* * *

Synopsis:

It was supposed to be one night of magic, but now I’ll risk everything to see my prince charming again.

Ella

By fifteen I learned a hard lesson that life is no fairy-tale and I'm no princess. When I was smuggled into America, I became a slave for a cruel woman who wouldn't think twice about selling me to the black market.

When she goes out of town, I know setting up a dating app profile makes no sense. I know it's dangerous and foolish. But I can't spend the rest of my life wondering what I'm missing.

I was supposed to get lost in the fantasy, not his eyes. Not his tall, muscular body that makes my body clench in ways I've never felt before. In places I've never been touched by any man. 

I'm not the kind of girl who gets a happily ever after. So, why am I willing to risk everything to see him again?

Jackson

After I was discharged from the SEALs I was badly broken but a child saved me. MY child saved me. Now I’m a single Dad doing my best to raise my daughter. I thought I was finally happy, I thought I was complete.

Until I saw her.

Ella.

It was an amazing date until I ruined everything. I pushed her too fast — too hard and she ran away. It’s like she just disappeared. 

I can’t stop until I find her. It may have taken an instant, but I know there was something real between us. And I won’t stop scouring the earth until I find her.

Tinder Ella is a 53k word steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

* * *

I stare straight ahead and rest my hand against the cool, hard, familiar heel of my pistol. My fingers coil around the handle like a boa constrictor squeezing out the last moments of a rabbit’s life. Like how darkness has slowly suffocated the fight from me. The thrashing and screaming are all over. I’m remarkably calm now that I know this is done. Now that I’ve lost the will to live.

Now that I’m going to kill myself.

It was never supposed to go this way. I blink, my tired eyes gritty as if I’ve rubbed sandpaper over them. When was the last time I really slept? It’s all a haze. Ever since the night our Humvee got hit. I just can’t keep the days and weeks and months straight anymore. I had a promising career in the SEALs, where I was shooting up the ranks, surrounded by the best men I’ve ever known. Then, all my dreams, my future, my entire fucking life, it all blew up and burned in the fiery explosion of the IED. As the flames ripped through our armored vehicle, as they sizzled across Heinkel’s flesh, killing him, they destroyed us.

They say things are forged by fire. We like to talk about the phoenix that rose from the ashes, stronger and more beautiful. That’s fucking bullshit. That fire took everything from me. My brothers. My career. And now, my life.

I lift the gun from my empty kitchen table. The weight in my hand is comforting. My heartbeat slows and my breathing grows deep and steady as I glance down at the black steel. A sad smile twists my lips as memories of when I first joined the SEALs flood my mind. Those were the best days of my life. Proving myself at demolition training, finding my tribe, getting assigned to my unit, and meeting the guys who would become closer than blood to me.

Tears blur my vision as I mourn the man I thought I’d be. The brave, strong, elite soldier who’d never break and never falter. Now look at me. I’m not strong, I’m not brave. I’m not even a fucking soldier anymore. I’m nothing. No one.

Water streaks back toward my hairline as I frown up at the ceiling. “What else am I supposed to do, huh? Keep living like a trapped rat? Stuck in some kind of hole while the water slowly drowns me? I know you said this is a sin, but fuck, God, why aren’t you helping me? Why did you leave us out there to die? If you didn’t want me to end it like this, why didn’t you take me in the explosion? Instead of leaving me fucking useless and alone.” Anger taints my words as my voice chokes up in my throat and snot runs from my nose.

My tears fall down my face and my hand lifts the pistol with a tremble, tucking it under my chin. I’m such a fucking coward now. My hands shake at the idea of pulling the trigger. What have I become? I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I rest my grizzled jaw down onto the muzzle and steady my twitching hand with my free one.

“I’m talking to myself, aren’t I? Like a fucking little kid who still believes in Santa, I’m hanging onto some sad idea that you’re even up there. That you even care. If you existed, I would’ve never seen the things I’ve seen.”

The barrel pinches the sensitive flesh under my jawbone as I look up at my ceiling again. “If you’re there, if you give a shit about me, give me a sign, God. I just need a sign that...” My voice quivers as hot tears fall over my cheeks and spill onto my hands. “That any of this gets better. That my life won’t be this fog of anger and despair. That my dreams won’t just be watching the men I loved die. That this stops hurting so fucking much.” I howl. My finger moves to the trigger and I try to hold the gun tight in my grip, but it’s hard to do when my shoulders are shaking so hard.

“Please,” I plead with God, or maybe with nothing. Maybe with myself. Maybe only with my demons.

The room is eerily silent. There’s nothing to indicate I’m doing anything but stalling. I don’t know why I expected anything different. What did I think would happen? The sky would open? Light would pierce my window and shine on me like a spotlight from Heaven? It’s stupid.

I’m stupid.

And I’m done. My index finger circles the trigger and I take a deep lungful of air, pulling back the hammer with my thumb. I close my eyes and push the tip of the gun into my skin.

“That’s what I thought.” I grind my teeth together. Sweat breaks out across my forehead and my heart thumps in my chest hard as I get ready to pull the trigger.

Br-ring! Br-ring!

I open one eye, unsure if I’m actually hearing my phone go off right now, or if I’m hallucinating.

Br-ring! Br-ring!

The gun clatters down against the table as I stand up in total shock. My muscles twitch as I stare in disbelief at my cell phone on the counter. Its screen is lit up bright, blaring at me, with an unfamiliar number blazed across the top of it. Slowly, I walk over to the counter and pick it up. Is this really happening? I stare up at the ceiling, but this time in awe and surprise as I swipe my thumb over the cell and bring it to my ear.

“Hullo.” The sweat that formed across my forehead trickles down and gets lost in my eyebrows.

“Hello, is this Jackson Wilcox?” A friendly woman’s voice reaches through the fog of my confusion like a steady hand on my shoulder.

“Uh, yeah.” For a second I’m almost unsure if that’s the right answer. This moment, this interruption, it’s all too surreal to process.

“Hello, my name is Doreen Vickers and I’m with Child Welfare Services. Sir, I have some news for you and, um, it might be a shock.” Her tone turns nervous. I’m pretty sure I can hear her feet pacing against the hard floor.

“Try me.” I shake my head in disbelief. How much more shocking can any of this get, really?

“Okay then, Mr. Wilcox, right now we have a child in our care. Her mother, Janet Millville, I believe you two were together at one point?”

I nod silently as a flash of Janet’s milky skin and fiery red hair flashes through my mind.

Doreen continues, “I’m sorry to inform you that she was killed in a car accident last week. Her daughter, well, Ms. Millville wanted the biological father to be the guardian if anything happened to her. I’m not sure what you know about Chloe, but she’s at our facility right now and I would like you to come in to talk to me about making arrangements with you or whether you’d like to keep her in the system,” Doreen rambles.

My mind locks up. I can’t make sense of why she’s calling me. I can’t make sense of any of this. Janet is dead? She had a daughter? What’s happening here?

“I’m sorry, why are you calling me? I haven’t heard from Janet in almost, well, four years now.” Heat stains the back of my neck as my brain scrambles to piece this together for me.

“Mr. Wilcox, I’m calling you because we have Chloe in our care and she’s your daughter.”

* * *

I sit in the reception area and rub my hands over my pants. No matter how many times I brush my damp palms over the denim, it doesn’t wick away the sweat coating my fingers. I feel raw. Like every inch of my skin is painfully new and being exposed to the world for the first time. This morning feels like a lifetime ago. Like the fragmented images of a dream that haunts you from time to time, but you can’t place the reason why.

I can’t believe Janet was pregnant and she never told me. My mind has been reeling since I hung up the phone this morning.

When we broke it off, she didn’t even hint that she knew she was carrying my child. Did she know then? I’ve been combing over the details I can recall of how we ended things.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jackson.” Her eyes were already red, like she’d spent the entire night crying.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I had thought we were doing great. We’d been together for almost a year and we still couldn’t get enough of each other.

“I can’t be with a man who’s already in love with something else. I can’t spend my life competing for your time, for your attention, for you.” She sniffled and tucked her long, red hair behind her ears.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” I stepped into her and tried to wrap my arms around her, but she crossed her arms, eyes cast down to her feet. “You know there’s nobody but you, babe. Why are you saying that?”

