Page 5 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
We keep moving in a glacier-slow, revolting rhythm. Every beat of the music feels like it’s counting down to something I can’t stop.
He leans in further, voice pitched just for me. “You think a name’s gonna keep you safe from me?”
The words hit like ice water. I stop moving. “What did you say?”
He chuckles again, the way a man might after a bad joke. But his eyes say he meant every syllable. “You’re paranoid, Bailey.”
“Am I?”
“Always have been.”
I take a careful step back, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the dance. I’ll be going now.”
David holds on for one second too long. Then lets go. Smoothly. Publicly. But his eyes never leave mine. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“I live to disappoint you.”
He takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Pity. Could’ve been a nice moment. But you ruin everything, don’t you, Bailey?” Before I can retort, he walks away. Like he didn’t just lace a threat into the middle of a dance.
That’s the thing about surviving a man like David—you don’t get the luxury of forgetting. You only learn how to keep dancing, even after the music stops.
I’m tired of dancing to his tune. The lights are too warm now. The music too soft. The people around me are laughing, sipping, swaying—oblivious.
No one saw it. David’s always been good at hiding his attacks, whether physical or not.
I pass a tray of champagne flutes and take one without thinking. My hand is steady. That’s what matters. My hand is steady, and my smile—though forced—is still convincing enough to keep the gossip hounds at bay.
But inside? My heart’s beating hard enough to bruise.
I find a quiet corner near a trellis of jasmine, step behind it, and pull out my phone. The screen lights up with a text from Jessica:All good here. Kids are asleep. Gonna eat ALL your kettle corn xo
I dial anyway, and she picks up on the second ring. “Hey! You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “Sorry to call. Just…wanted to check in.”
“They’re out cold. Eli was snoring so hard he scared Maeve.”
I laugh. It’s too sharp, but I let it out anyway. “Good.”
“Do I need to kick someone’s ass in heels?”
That almost does it. Almost breaks me. God, I love her. “No. Just one of those nights.”
“You’re not alone, you know.”
“I know.” But it’s not the same. Not when the air still feels haunted. Not when my skin still remembers the pressure of his hand, the threat in his voice. “Thanks. Kids are still asleep?”
“Oh yeah. Tummies full of mac and cheese will do that.”
“Your night sounds much better than mine.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Jess. I’ll be home soon.” I slide the phone back into my clutch and stare out over the crowd again. David’s nowhere in sight. Maybe he’s already left. Maybe he’s lurking in some shadowed corner, watching for another moment to wedge himself into my life.
It doesn’t matter. Let him think I’m still the girl who flinched when he raised his voice, who tried to earn back kindness like it was money and he was the only one who could give it.
That girl is gone. I walked through hell and came out with mascara still intact. He doesn’t get to break me again. Not here. Not tonight.
