The skin on my right knee was raw, but it was nothing worse than what I’d gotten when I’d played softball in high school. It had bled like crazy, but Harrison apparently knew how to prepare for everything. Once we’d gotten a mile or so from Glenn’s house, he’d pulled over and passed me a first-aid kit.

At my questioning look, he’d said, “I fought in the Great War, Miss Maya. I learned then it’s always wise to have a few bandages and the like on hand.”

I didn’t find any need for the alcohol preps, but there were clean cotton squares to wipe away the blood, as well as bandages.

I wasn’t about to leave those in place, though—as somebody who’d gotten her fair share of scrapes, I was a pro at recognizing the non-stick kind of bandage and apparently, it was something 1960s California didn’t have.

Now, alone in my room, I dampened a rag and eased the bandage away. It had already started to dry to my knee, thanks to the clotting blood, and the wet rag made it easier to pull off without making it bleed all over again.

I was glad I hadn’t twisted my ankle.

That would’ve been an added pain in the butt, because my upcoming job interviews wouldn’t go over well if I had to hobble in with my ankle wrapped up. Bad enough I was going to have to figure out how to explain a pregnancy—although I’d come up with an idea.

I just hoped Florence and Astor would go along with it.

And…pantyhose. That was going to be miserable, unless I could put off the interview for a few days.

There was a knock at the door and I glanced up, fighting back the urge to sigh.

I didn’t want to do this right now.

But how could I tell her to leave me alone when she was the only person who was there for me?

“Come in.”

Florence came in, rushing toward the bed, only to stop a few feet away, her face going green at the sight of my knees. “Oh…that’s…I’m sorry. That’s gross.”

“When you and Astor have kids and they skin their knees, I guess Daddy will be cleaning them up,” I said, teasing her.

“You bet he will.” She tore her gaze away from my raw skin and came to sit down on the bed. “I…well, Astor needed to pass on a message. The interview will need to be rescheduled until next week. The psychologist who handles interviews is out for a personal matter. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll get the job,” she said, reaching out to touch my hand.

I just smiled and squeezed her fingers, then sighed, stretching my leg out.

“What happened with Glenn, honey?”

“What do you think?” Pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling, I lifted my shoulders. “I told him the truth. And he…”

My voice hitched and I stopped talking, waiting until I knew I could do it without crying. Staring upwards at the ceiling, I counted to ten. Then twenty. By the time I hit thirty-six, I was under control. “He didn’t believe me, Florence. But I didn’t really think he would. I mean, if I were him, I wouldn’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” She took my hands and squeezed. “I love you, and I believe you.”

“Thank you. If only you were Glenn and the father of my baby,” I quipped.

To my surprise—and relief—she laughed. “The point is…I believe you. Because I do love you. Of course, it’s not the kind of…um…well, it’s not the same kind love.” She blushed, her cheeks going a bright pink. “But it’s love. He’ll come around, honey.”

I wanted to believe that.

But I wasn’t so certain it was worth holding onto anymore.

“Thank you.” Leaning forward, I hugged her. Although I was taller, she felt so much stronger than me just then and I gave into the urge to lean on her, sighing a little as she stroked my hair.

“It’s going to work out, Maya. You’ll see.”

“Now you sound like me. It’s like our positions went and reversed.”

She laughed and eased back, studying me. “I guess I’m just learning from you,” she said lightly. “Now…here’s the deal. You look very tired. I want you to rest, then come downstairs and have something to eat. We’ll talk then. Things will look much better.”

She got up and started toward the door, before stopping and looking back at me.

Obediently, I lay down.

She smiled and slipped outside.

I closed my eyes, but I didn’t slide into sleep.

Not immediately.

My mind was already buzzing and spinning.

Florence might have had hopes that Glenn would change his mind, but I didn’t.

And it wasn’t like time was something I had a lot of—not with a baby on the way.

I had to make up my mind.

As sleep loomed nearer, the idea I’d been toying with worked its way closer and closer to the forefront of my mind.

It could work.

It wasn’t perfect, and it would be difficult.

But it could work.

You could always try to go home, a small voice inside me whispered.

I could. That was true.

But Glenn wasn’t home. He was here. And if I left, I’d never have the chance to try to convince him to give me one.

* * *

It was quiet in the kitchen when I made my way down a couple of hours later.

The newspaper was folded up in its customary spot, so I made myself some tea and flipped the paper open to the section I needed.