“Jackson, I’m not talking about another woman.” She breathed out hard and her lips quivered. “I’m talking about the SEALs. That’s your true first love, and”—her voice cracked—“it always will be. The best I can do is be a distant second in your life. We need more than that.” Her gaze remained fixated to the floor.

“We need more than that.” At the time she said it, I assumed she meant that she and I needed more. Is that what she meant? Or did she already know there was another person who would need more time, more love, more of me than I could possibly give?

“Mr. Wilcox?”

My head snaps up to attention at the woman standing in front of me. She holds out her hand to greet me, an uncertain smile resting on her lips.

I stand up on shaky legs and wrap my hand around hers, shaking it gently. “Yes”—I nod—“that’s me.”

“Come with me, sir, we have quite a bit to talk about.” She turns and her long skirt flings out around her ankles before twirling in tight against her legs like an umbrella being closed around the handle. My eyes briefly flicker over her loosely twisted bun of graying hair as I follow her down the hall to her office.

I scan the room, happy for the reminder of her name attached to the office door. I was already feeling so much that I could barely process what she was telling me on the phone, let alone remember her name.

Doreen Vickers - Director of Child Welfare Services

I sit down without waiting for her to offer me a seat, pressing my lips tight together, hoping she can make sense of all this for me. I know I can’t take care of a child. Hell, I can’t even look after myself. But I need Doreen here to reassure me that someone else will do the job. I need to know this isn’t just one more thing I fuck up in the world. The child, my child, needs to be well taken care of.

“Mr. Wilcox, thank you for coming in on such short notice.” Her darkly stained lips smile at me, but I don’t have the heart to return it.

“No problem,” I answer gruffly, clearing my throat.

“I’ll get right to it.” She shuffles a folder on her desk. “As I told you on the phone, Janet Millville was unfortunately killed in a car accident last week.”

“Was the child in the car? Did she get hurt?” I manage to ask through gritted teeth, my gut twisting up into knots at the idea of the little girl watching her mother die.

“No, no. Nothing like that. She was in daycare when it happened.” The warmth of her brown eyes surrounds me almost like a mother’s hug.

“Good.” I nod.

“So, Janet had a will and in it she expressed that she wanted you to have full custody of your daughter if anything happened to her,” Doreen explains.

I slowly shake my head. I know Janet didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but she was really close to her parents. “I didn’t even know I had a daughter. Doesn’t it make more sense for her to go to her grandparents? She has no idea who I am.” I rub my hand down over my neck.

“Apparently Janet’s father was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease and it has progressed pretty quickly. He’s already lost mobility in his limbs. Her mother was giving him full-time care, but then took a nasty fall that resulted in a spiral fracture. The doctors informed her she has osteoporosis and that caring for a young child is physically impossible for her.” Doreen frowns slightly at the folder.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Sorry, I mean, I just meant that’s awful.” I can’t even begin to understand the pain her mother must be suffering through. First to watch her husband slowly become a shell of the man she once knew, then to lose her only child only to top it all off with a debilitating disease herself. It’s like life just stabbed her in the gut and then twisted the knife right up into her heart.

“It is,” Doreen agrees. “Both of her parents are receiving outside care right now. That’s why Janet made the arrangements for you to take custody if anything should happen to her. Now, I know this is a lot to process, but obviously the best interest of the child is the priority here. So, if there’s any reason you can’t or won’t be able to take in Chloe, we are prepared to put her into the foster care system and try to find a good match for her.”

I bite my tongue. I refuse to tell her that I can think of more than a few reasons why I should never be responsible for a child. Mainly the fact that I was ready to blow my brains out this morning. Maybe I should tell her. The kid would probably find a better family in the system.

But what if she doesn’t?

What if I sign those papers and the little girl goes from watching her grandfather deteriorate and losing her mother to a life of loneliness and abuse? What if my ‘responsible decision’ is the worst thing I could ever do for her? What if, in fifteen years, she ends up sitting at a kitchen table with a gun tucked under her chin all because I decided I was too broken to even try to give her a good life?

“No, I’ll take custody of her,” I find myself saying the words with a force, with a conviction, I haven’t felt in a long time. My daughter needs me. And maybe there’s a part of me that needs her too.

“Are you certain?” Doreen peers across the desk at me. “Would you like some time to think it over more?”

Everything inside me screams that I’m not certain. I’m not ready for this. I don’t even know if I can do it. I don’t have the first clue about raising a little girl. Outside, I keep my face stony, never revealing the swirling cyclone of emotions rushing around in my gut.

“I don’t need any time. I’ll do it.”

“Okay then.” Doreen beams at me, her brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “There’s a lot of paperwork to go over and some hoops to jump through, but we can get through most of it pretty quickly.” She opens up the file folder and grabs a pen.

“Great,” I answer flatly. All I can do is hope this isn’t the worst decision I’ve ever made. It’s one thing to fuck up my own life, but I can’t stand the idea of doing anything but my best for this little girl.

* * *

“I don’t know how familiar you are with the development phases of children,” Doreen talks to me over her shoulder as she leads me through the hallways to meet my daughter for the first time. My stomach hasn’t been tied this tight in knots since I was getting ready to parachute into my first mission with the SEALs. Somehow, this feels more frightening.

“Uh, I’m not,” I answer her. I don’t know what age kids are when they can feed themselves, or use the bathroom on their own. I don’t know if Chloe will talk clearly or if she’s going to use the garbled language of toddlers. Basically, I don’t know the first thing about any of this.

What have I done?

A layer of cold fear coats my stomach as self-doubt creeps up inside me, like it’s trying to claw a path up my throat and out my mouth. No matter how much I try to swallow it down, it’s still just past the edge of my tongue, urging me to let it free.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn as you go. In the meantime, there’s a lot of good reading in the brochures I gave you. The only reason I bring it up is so you know that Chloe isn’t going to have a firm understanding of her mother’s death. At three, she can’t grasp that this is a permanent change in her life and that Janet isn’t coming back. It’s completely normal for her to be cheerful one second and sad the next. She’s only going to understand in pieces that things aren’t going to go back to the way they were.”

“Okay.” I nod grimly and stuff my hands in my pockets. “I should probably get her a counsellor, right?” I tilt my head as I realize that, while I’m looking, I should find one for me too.

“That would be a great idea. And I can give you a list of therapists that we recommend, if you’d like.”

“That would be helpful.” I stop next to her and wonder if she’s trying to size me up.

Doreen stares up into my face and puts a warm hand on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Jackson. Are you ready to meet your daughter?”

I swallow hard to steady my nerves. I can’t believe how much my hands are shaking. Keeping them hidden from sight, stuffed in my pockets, is the only way I can hide the telltale tremors traveling through them. “I think so,” I answer unconvincingly.

“Here we go.” She opens the door and leads me through into what looks like a large daycare. There are children of all ages playing and doing crafts around the space. I scan the room as Doreen tries to point out Chloe to me, but I don’t need her help. I spot her right away. With fluffy hair the color of a bonfire and pale skin that looks like the sun has never touched it, I can see the child I made with Janet right away.

“Do-wene,” Chloe cries out as she spots the child welfare director at my side. She clumsily runs over to us and wraps her arms around Dorene’s leg, giving her a big hug.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Dorene pats her on the head. “There’s somebody I want you to meet, Chloe.”

My heart stops in my chest as the little girl, as my little girl, shyly smiles up at me.

“Hi,” she whispers and crinkles her fingers on her chunky hand into a timid wave.

“Hey, Chloe.” My voice catches in my throat as the waves of emotions crash over me. I bend down on one knee and look into her perfect face. “I’m Jackson.” I hold out my hand, which I’m sure is stupid because no kid shakes hands. However, she circles her hand around my fingers and squeezes them.

I’m not sure how I’m going to do any of this. My house is barren. My life is a mess. I don’t know the first thing about being a dad, and I sure as shit didn’t learn anything from the deadbeat who got my own mother pregnant. I could fuck this all up, and, if I think back to where I was only this morning, it seems inevitable that I will.

Yet, as Chloe holds my finger and regards me with those big, blue saucers for eyes, as I take in her innocent face and think about how much this child has already lost, how much she’s already suffered, I just know I’ll make it work. I might not know how, I might make mistakes along the way, but somehow I’m going to give this kid the life she deserves.

