 of Play Dirty

I can’t imagine she would do something like that.

Could she possibly be that self-absorbed?

“I…” Gabe seems speechless, which is rare for him. “Is that even in the realm of possibility?”

The crazy thing is, I don’t know.

Chapter20

Stevie

The next fewdays are harried and filled with unexpected obligations.

Taking care of Ally while we wait for Canyon and Saylor to get back from San Diego.

Handling a problem at the gallery since Saylor is out of town.

A casting call for a role in a prime-time television show—I’m positive I won’t get it, but the fact that they came asking for me personally means people are talking about me again. Professionally, that’s important.

And a photo shoot for the cover of a local magazine that focuses on women and mental health. They also did a feature interview with me, which means a headlining article about what happened to me.

I haven’t done any press about it at all, but this felt like the right time and place. I want other women to understand what I went through and not be afraid—or embarrassed—to ask for help.

I’m sure I’ll get more interview requests once the story releases next month, but I haven’t decided if I’m doing anymore. Do I really want to keep talking about what happened to me? The trauma of not just having a miscarriage but also the subsequent hysterectomy needed to save my life? Does the whole world need to know I can’t have children?

The news is out there if you take the time to dig, but I don’t bring it up if I don’t have to.

I don’t even know if Damien knows, and though I don’t care what he thinks, the prosecutor thinks it will be impactful for me to talk about it at the trial.

Damien tried calling me from prison before he was released on bail, but I haven’t heard from him in a long time. My attorney slapped a restraining order on him so fast it probably felt like whiplash, and my hope is to never talk to him again.

Except his trial is coming up and I’m the star witness.

Thewitness.

I’m also the victim.

But I fucking hate that word.

The last thing I want to do is spend days—maybe even weeks—in a New York courtroom recounting the details of that day.

He could potentially go free if I don’t, so it’s not optional, but I’m dreading it.

My closest friends—Chey and Ivan, Saylor and Canyon, Effie—have all promised to be there but there are no guarantees. Chey and Ivan will probably testify, but otherwise, the guys have hockey and the ladies all have jobs, so I could very well be there alone, with no one but the prosecutor to hold my hand. And she won’t. She’s as tough and badass as they come, but she’s not my emotional support attorney.

I’m running on the treadmill, lost in thought, and I can’t help but wonder if Marty might be able to go with me. I don’t know what’s going on with us, though.

I haven’t seen him in four days, since we picked up Ally from that sleepover. His mom is leaving tomorrow, so our time to be alone will be limited. His kids are lovely, but I like having adult time with him too. Date night.

Sexy times.

The fact that we still haven’t done the deed makes me want to giggle.

First, he was reluctant.

Then me.

Then him again.

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