Page 30 of Devious Truth

She winks at Kieran.

“Yeah, hun. Do that. This a high roller game, right?”

“The Santucci brothers? Yeah.” She hooks her arm through his and leads him away, explaining the high limit of their ante.

“You’re setting up poker games now?” Darren leans across the bar.

“Just someone needing a seat at a table,” I mutter, grabbing my empty tray from where I placed it earlier.

“If you say so.” But he arches an eyebrow.

“I do.” Tucking my tray under my arm, I leave him and his disapproving stare behind.

A throbbing ache has taken root in the base of my skull by the time my shift is over. Stress will do that. Having spent the evening trying to avoid thinking about Ivan’s proposition while at the same time keeping one eye on the Santucci game for problems, I’ve overloaded myself.

The car ride home is blissfully uneventful, though the quiet allows for thoughts I’ve been pushing to the sidelines to rush the field.

Fifty thousand dollars to go to a charity event with Ivan Volkov should be an easy decision. Easy money.

Except nothing is that easy with Ivan, and what he might expect from me on the date could be more than I’m willing to give.

When I get home, I pour a glass of orange juice and sit at the table, kicking off my ballet flats.

The stack of bills is in the same place as when Ivan invaded my privacy by going through them. I pick up a random credit card statement, staring down the five digit balance.

They’re not completely unmanageable. I mean when I add it all up, it’s a lot. But I’m not starving, and I have a place to live, a job. I can pay it all off. It’s going to take me another seven years, maybe ten, to do it, though, thanks to interest being a thing.

Whoever invented that was a real asshole.

I drop my head to the table, taking in a deep breath.

I’m safe.

I breathe in for a five count.

It’s just money.

I let out the breath for another five count.

When the familiar anger rises up over the balances, over losing Derek, our baby, my life, I take another deep breath and unclench my body in conscious increments.

It works, but it’s getting harder to push the anger away. Because it’s aimed somewhere new. I’d been stupid to put all my trust in him when it came to money. I can bear that responsibility, but he was my husband.

Shouldn’t I have been able to trust him?

Lifting my head, I find the bill at the bottom of the pile. It’s the highest balance of them all with a twenty nine percent interest rate. The charges on the account don’t show up on the bills anymore; they’re over three years old. And it was just the one charge.

One line item on a credit card I had to take out in order to bury my husband and my unborn baby boy.

And every month this bill shows up to remind me what I lost. It’s never ending, the pain of it. Sometimes I find myself putting my hand where my belly, once large and round, is flat and barren now.

If I can make this reminder disappear, shouldn’t I do it?

It’s one date.

And it’s not like Ivan isn’t insanely good looking, intelligent, and even funny when he’s not trying to intimidate the soul out of someone.

With a sigh, I dig out my phone.

---