Thank you, God. I say the words silently as my heart fills with a love so pure and so overwhelming, I just know this is the answer to my prayers.

* * *

I plunge the wet rag into the soapy pail of water and squeeze it out between the canary yellow gloves covering my hands. Moving back across the huge master bathroom on my hands and knees, I scrub Sylvia and Raymond’s floor. The marble radiates a chill through me, keeping me cool as I rock my body back and forth, pushing all my weight onto the rag, washing each square inch clean enough to eat off of. But I wouldn’t recommend it. Not when Raymond has such a disgusting habit of pissing at the foot of the toilet and then leaving it there in dark, gross puddles of yellow.

I push the thought from my mind. The last thing I want to think about is Raymond’s piss, or anything else that comes out of him for that matter. I prefer to think of him like a Ken doll. All abs and no… package. Even though he’s gone out of his way to grind up against me like a Chihuahua in heat a couple of times, refusing to let me indulge in the idea that he’s only half a man.

Dragging the heavy bucket of hot water back toward me, I continue cleaning the floor exactly how Sylvia wants it done. She’s very particular about how I clean, how I cook, what I buy, how I talk. It’s endless really, and at times it’s exhausting. However, I know that without her I would be dead.

Literally.

An unwelcome mosaic of thoughts overwhelms me. They kick down the door I try to keep them behind and intrude on my mind just like the men who broke down my family’s door that night. I freeze as the memory grips me tight in its grasp, forcing me to watch, yet again, as the men my father screwed over in Colombia stormed our house.

I hid underneath my big brother’s bed, scurrying behind his huge duffel bag full of old, smelly gym clothes. I cowered in the corner, hidden from the men who took turns raping my mother above me. I cried silent tears as she struggled, and felt the weight of the mattress as it pressed down over me while they violently fucked her. Two other men waited for their turn, holding my brothers nearby, making them watch.

My older brother, Alejandro, screamed at them and tried to fling himself free. He wanted to protect her, but the men just beat him down until he was on his hands and knees, bleeding onto the floor. Miguel, my younger brother just cried. They slit his throat first. They beat Alejandro until he stopped moving and then cut his next. My mother screamed, she stopped fighting them once they killed her babies. She didn’t even try to defend herself when they opened her throat and let her bleed out into the mattress.

They left, laughing and zipping themselves up, wiping the bloody edges of their knives against their pants. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. For hours I stayed curled up, my family slaughtered, completely frozen in terror. My mind played tricks on me, told me that maybe they knew I was there. Maybe they were just waiting for me to come out of hiding so I could meet the same fate as my mama. My body ached and my muscles tensed, but still I didn’t come out. I barely even breathed.

Finally, the door fell open and I heard the loud, heavy footsteps that could only belong to a man enter the house. I shook uncontrollably as I tried not to move, waiting for the next man to find me. I was praying so hard, I didn’t fully understand the noises I heard at first. They sounded like the squeals of a pig, but then I saw his shoe. My father. He had come home and seen what his betrayal had cost him. What it had cost us. When I came out he was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. My tears had all dried up. I looked around at the bodies of the people I loved—my mother, my brothers—then my eyes locked on my father.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“Ella, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded. “I’ll get you to safety. I’ll make sure you’re okay,” he promised, but I didn’t believe him. We had always grown up knowing my father’s life of crime paid for our clothes and food. Just like every other family in Colombia, we knew that the Úsuga Clan ran the country, and that to try to cheat them was certain death. Yet, my father only thought of himself and it took away everyone I ever loved.

“Mmm-mmm, there’s nothing like seeing a girl down on her hands and knees. How about you flip that dress up over your waist and give Daddy a lil’ peek of that fat ass, Ella?”

A long, spine-seizing shiver tenses up my back muscles and shakes me back into the present. I don’t need to glance over my shoulder to know the obnoxious man standing behind me is Raymond. At twenty-eight, he’s much closer to my age than to Sylvia’s. However, that’s the whole point of having him around, I suppose. He’s her little boy toy. Although most days she treats him more like a pet than a man.

“You’re not my ‘daddy,’ Raymond. Please let me be. I need to get this done for Miss Sylvia.” I don’t take my eyes off the floor as I urge him to drop his swinging-dick swagger routine.

“I might not be your daddy, but you can call me Daddy,” he muses. “Wouldn’t you like that? I know I would. One of these days I’m gonna have you bent over just like that and have you begging me for this cock.”

I shake my head in disgust and glare at him over my shoulder as he tilts his head and contorts his voice to a higher pitch.

“Ohhh, Daddy, fuck me harder,” he mocks me.

Anger spreads like wildfire over my cheeks as heat burns up my back. This is how my father saved me. He had me smuggled over the United States border to a woman he only vaguely knew. She had a lot of experience bringing immigrant girls to America. It has only been her weak loyalty to my father that has kept her from selling me the same way she’s sold the other girls over the years. Although she reminds me almost every day that I can easily be taken off her hands, bought by strangers who would own me as a sex slave. Sylvia brought me into her house and into safety when I was only fifteen years old. Now, at twenty-one, I’ve been her unpaid servant for six years.

I already dealt with her last boy-toy. Raymond is the second one I’ve had the misfortune of meeting. “Go away.” I shoo him off, but he doesn’t budge. His stupid smirk is pasted to his overly tanned face.

“What’s going on in here?”

I watch with satisfaction as Raymond jumps guiltily about a mile high. His shaggy blond hair falls across his forehead and he tries to push it back casually as Sylvia storms in across the bedroom toward him.

“I was, uh, just coming in here to take a shit, but this one”—he points down at me—“is washing up.” He shrugs as the foul lies pour off his even fouler mouth.

“Raymond! I don’t have time for this.” Sylvia swats him with the handful of paperwork she’s holding in one of her hands. “We’re meeting our new ‘human interest’ liaison in San Diego and I don’t have a single thing to wear. Especially since this fucking idiot picked up my dress in the wrong size.” She holds up the exact Dolce and Gabbana dress she ordered me to get for her and flings it around angrily before tossing it at me. It lands over my head and Raymond bursts out laughing as I slowly tug it off.

“Look, Ella, I know English isn’t your first fucking language, but I would expect you to understand me by now! You were supposed to get this dress in a size eight, not off the fucking rack. So, throw this in the back closet with the other crap you’ve messed up. You’re such a pain in the ass. I swear, I should just get whatever money I can for your pathetic ass. If I’d known you’d be this fucking stupid, I would’ve never helped your father out.” She rolls her eyes as her words deliver the slap to my face I know she wants to.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer passively. I know she’s the one who messed up the size, but I will never say that out loud. She has an entire closet of shoes and clothes that she’s deluded herself into thinking she could fit into. And yet, she always manages to put that blame on me when they don’t fit.

I stand up and gingerly pick up the dress, avoiding eye contact with her. I know better than to push her buttons. Sylvia really wouldn’t think twice about getting rid of me. She’s told me that for years. I bite my tongue and remind myself that my life could be worse. I know that. I’ve seen some of the girls who have stopped in here, children really. They spend a few nights only to disappear into the seedy underbelly of sex slavery.

I step past them and make my way out of the room, keeping my eyes downcast onto the floor. I know my father sent me off so I wouldn’t be killed like the rest of my family, but there have been so many days, so many years now, that I can’t help but wonder if I wouldn’t have been better off dying with them.

* * *

“Chloe, we have to pack it up, sweetheart. It’s almost time for lunch and then my friend Ryan is coming to visit us, remember?” I look down into her sparkling blue eyes and see the big clouds of disappointment starting to move over them.

“But, but, Daddy, it’s my special princess tea party.” She pouts and her crown slides sideways on her wispy, red curls.

“I know, honey.” I can’t help but smile at the adorably frowny face she’s putting on. I remember what this place looked like only a year ago. Back then, I was using this entire room for storage. Mostly I had my old military gear in here, stuffed in around an old treadmill I never used and a bunch of tools I had collected over the years.

I remember distinctly the gripping terror of bringing Chloe home for the first time. The realization that washed over me as I walked her into the house and realized I didn’t know the first thing about being a father. My house was about as far from child-proof as you could get. With a fridge full of beer and leftover takeout food, I didn’t even know what to feed her.