With a pen in hand, I started to search.

I wasn’t sure what area I needed, but I knew the kind of price range that would work. One thing about being here before, it had taught me what I could and couldn’t expect to make—and what I could and couldn’t afford.

Prices that would’ve seemed ridiculous in my time were actually still ridiculous now—ridiculously expensive, especially for somebody who had no experience, no references…nothing but hope when it came to finding a job that wasn’t waitressing or working in a grocery store, that is.

Florence was convinced I could get the job at Astor’s clinic, but I wasn’t going to count on that, not until I actually had the job. Not just the offer, but the job itself.

Still, from what Florence had told me, the clinic paid its employees very well, including the women. To make it here, I needed a job that would allow me some measure of independence.

Rubbing at my temple, I made a few more notes on a pad of paper I’d found, circling one address that had jumped out at me.

It was in an area called Willowbrook—one of the more affordable listings.

I could afford it if I got that job at the clinic.

“Hello!”

At the sound of her bright, happy voice, guilt flooded me, and I closed the paper carefully, taking care to hide the classified section. Florence slid into the seat next to mine, eyes on me and not the paper. “How are you feeling?”

She leaned forward, slipping her hand over mine. It was a comforting gesture.

“Just tired.” After a moment, I shrugged. “Maybe a little hungry.”

“You should be hungry! You haven’t eaten all day.” She nudged the paper. “Don’t tell me you’re still looking for a job. I’ve already told you, I have that taken care of.”

Wincing, I shrugged. “Habit.”

But I didn’t quite hit the right tone.

She cocked a brow and leaned back in her seat, studying me. “Is that right?”

“Ah…of course.” I took my tea and sipped. But when I went to slip out of my chair, Florence ever so slightly tightened her grip on my hand.

“Don’t lie,” she said simply. “We’re friends and we trust each other. Why lie?”

Deflated, I met her eyes. “Because you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like a great many things and I deal with them,” she pointed out.

“Well, you’re really not going to like this.” Slumping in the chair, I stared upward at the ceiling again. “I…look, I think I should find my own place.”

A moment of silence, followed by a baffled, “Why?”

“Because…” Lamely, I reached up, waving at the empty air, but no miracle answer appeared. “Florence, I’m an unwed mother living in Hollywood in 1965. Do you have any idea how hard this is going to be? How bad it could reflect on you?”

“Fuck them.” Her brows drew down low over her eyes as she said the words in a cool, pithy tone.

It was so surprising, I broke out laughing. “Florence!”

“Don’t you laugh at me!” she scolded, rising from her chair and shaking a finger at me. “You’re one of my dearest friends. You saved my life. You helped me in ways I can never repay, and you think I’m worried about how something might reflect on me?”

She waved a hand at the door again. “Fuck them! And you, for thinking it.”

Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears, and I realized I’d hurt her.

“Oh, Florence…”

Rising, I went to hug her.

She didn’t let me at first, but finally, she relented and I pulled her in close. “It’s not about you worrying over it,” I said, guilt now bubbling on top of everything else. “It’s about how they will react to you. I don’t want anybody ever thinking badly of you…especially because of me.”

“Maya…”

“Don’t.” I squeezed her and then moved away, going to the window to look out over her gardens. “It’s going to be hard enough, Florence. I don’t have family here. I don’t have—well, except for you and Astor and Harrison, I don’t have anybody. I’m not going to let this hurt you in any way.”

“But we want to help,” she said gently.

“You will. You already have.” I managed to smile as I looked back at her. “But…at the same time, I just feel like I need to find a way to do this…alone.”

She looked troubled as she sat down in her seat, pushing her hair back from her face. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

No. I shouldn’t.

Neither of us could argue that, but we couldn’t change what was, either.

After a moment, she sighed and looked up.

“Just what are you planning, Maya?”

“Well…” I blew out a breath, then folding my hands on the table, I gave her a smile that hopefully portrayed more confidence than I felt. “I’ve been thinking this through and I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m waiting with bated breath to hear what it is.” She had a wary look in her eyes.

“I’m going to buy a wedding ring.” At her blank look, I lifted a shoulder and looked away. “I hate to lie about such a thing, but I’ll let people think I’m a widow. If they ask, I’ll say he died in the war.”

