"You didn't grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth?"
"No."
"Wow. That's impressive."
He ignores my compliment. "Did I miss anything about you?"
"Sounds like you got the full picture."
He rolls his head toward me. "I forgot about your degree. Why are you working in a credit union if you have an art degree?"
"Oh. You want all the fun details tonight."
"Bring it on."
I've already told him more than I ever planned on. But the words continue to roll out of my mouth. "Ok. My husband was a musician in a band. I took the job at the credit union and a second one to support his career. Albums, equipment, and costumes all cost money. And then when he left, I was pregnant. So..." I shrug my shoulders.
"He's never seen Abby, then?"
"No."
"He doesn't pay you child support?"
"I don't know where he's at. There's no way to collect it."
"Do you have family who helps you?"
"My mom died—she hated him, by the way. Every chance she had to tell me to run from him, she did. But I didn't listen. When he left, Cee Cee helped me. I don't have any other family."
"Cee Cee is your cousin?"
Enough about me.
"Yes. Are you close to your family?"
The same expression he had when he told me about the charity event tonight fills his face. "My mom is in New York."
"Are you an only child?"
He stares out the window. "Depends on how you determine that."
"What do you mean?"
He turns back. "You didn't ask me how I made my money."
"Isn't it rude to ask?"
He smiles. "I don't think you're a rude person."
"No?"
"No."
I wince. "Even when I mistake a nice gesture like a spa day?"
He smiles. "Even then."
"Hmmm. Okay, I'll bite. How did you make your money?"