I tilt my head and smile as I gaze over the small bed I put together for her covered in a My Little Pony blanket. Her toy box is overflowing with toys and her costume rack is almost buried in every kind of princess dress you can imagine. I remember changing the electrical sockets around the bottom half of the wall to the child-safe ones that are in there now. The learning curve was steep, but making this house a home for Chloe was worth it.

She saved my life.

“All right, how about this? I’ll have a tea party with you, but only for fifteen minutes, got it? Then it’s time to tidy up and get on with the rest of the day. Understand?”

Chloe nods enthusiastically as she bounces around the room overjoyed that she doesn’t have to cut her princess party short.

“Okay, okay! You can wear this crown.” She rushes across the floor and tugs a sparkly, pink plastic tiara from a pile and rushes back over to me.

I sigh and lift it up, placing it delicately on my head. I’m glad Ryan isn’t going to be here for a few hours. This is an image I could live without him seeing.

“Oh, Daddy! You look so bee-you-tiful.” Chloe claps her hands together as she grabs my hand and leads me to the foam mat on her floor.

Spread out in front of me is a half circle of stuffed animals and her tea set has been carefully placed in the center of the action. “Do I sit here?”

She sports a big, toothy grin as she leads me to my spot and nods. I ease down onto the floor and marvel at how effortlessly she flops down beside me.

“You can be Princess Sophia,” she exclaims and shakily picks up the teapot from the floor. “Hold up your cup, Daddy. I am giving you some tea,” she explains.

“I mean, can’t I even be a prince or something? How about Prince Jackson? I think that’s got a nice ring to it.” I hold up my tiny, flower encrusted mug.

“No, you are Princess Sophia. I am Princess Belle.” She pouts as she helps me get this straight.

“Okay, fine.” I sigh. “Princess Belle, can I have some tea, please?” I hold out my cup and watch as she pretends to pour me some of the imaginary liquid. The small tiara on my head stays in place as I sip at the air, slurping loudly while Chloe squeals happily.

Honestly, when she laughs like that, I would gladly be a princess any day. Just hearing her giggle makes it all worth it.

“Daddy, we forgot cheers.”

“We forgot what?” I can see that I messed up the rules in her pretend world somehow as she scrunches up her nose.

“Cheers. Do this.” She lifts up her tea cup gingerly. I follow her lead and she smashes her mug into mine with enough force that if there was real tea in there it would be all over the floor.

“Cheers!” she squeals.

“Okay, cheers, honey.” I shake my head and try not to laugh.

Tap-tapitty-tap-tap.

“Who’s that?” Chloe’s eyes go wide.

Tap-tap.

I’m not entirely sure, but I stand up to go find out. My daughter is hot on my heels as I walk down the stairs to the front door. As I circle my hand around the knob, I remember I’m still wearing a crown and I try to tug it free from my hair as I swing the door open. I didn’t realize when I put it on that it had a little prickly comb on the bottom, so the tiara digs into my hair and hangs off the side of my head as Ryan’s familiar face stares in disbelief.

“Well, don’t you look pretty.” Ryan smiles smugly and I pull on the plastic until it’s freed from the tangled mess it made of my hair.

“Thank you,” Chloe answers in a sing-song, not knowing that the ‘compliment’ was meant for me.

“You’re early.” I lift up my daughter and step back, letting Ryan inside.

“And I’m so glad I was. It would’ve been a real shame to miss that.” He laughs.

“Nice ride.” I glance out at the gleaming Harley, shimmering like unbridled freedom itself in my driveway.

“Thanks, man, I love it. It’s been nice to see the country on her.” He smiles wistfully at his hog.

“I bet.” I remember when I drove my own bike out on the open roads a lifetime ago. That was before Chloe came into my life and I traded in my Honda Rebel for nursery furnishings. Sometimes I miss it, but as my daughter likes to say ‘no trade backs!’

“Let’s stop talking, Daddy,” Chloe helpfully suggests like she always does when she’s bored with the conversation. She turns her attention to one of the men I consider a brother, my fellow SEAL Ryan. “I have a great idea.”

“Oh, what’s that?” he answers her cheerfully.

“How about we all play princesses?” She giggles and Ryan gives me a look. If I know my little girl, and I do, she’ll have us all throwing back imaginary teas like frat boys with beer.

“Come on in, man.” I lead Ryan into the house. “Make yourself at home.”

* * *

“Venti macchiato made with soy milk and no foam, extra shot of espresso, extra drizzle, and extra hot, order up,” Julianna calls out theatrically. We both laugh at the ridiculous coffee order I collect daily for Sylvia. “Oh, and here’s a little something-something for you.” She gives me a dramatic wink like she’s letting an audience full of people in on a plot twist coming up in a Shakespeare in the Park play. “On the house, of course.” She pushes a cup with a double shot of espresso toward me, looking over her shoulders like the chain owner could come creeping out of the shadows at any moment to give her shit for her kindness.

“Thank you.” I smile. The fact that she makes me my cup of ‘something special’ every day doesn’t take away my gratitude. Julianna doesn’t have to go out of her way to make me anything, especially not for free. Yet, she always does. It’s little moments like this, these small and seemingly insignificant instances of kindness that keep my faith in humanity. I might be grasping onto threads, but after the life I’ve led, I’ll take all the threads I can cling onto.

“Don’t mention it.” She grins and takes my cash for the elaborate latte, or the ‘bitch special’ as she likes to call it. “Sooo, I’m having a party this weekend and it’s going to be completely legendary.” She leans on the counter, resting her chin in her hands as she threads her fingers through her punky, electric blue hair.

I open my mouth to politely decline, but Julianna holds up her hand, shushing me. My gaze falls to her silver skull ring she wears over one of many brightly-colored knuckle tattoos and wait for her to finish talking.

“Before you even think of saying no, just listen, okay?” She doesn’t wait, steamrolling onward, “When I say it’s going to be legendary, I mean it. My band, The Blazing Pocket Rockets, is going to be doing a set near the end of the night, so you can’t miss this one, Ella.” What started out as a strong pitch turns into a pathetic whine. Her shoulders hunch over in defeat as she reads my face.

“I’m sorry.” I wince at her disappointment. “I can’t go. It’s not that I don’t want to.” I try to soften the blow.

“Then go. If you want to go, go!” She tries another feeble attempt. There’s just no way I can say yes, though.

Julianna is probably the closest thing to a real friend I have in this entire world. For years, she’s been taking my order at this coffee shop. At first we just had very casual conversations. She was trying to learn Spanish and my English was about as broken as a child’s back then. Somehow, we managed to communicate. I doubt she even knows how much those early conversations meant to me. After losing my family and being shipped off to America like a piece of freight, the few minutes of kindness and compassion she showed me were enough to keep me going. Enough to give me hope.

Over the years, we’ve developed a real bond. Although I’ve never confessed to her that I’m an illegal, she knows my situation isn’t normal. However, Julianna has never pried into that side of my life. The only time she’s made much mention of it is to try to inspire me to rebel against Sylvia like I’m some kind of overprotected teen who needs to lash out at their parents.

“I just can’t,” I confess and gulp back the rest of the strong, flavorful espresso she gave me.

“I just wish we could hang out sometime, you know? Like, for longer than it takes to fill a bitch special.” She laughs and taps her painted orange fingernail against the coffee order for Sylvia.

“I would like that,” I answer honestly.

Inside, my stomach sinks as I realize this is probably the way our entire friendship will go. Something begins to stir up in my chest at the realization that in six years I’ve never had a single minute outside that wasn’t to run errands for Sylvia. She’s kept me almost under lock and key all this time and I’ve never even thought to protest against it.

Sylvia has even left me alone before, like she will be this weekend, and the biggest rule I broke in her absence was that I sat on the furniture. An anger I’ve never felt before billows up inside me. Any moment that I’ve been awake for over half a decade has been in service of her. Well, I’m tired of living like her slave.

“Wait a minute,” I think out loud and Julianna leans in toward me, her eyes sparkling bright under the florescent lights. “My boss is going out of town on Sunday,” I say the words slowly, like they’re completely scandalous thoughts I’m spilling. “I’m going to have the house to myself for a couple nights, so why don’t you come over?” I bite down on my lip, uncertain if I should have even spoken the words.

Julianna smiles broadly, her lip piercing pushing out prominently as her lips pull tight. “Now that sounds like a plan I can get behind.” She nods. “How about I bring some wine and we have a girl’s night?”