“Maya…” She spoke in a hushed tone, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Normally, I would never do something like that.” Miserable, I looked back at her. Now that the words were out, it felt even more wrong, but what was I supposed to do? “But this way, I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody talking down about my child. It won’t affect me on the job. I…”

“You’ll need Astor to cover for you if you take the job at the clinic,” she said quietly.

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Closing my eyes, I buried my face in my hands. “That won’t work. I’ll just have to find another job.”

“But this job will be wonderful!”

“And it’s too likely something will slip, or somebody who knows me could find out.” Shaking my head, I got up from the chair and moved to the window. “If I’m going to build a decent life for me and the baby, it needs to be a new life.”

“Without me?”

“No!” Spinning, I turned and met her eyes. “You’re the only friend I’ve got. I can’t lose you. But the job…it’s too risky, Florence.”

“What’s too risky?” Astor’s deep, melodious voice had me jumping.

Florence, too.

She gave me a worried glance before sliding out of her chair to go give him a kiss. “Girl talk, honey.”

He arched a brow and studied her for a moment before looking over at me. “Is everything alright here?”

“It’s fine.” Florence’s voice wobbled a bit.

“For an actress, you’re a terrible liar,” I told her wryly. Then I looked at Astor. Regardless, he’d have to know I wasn’t taking the job, and I didn’t want her having to lie to her husband for me. “I’m not going to take the job at the clinic. I…can’t.”

Dark brows furrowing over his eyes, he shook his head. “Why not, Maya?”

“Because I…” Licking my lips, I fumbled for an explanation, and finally forced one out—one that almost resembled the story I’d tell people once I established my new life. “I’m pregnant, Astor. I only recently found out. And…” I held up my left hand, bereft of a wedding ring. “It won’t work very well when people there realize I’m not married, will it?”

“You’re pregnant,” he said slowly.

“Yes.”

Full lips drawing together in a lopsided frown, he rubbed the back of his neck. There was a flush on his cheeks, and I realized I’d probably embarrassed him. People were so different to what I was used to.

“The father is gone,” I said, forcing the sentence out, not looking at Florence. She was twisting her wedding ring around and around, her eyes on the floor. “He…well, he didn’t love me, and he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“He died,” Florence said, her voice shaking. The words came out with more conviction than I would’ve expected. When Astor’s face softened, I turned away.

“Please don’t.” Holding up a hand, I staved off whatever comfort he’d offer. I felt terrible lying to him—and Florence…? I hadn’t wanted her to lie to him at all. “It’s over and done. Except for the baby.”

Covering my belly with my hand, I calmed the racing in my mind enough so that I could look back at him and smile. “There are consequences to our actions, after all. But now…well, I should figure out what to do next. I know it won’t reflect well if I work at the clinic. I’ll find something else. I…also, I’m planning on moving. There’s an apartment in an area called Willowbrook. I’m going to look at it after a job interview tomorrow.”

“Willowbrook.” He looked troubled. “That’s some ways away, Maya. You don’t know anybody there, and you don’t have a job yet.”

“I know. I’m looking.” Giving him a bright smile, I added, “I also saw a couple of ads for job openings there that I hadn’t applied for. One is at a library. I was going to go by there after I looked at the apartment.”

“Maya, you know you don’t need to go rushing out of here. Florence and I are happy to help.”

“I’m not rushing out!” Under his watchful gaze, I had to fight the urge to squirm. It was like he could see right through me. “I just…I think it’s best if I find a place of my own and start…”

He moved closer and took my hands. “I have a confession to make. It’s my turn to apologize for overhearing. I already know you plan on buying a ring and saying you’re a widow. I overheard.”

He glanced at Florence as she looked up.

Their eyes locked while I tried to figure out just how much he’d heard.

He took that worry away a few seconds later. “Whoever the bastard is, shame on him for not standing by you. If you think this is the best way to handle it, I’ll support you. But I want you to know our doors are open.”

My heart ached and I whispered, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m just being a friend.” He squeezed my fingers gently, then moved over and joined Florence at the table. “Tell me about this apartment. Willowbrook, isn’t that close to Watts?”

Florence answered while I sank into the seat across from Astor.

Watts.

Why did that sound familiar??

“I don’t know much about the place. It’s small, but that’s okay. I don’t need much. What matters is that it’s affordable—or will be, once I get a job.” Lifting a shoulder, I tried to sound blasé. “And that will be soon.”

“You’re always so certain,” Florence murmured.

I wasn’t, not this time. But I had to believe things would be for the better. What choice did I have?