Before I have a chance to overthink it, I find myself agreeing. I know it’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had, but right now, I don’t care. Since Sylvia took me in, I’ve done nothing but toe her hard lines like a prisoner trying to get out early for good behavior. It’s time I realized this isn’t something I can walk away from. This is a life sentence. So, I can start learning to have some fun despite my circumstances, or I can live a life that makes me wonder if I might as well have died back in Colombia.

I choose freedom. Sure, they might be sporadic moments of freedom that only exist when she goes out of town. But to me, it’s still freedom.

* * *

When there’s a knock at the front door, I instinctively rush over to answer it. Not because I’m excited about my forbidden girl’s night. I am, I’m excited, nervous and, at times, downright scared.

But none of those are the reason I run to the door. It’s because of how ingrained it’s become to answer everything right away around here. A knock at the door sends me sprinting. A ring of the phone has me frantically searching for the receiver. Even getting a text message from Sylvia is enough to make me stop everything I’m doing and check to see what she wants. What can I say, after six years she has me well-trained.

Maybe Raymond isn’t her only lap dog.

I push the depressing thought from my mind. Tonight isn’t about any of that. They’re gone for a couple days and I have this entire sprawling place to myself. I’m not going to waste it wallowing in self-pity about things I can’t change. I yank the front door open and Julianna is standing on the step in a long, dark dress that reminds me of a sorceress. She holds up a bottle of wine in each hand like an Olympian holds up their gold medal up on the stand.

“That’s way too much.” I immediately balk at all the booze, but she just rolls her eyes and brushes past me.

“Maybe for you, Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes, but this ain’t nothing for me.” She kicks off her shoes at the door and darts her gaze around the house as she walks inside. Her head rolls back as her eyes travel over all the expensive decor and art. “Holy crap, what’s your boss’s job again? This place is like an art gallery.” She whistles low at the expensive paintings and sculptures.

“She works in finance.” It’s not a lie. Selling people is technically working with finances. Just disgusting and morally repugnant finances.

“Wow, guess I should’ve gone to college after all. This place is swanky. And all this time I was feeling sorry for you, thinking you were holed up in some kind of homemade Git-mo. Turns out you’ve been living the high life the whole time,” she teases me.

I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, she’s just making her usual jokes, but I’m already on edge from my bold decision to even have her over. So a smile is the furthest thing from my lips right now. Taking a deep breath, I push down the wave of panic that just swelled up inside me.

“Looks can be deceiving.” I shrug, not really wanting to get into it much more than that.

Suddenly, just being out in the open, in Sylvia and Raymond’s space, I feel too vulnerable. I can imagine too many things somehow getting broken, or spilling wine on something I would never be able to pay for in a million years. My nerves shrivel up as my skin crawls with fear and I grab Julianna by the arm and lead her to my quarters.

“Come on, let’s hang out in my room.” I tug her along behind me.

“Uh, okay, sure. Do you have a corkscrew in there?” She’s definitely got her priorities set. And drinks seem to be taking up the number one spot.

“No.” I fling the door to my bedroom open. It’s a humble space with only a bed and a dresser inside. Even though it’s the smallest room in this house, it’s still more than I had in Colombia. Besides, I don’t need a huge space to put my modest belongings or to fall asleep in.

“Here, make yourself at home. I’ll grab us some glasses and an opener.” I sweep my hand across the simple space as if I’m introducing her into a vast home instead of a tiny room that isn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet.

Julianna doesn’t hesitate to saunter in. I quickly make my way to the kitchen to grab the things we need. When I pop back in the room, I can see she’s laid the wine bottles down and is holding one of my Harlequin romance novels curiously in her hand. I would think she’d have some level of embarrassment to be caught rifling through my belongings, especially since I know I kept that book under my bed. But no, if she’s ashamed at all, it’s impossible to tell from the giant smile on her face.

“What is this?” She shakes the book at me like she just heard the punchline to a crazy joke.

“It’s a book,” I answer matter-of-factly and pluck it free from her hand. I put it down on my dresser along with the wine glasses and opener. “And I’d thank you not to go snooping through my stuff, Julianna,” I sniff.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I didn’t mean any harm by it.” She joins me by the dresser and picks up the bottle opener, screwing it down into the cork. “I just didn’t know anyone our age reads those things, that’s all. My mom used to read them all the time. It surprised me to see it in here.”

Pop!

She yanks the plug free from the bottle and fills both of our wine glasses up high with the red, fragrant liquid. I don’t bother calling her out on the fact that she wouldn’t have known about my books at all if she hadn’t been sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Instead, I decide to let it go and try to enjoy the moment. It’s not like she’s making fun of me or anything.

“To girl’s night.” Julianna holds up her glass and I clink the edge of mine against it.

We both take a long sip and the wine is surprisingly smooth as it coats my tongue and splashes down my throat. Almost instantly, heat spreads out over my cheeks, eager to tattle to the world that I’ve had a taste of liquor. This is exactly why I don’t bother sneaking any out of Sylvia’s collection. She has more than enough that she’d never notice it missing, but my instantly flushed cheeks would tell on me right away.

“That’s really good.” I take another drink and can’t believe there’s already a tingling sensation in my head. Wow, I better take it slow before I end up doing something stupid.

Well, something stupider, that is.

“I’m glad you like it.” Julianna takes a seat on my bed and maneuvers one of my pillows behind her back like a little chair. “So, what’s the deal with the romance books? Shouldn’t you be out at the clubs picking up your own sexy man rather than reading about them in some book?” She pries.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and swirl my wine glass, watching the dark drink slosh around like I might find the perfect answer to give her in there. How can I possibly explain that I’ll never have that life? I don’t want to get into my status and I’d rather not tell her too many details about this arrangement with Sylvia. And I’m definitely not going to get into how I left my country as a teen virgin and how that never changed.

“I just don’t like that whole scene,” I finally answer her. “I’m not looking for a hook-up,” I confess. “I want romance. But romance takes time, and that’s something I don’t have much of. I just have to accept that the only romances I’ll be getting are the ones written between the covers of a book.” I take another long sip, hoping the warm trail of wine will drown out my sorrows.

“What? That’s crazy talk.” Julianna sits up straight and places her glass down on the nightstand next to my bed. “This is the modern age, Ella. If you want to go out and have magical, romantic nights, you can do that. Easily too.” She reaches inside her bra and pulls out her cell phone. “I know you’ve got one of these, so you must be on Tinder, right?”

“Tinder?” I crinkle up my nose as I repeat the word. “No, I’m not on anything like that,” I admit.

I bite my tongue before a confession spills off of it. I can’t tell Julianna that the phone I have is just a wireless chain for Sylvia to yank on whenever she needs me. Explaining about how she regularly goes through it, inspecting the messages, would definitely create more questions than I want to answer.

“Really, but it’s perfect for you,” she insists, opening her screen with her password. She hits the app and turns her phone toward me. “Look, you just set up your profile and you get to choose what guy you go out on a date with. If it’s a match, you have a little chat with him to sort out the details, and boom, you can have all the romance you want, whenever it’s convenient for you.” She tries to sell me on it.

I stare at her screen and find myself wondering if this could be the perfect solution for someone like me. I don’t have any delusions that it’s going to lead me into the arms of my future husband or anything, but it could let me get out and experience some dates on rare occasions when Sylvia isn’t around.

“I don’t know, it looks hard to set up.” I twist up my lips as I imagine myself trying to figure out my profile.

“No way, it’s so easy,” she insists. “You just open the app with your Facebook profile and, easy-peasy, you’re good to go.”

“I, uh, don’t have a Facebook profile,” I admit. “And I don’t really want to set one up either.” I start to shut down this whole idea. I know it’s not going to work out for me.

“Why? You know you can activate and deactivate it whenever, right? Here, let me help you set it up and if you don’t like the app, we’ll shut it all back down tonight. I’ll completely delete the apps from your phone, I promise. But, what if you find someone you really like on there? Or, oh, what if you find a romantic match? You’ll never know if you don’t try.” Julianna lifts her glass and takes another huge gulp.

She’s right, it doesn’t sound like I really have anything to lose by setting it up. I stand up suddenly and walk the couple steps across my room to my dresser, plucking my cell from it and bringing it over. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.” I smile, holding it out to her. “But you have to show me how to get rid of it, all right?”

“Deal.” She grabs the phone from my hand with a smile and gets to work.

* * *

“Ahhh, but, Daddy, I’m not even tired.” Chloe rubs her eyes and stamps her foot at the same time.

This is the nightly routine. I tell her she’s got to hit the hay and she whines, trying to convince me that I’m wrong. It never works, and yet, she tries. Every. Single. Night.

“Chloe, come on, hon. Don’t you want to grow up to be a big, strong girl? You need to get some sleep to do that, right?” I go into my regular explanation about the importance of resting your body. Even I’m tired of hearing it at this point.

“Daddy, you silly-billy, I am a big girl. I can even turn on the lights all by myself.” She puffs up her little chest proudly. Reaching the soaring heights of three and a half feet has really gone to her head.

I smile down at her. In a way, I’m happy she’s a willful child. I know firsthand how unforgiving and cruel the world can be. I hope Chloe will never learn anything about that side of life, about that darkness. However, I know I can’t control her world forever. Next year, she’ll be off to kindergarten, and then she’ll be making more and more decisions without my input. Small ones at first, like if she should drink that extra chocolate milk or not. However, the time will morph, and before I know it, she’ll be an independent teenager dealing with mean girls, parties, and the biggest fear of all...boys. It’s then that I hope this fire in her belly serves her well. I hope by then she hasn’t lost her edge and that she isn’t afraid to stand up for herself in any situation.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when she’s stubbornly stomping her feet and refusing to go to bed anyway.

“Hey, Chloe,” Ryan interrupts our power struggle.

“Uh, yeah?” she answers uncertainly. She’s not used to having another man in the house with us. While she’s not afraid of Ryan, she’s a little nervous around him.

“I’ll tell ya what. How about I do an extra special magic trick for you? Would you like that?” He leans forward.

Chloe looks up at me and then over at Ryan, nodding her head emphatically.

“All right, it’ll take me a second to set up. But, there’s just one catch.” “You have to go to bed right after, okay?”

My daughter tilts her head and mulls it over for a second. Like she’s not sure if this offer is going to be worth her time or not. She tugs on her lip, something she only does when she’s deep in thought, then smiles up at him. “Okay.”

“Hey, man, do you have a black marker?” Ryan shifts his gaze to me and stands up.

“Uh, let me check.” I walk into the kitchen and shuffle through the drawer that ends up being a magnet for all my junk. Sure enough, there’s a sharpie crammed in amongst the pile of stuff.

I go back into the living room and hand it off to Ryan like a mini-baton in a relay race. He pops the cap and turns his back on us for a second, hunching his shoulders to obstruct our view.

“No peeking!” he calls out, but neither of us would dream of it. Chloe is very interested in what the trick is going to be. I have to admit, he’s got my interest too.

“Okay, all ready.” Ryan caps the marker and shoves it in his pocket. I can see he’s drawn a little circle around the tips of each of his middle fingers. “Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls of all ages. Please take a seat here and be prepared to enjoy the magic,” Ryan directs us to the couch as Chloe giggles.

“He’s silly.” She grins.

“He sure is,” I agree, taking a seat beside her.

Ryan stands before us with both of his hands behind his back and dramatically pauses. “Tonight’s show is called Two Little Blackbirds,” he announces and holds out the middle fingers on each hand with the black drawn onto them.

“Ohhh.” Chloe is already impressed.

“Two little blackbirds are sitting on a wall.” Ryan holds up his closed fists to us. “One named Peter and one named Paul.” Up go his middle fingers. “Fly away, Peter.” He taps his fists together and drops his one middle finger, lifting his unmarked ring finger up instead. “Fly away, Paul.” He quickly does the same thing on the other hand.

Chloe watches intently, but I don’t think she caught the sleight of hand. Her mouth opens a little as she sees true magic through her child eyes.

“Come back, Peter.” Ryan smacks his fists together again and switches back to his marked middle finger. “And come back Paul.” He brings back his other marked finger while hiding his ring finger.

“Wow.” Chloe gapes at me with wide eyes. “Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“That was so cool! Can you do it again, Ryan? Pleeeease?” She twists her hands together in excitement.

“Tomorrow night I’ll have another magic show, but that’s it for tonight.” He smiles.

“Now you know you promised to go to bed after, right? So let’s go get your butt to bed.” I hold my hand on her back, urging her to move without any more stalling.

“Oh, okay. But I can have another magic show tomorrow, right? Promise?”

“I promise.” He nods solemnly.

I lead Chloe down to the bathroom and we get her teeth brushed. Getting her to bed is still a journey even when she’s not being uncooperative. I tuck her into bed, read her Goodnight Moon, and give her a kiss on the forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Daddy,” she calls out before tugging her blankets up to her chin and snuggling in for the night.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.” I smile and turn off the light.

Back in the living room, I can see that Ryan has started helping himself to the liquor. It’s not like I mind. I don’t even keep any in the house anymore. I only bought some rum because I knew he was coming to see us.

“Thanks for that. You cut at least twenty minutes off the normal routine,” I admit and sink down into the chair next to the sofa.

“No worries. My grandfather used to do that trick for us as kids. I really liked it. I’m just glad I didn’t mess it up.” He takes a long drink. “Speaking of magic, where did all the single ladies in Denver disappear to? I’ve got a, uh, magic wand I’d like to introduce them to.” He chuckles at his own joke and then empties his glass in one long gulp.

“Honestly, I’m not going to be much help on that one,” I admit. “I haven’t been out since I left the SEALs. Well, since they discharged me.” I taste the bitterness on my tongue still, even after all this time.

“No.” He looks at me from the corner of his blue eyes. “No fucking way.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“It’s true.”

“What? Why are you living like a monk, man? You gotta get out there, have some fun! Spread your wild oats and all that shit.” He gets up and makes himself another drink.

“I dunno. I think I’m just done with that part of my life now. I’ve got Chloe and responsibilities now. Not all of us can just drive across the country, partying it up and chasing pussy in every state.” I laugh.

“Not every state,” he answers as he walks back in the room with two drinks this time, handing one over to me.

I take a tiny sip but have no real interest in getting drunk tonight. I don’t want to be out of it in case Chloe needs me for anything. It’s something I can never really explain to a wild man like Ryan, but children change you. Or at least, they should. And I have no regrets or lingering longing for my old life. Especially not when I remember where my old life led me to.

“Look, buddy, while I’m here, let me babysit the little rugrat and get out and have some fun. Just go on a date. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand expectantly and for some reason I hand it over to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for your Tinder app.” He sinks back down into the sofa and swipes my screen, searching.

“I’m not on Tinder,” I answer flatly.

Ryan sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Okay then, step one: get on Tinder.” He messes around with my phone and pushes some buttons. “Done.”

“Hey, I don’t think I want to be on there. It’s not my style, man.” I try to reach for my phone, but Ryan pulls it in tight to his chest.

“Step two: swipe right for a match. Done.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I wrench the phone from his hand.

“Whatever, just swipe right on every chick on there, got it? Then, eventually you’ll get a match. Talk to her, arrange a date, and voila, you’re back in the game,” he announces.

I don’t think I want to be back in the game. At least not like he means. Just trying to get laid as much as possible with no strings attached. If I did go out on a date, I’d be looking for something more. Something meaningful. Someone who was ready to take on Chloe and me. Not just a lay.

An orange dot next to the woman Ryan randomly swiped right on draws my attention to the screen. She’s stunning. I know he didn’t even check her face when he selected her, but she’s breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t stop staring at her picture.

At her.

“What’s up?” Ryan juts out his jaw at me.

“Nothing. It says ‘matched’ and I’m just looking at the woman. She’s… wow,” I answer.

“Wait, it says you matched up? Really? What are the fucking chances of that, man? Guess what? You’re going on a date.” He grins.

“Uh, well.” I don’t really want to argue. After perusing the woman, her gorgeous honey skin and brown eyes, she looks like a real person. A wholesome girl I would genuinely like to get to know, and not just the way Ryan was thinking.

“Do it, man. I’ll babysit the kid. Go out and have a night of fun for once!” He holds up his glass like he’s expecting me to clink mine against it and then shrugs, gulping it down.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her and see how it goes,” I agree. “But one thing is one hundred percent not happening.”

“What’s that?”

“You are definitely not babysitting Chloe. If”—I squint at the screen and read the woman’s name—“Ella and I go out, I’ll have my mom over.” I laugh.

“Sure, sure, whatever. So, what are you waiting for? Talk to her!”

* * *

“Annnnd, I think you’re just about all set. Ella, you’re so beautiful in all these pics.” Julianna admires her work. When she told me we would have a girl’s night, I never imagined we would be setting me up for a date on Tinder. If I’m honest, I didn’t know what to imagine at all. It’s been a long time since I’ve had real friends in my life.

Empty bottles of wine litter the floor and I wobble on my shaky legs like a newborn colt, giggling foolishly at the pile of laundry with every single piece of clothing that hasn’t fit Sylvia over the years strewn across the bed. All her designer dresses, shoes, sweaters, and pants are lying there, finally being worn for the first time since they were bought.

Julianna did a little fashion shoot on my phone to make it appear like I have normal profile pictures on Facebook. Of course, it would look really weird to have a bunch of shots of me wearing the exact same clothes, so she had me try on variations of everything in my drawers and pose around the house like she’s trying to get a cover shot for Vogue.

It was fun, even if the images aren’t really real. Obviously the backgrounds in the photos aren’t really my house. The clothes aren’t mine either. But it was a fun way to spend a night, playing dress up and imagining the potential prince charming I’ll meet on my secret night out. That is, if I even go. It’s one thing to play pretend in here, with Julianna, but it’s another thing entirely to throw caution to the wind and actually go out on a real date.

“Wow, I think this is the winner.” She turns the phone toward me to see what she’s talking about. “This should totally be your profile picture.” She taps the screen. I take in the picture of me in the dress Sylvia threw over my head the other day and a smile twists up over my lips. I want her to use that picture more than anything. I want to look like the woman Sylvia wishes she could be, wearing her dress, a dress she’ll never fit into and find a date that would make Raymond look like the sad, pathetic boy he is.

“Use it.” My voice is eerily calm after how slurry my words have been all night.

“Done and done.” Julianna flicks her fingers across the phone and sets everything up. “Now, to use Tinder, you just open the app,” she instructs me as she does it, “connect the profile, and, there you go. You’re all set up. Now, you go through the profiles of the guys and if you’re not interested, left swipe the screen.” She moves over to me on the bed and shows me what she means, flicking an elderly man off to the left.

A new picture of a heavyset, balding man with glasses and a leering smile is up next. “Left swipe.” I giggle. Julianna flicks her wrist.

“Ugh, why are you getting all the weirdos? Left swipe!” She flicks the next guy off the screen before I really have a chance to see him. However, the guy who pops up next makes me sit up tall and I grab the phone out of her hand before she has a chance to send him off into the ether.

“Right swipe! Is that what I do? I want to meet him.” My voice is breathy as my heartbeat quickens. On my phone is a man with brown hair and gray eyes. His smile is natural and his body is so perfectly sculpted it’s making my own body react in ways I’ve only ever felt when I’ve been alone late at night and let my fingers slip under the edge of my panties, down between my legs.

“Yes.” Julianna laughs at how frantic I am and I flick my twitchy finger across the screen, holding my breath.

“Now what?” I raise my eyebrows as I wait for something, anything, to happen.

“Now you keep going through the profiles and if he wants to meet up with you, you’ll get a match,” she answers matter-of-factly.

Well, not exactly exciting or magical. Way to kill the buzz. I check the screen, disappointed that there isn’t some way to make him find me faster.

“Uh, what’s the orange circle for? Oh”—I take a closer look—“wait a sec, I think he right swiped me too.” Excitement bubbles up inside as I bounce on the bed.

“Really? Talk to him, set up a date.”

Reality brings this fantasy to a grinding halt. “I can’t meet up with him. When am I going to go? Where would I even see him? My boss is back in two days.” I start making excuses.

“Go to the fair, see if he can meet you there tomorrow. It’s just one night of magic, right? Just so you can experience some of this romance.” She pats the Harlequin on my nightstand. “The fair is close to here and it’s super fun. Come on,” she pleads with me, “I didn’t set you all up so you could get cold feet at the last second. Just give it a shot.” She nudges me in the ribs.

I look at Julianna and then back at the screen. I would like to see what it’s like to go out and have some fun for once. And he is easy on the eyes. I let my thumbs hover over the screen for a second and then start typing. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” I answer her and Julianna cheers like her team just won the championship.

Then I realize I have nothing to wear to go out. I don’t have fancy clothes. I don’t have anything. Self-doubt creeps up inside me. I stop texting and my shoulders slump over.

“What’s wrong now?” Julianna frowns at me.

“I don’t have any proper clothes,” I protest.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She nods to the pile of designer labels on the bed.

My eyes grow wide. “Oh no, I couldn’t…”

“Why not? You said yourself your boss is out of town. She’ll never know. It’s just one night. Pick an outfit and go. Put it back when you’re done. She’ll never have a clue.” Julianna puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Well, it is just one night.” I let myself get persuaded. “And she is in San Diego right now.” I build up on Julianna’s logic.

“Exactly. No more excuses. Set it up and have some fun for once.” She smiles.

“You’re right.” I nod and go back to texting the man I swiped right on: Jackson. “It’s about time I had a night of my own.”

* * *

“Oh, you look so handsome!” Mom brushes her hands over my shoulders and smiles proudly. The lines etched into her skin fold deep as she picks a tiny speck of fluff free from my arm.

“You don’t think it’s too dressy?” I take stock of the navy blue, button-down shirt uncertainly. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone on a date. It’s been an even longer time since I’ve gone to the county fair. I’ve been second-guessing my decisions about every aspect of this date all day. You’d think I was nervous or something.

“Not at all, you’re handsome. Doesn’t Daddy look wonderful, Chloe?” Mom calls over to my daughter, who is in the middle of kicking Ryan’s ass at a game of Candyland.

“You’re okay,” she answers slowly, giving me a squinty, critical eye. “Oh, Daddy, don’t go yet. I have just the perfect thing for you to look bee-you-tiful!”

Before I have a chance to answer, she leaps from the chair and thumps down the hall, disappearing into her room. Seconds later, she’s rushing back up toward me, grinning so wide her smile takes up the entire lower half of her face while she holds one hand behind her back.

“Here you go, Daddy.” She thrusts out her hand at me, confident that she has the secret ingredient that will make this night magic in her palm.

I can’t help but laugh. Mom and Ryan look over and burst out into a fit of loud laughter. Chloe’s holding out her favorite princess tiara for me in all of its sparkly, pink glory.

“Now that is exactly what you need. Trust me, man, I’ve seen this in action and no woman can resist Princess Jackson.” He laughs.

“No, he’s Princess Sophia.” Chloe pouts a little at the laughter and keeps holding out the gift insistently. “Take it, Daddy.” She grins.

When a four-year-old hands you her favorite tiara for your date night, you take it. I gently place it on top of my neatly combed hair and my heart almost bursts when I see the sparkle of pride and happiness in my daughter’s eyes.

“See”—she points her chunky finger up at my head—“now you’re ready to go.”

“I’ve gotta get a picture of this.” Ryan whips out his cell phone and grabs a quick shot before I have a chance to react. I shrug it off. I don’t care if I look silly. Obviously I’ll take it off in the car, but right now the joy it brings Chloe is worth a dumb picture.

“Okay, I’m all set now. Thanks, Chloe.” I lift her from the ground and swing her around in a hug as she squeals happily. “Now, I want you to be a good girl for Nana and Ryan, okay? Go to bed properly and I’ll see you in the morning.” I give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I will,” she answers solemnly, “as long as Ryan does his magic trick again.”

“You strike a hard bargain, kid.” Ryan smirks. “I think we can work that out, though.”

I put Chloe back down and she runs over to finish the Candyland game.

“Bye Daddy.” She doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she dismisses me for the night. It’s not like this is the first time she’s been babysat by my mother. With my job in security, she’s had many evenings where Mom has been the one to tuck her into bed. However, I thought she might be a bit nervous about having Ryan here too. As I gaze over at their rousing board game, I know I have nothing to worry about.

Who knows, maybe this will all work out and I’ll have a great night.

“Okay, get going. I don’t want you to leave the young lady waiting.” Mom urges me to get moving.

“I’m going, don’t worry.” I give her a half hug with one arm as I wave goodbye with the other. “See you later, Chloe. And be good.”

“She will be,” Ryan answers, waving me off.

“I wasn’t talking to her. You behave yourself too.” I give Ryan a pointed stare and then nod down at my mom, making it perfectly clear that she’s off-limits. He shakes his head, smiling.

“I will.” He laughs.

I take one last look at what could be a Norman Rockwell painting of my family. My mother, a man I chose to be my brother, and the daughter who found me. It’s just perfect. I head out to the car, taking a quick glimpse in the rear-view mirror as I turn the key in the ignition. The tiara is still resting on my head. Tugging it off, I toss it over onto the passenger seat and chuckle. That could’ve been an interesting icebreaker. Now I’m ready to find out if this is the perfect beginning to a perfect night, or if this is the beginning of a perfect disaster.

* * *

I twist my ring around my finger, lifting it up to the tip before sliding it back down again as I stare out into the parking lot beside the main entrance. There’s a distinctive nip of autumn in the air as a breeze fragrant with cotton candy and French fries swirls up around me. I pull the Chanel sweater closed and search the rowdy crowd for a face I’ve only ever seen on Tinder.

I love the brisk, fresh air in the fall. It’s such a clear reminder that the long and hazy days of summer are over and the bitter cold days of winter are just ahead. I could do without the winter part, if I’m honest, but autumn has such a nostalgia about it. It just transports your thoughts to other times, other places. Like when my mother was still alive and the world wasn’t so bleak. I can remember her making us natilla on the weekends when we had our huge family dinners. The mixture of all the spices and sweetness wasn’t all that different than the scents whipping around me now.

This ring, with its simple gold band and row of tiny diamonds encrusting it, once rested on her finger. It was her wedding band. I remember admiring it for hours as a young child, asking her tons of questions about their wedding and creating a fairy-tale in my mind. When she was taken from me, my father gave me her ring. He told me that it was always her wish to give it to me one day, although not under such horrific circumstances. My mind slips back to the night I was shipped away.

“Take this, Ella. Your mother, she wanted you to have it.” Tears lined his eyes as he handed me the humble band.

“No, you should keep it,” I argued in hushed whispers. The truth was, even though the ring was tiny, it carried a heavy weight. Knowing that it was on my mother’s hand when she died, it was too much for me.

“Please, Ella.” He looked over his shoulder and pleaded with me urgently. “Someday, when you and I meet again, you can give it back to me, okay? But for now, hold onto it. Keep it close to your heart. One day you’ll be happy you have something that meant so much to her.” He dropped the ring in my palm and shut my fingers tight over it before lifting me into the back of the truck and disappearing into the night.

I found out after I crossed the border that the men who killed my family found my father. They eventually ended his life too, leaving his almost unrecognizable body in the street outside our house like a head on a pike. A grim warning to anyone else who would consider crossing the Úsuga Clan.

The ring has given me a constant connection to my mother over the years. A glimmer of light shines off the modest diamonds. The same ones I stared at as a child on her finger, and feel closer to her. My father was right. I’m happy I have her ring. After I lost everything else, I still have this symbol of love that once lay on her hand.

Blinking away my tears, I tug my phone out of my bag, checking the time again and any missed messages. It’s not that he’s that late. Only ten minutes so far, but I’m already nervous that I’ve made a huge mistake by coming out here. This is so unlike me. In six years, I’ve never snuck around behind Sylvia’s back for anything. I haven’t even snuck any of the good food that she sets aside for her and Raymond in the fridge. I’ve obeyed every rule. I’ve never made a fuss or given her any reason to get rid of me. And now what am I doing? Going out on a date with a man I don’t know in clothes that aren’t mine, pretending to be someone I’m not just by how I’m dressed.

This is a mistake. I should leave.

“Hey, chiquita! Wanna check out my banana?” A young, decent looking man walks up to me with his hand on his crotch. For a brief second I blink and hope I’m not looking at Jackson. From a distance, it’s hard to see the details of his face. Plus, people put up pictures of themselves on the Internet all the time that aren’t exactly accurate. I’m relieved to see it’s not him as he approaches, but I’m so stunned by his blatant rudeness that my cheeks flush and I avert my gaze to the ground, not wanting to say anything to encourage him.

“I bet you’d love to have a big ol’ banana in your mouth, wouldn’t ya?” His breath billows over me and makes my stomach lurch. Clearly he’s been drinking. His eyes are bleary and his words reek of a mixture of alcohols.

“Sir, I’m waiting for my friend.” I try to step back, but I thump into someone and get even more flustered. I turn around and am pressed up tight to a tall, hard-bodied man with gun-metal gray eyes that are intensely staring down the drunken jerk at my back.

It’s Jackson. I’ve never been so happy to see someone and so nervous at the same time. He pulls me into him, wrapping his arm around me and stepping me over to his side. His thick forearm falls so naturally around my waist. Like the curve of my hip was designed just for him.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to my girl?” He snarls at the drunken idiot like he might just jump on him and tear his throat out with his teeth.

“Hey, man, I, uh, I was just playing.” The walking liquor cabinet holds up his hands like he’s ready to go off with the police peacefully and he slowly steps back away from us.

“Get out of here and don’t let me see you around her again.” Jackson juts out his jaw, narrowing his eyes.

The drunken banana man twists on his heel and takes off. Why are the biggest talkers always the biggest cowards?

Gratitude swells up inside me as my heartbeat thuds out of control in my chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“I know that’s not the best way to introduce myself. Sorry about that. I just hate that crap. I was never a big fan of guys like that, but now that I have a daughter, it makes me crazy,” he explains as he drops his arm from my waist.

“Don’t apologize.” I find myself wishing he’d pull me back in close. That he’d keep holding me tight against him, protectively showing the world he’s not afraid to take on anyone to keep me safe.

“I’m Jackson.” His eyes twinkle as he holds out his hand.

“Ella.” I shake it with a smile. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Maybe this is the magical night I’ve been craving for all these years.

* * *

I get lost in the golden warmth of her brown eyes, the gently sun-kissed honey hue of her skin, her long mahogany locks, and her thick, perfect pout. I blink hard and force myself to stop staring, only to realize I’ve been shaking her hand for an uncomfortably long time. I let go and drop mine by my side, nervous and uncertain about my game, like a kid who finally had the training wheels removed from his bike.

“How about we go inside? Do you like going on any of the rides?” I lead her up to the ticket counter and buy us a couple of bracelets.

“I’m not sure.” Her eyebrows scrunch together.

“Haven’t you ever gone to the fair before?” I watch as she fidgets with her ring and looks around at the overwhelming collage of people yelling from game booths. She stares at the flashing lights as adrenaline-fueled screams coming from the rides assault our ears. It’s easy to get intimidated by the bustling crowd that’s buzzing around from spot to spot like bees collecting nectar from the last flowers of the season.

“Uh, me? Yes, yes, of course. Just, um, I haven’t been to one since I was a little kid. Back then I just went on the merry-go-round.” She stands a little taller, throwing back her shoulders.

“Oh, well, normally I love the fast, crazy ones.” I point to a rickety zipper whipping people around inside as blasting music competes with the shrieks inside. “But, maybe we’ll just stick to stuff where we can actually talk. Oh, first, though, how about I win you a prize?”

I scan over the maze of people shuffling around until I see the games where you can win huge stuffed animals for shooting targets. Perfect. This will be an awesome way to break the ice.

“Win me a prize? Sure, I’d love that.” She smiles up at me and it literally takes my breath away.

For a second my lungs burn as I remind myself to breathe and act normal. She’s just simply stunning. Her beauty is so natural. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about makeup, although I’m sure once Chloe hits that age I’ll learn a lot. However, I can tell when women have bright eyeshadows on or crimson lipstick staining their lips. Not Ella. Her dewy skin almost glows under the bright lights of the fair. Her youthful beauty catches me off guard, leaving me staring at her... again.

“Are we, I mean, did you want to go?” She raises an eyebrow and I make myself look away from her. Enough of this.

“Yes, let’s go.” I hold out my arm and Ella giggles as she loops hers through and I lead her across the fairgrounds.

Strutting up to the target game, I know I’ve got this one in the bag. “Once upon a time I was a Navy SEAL,” I brag as her eyes grow a bit wider. “You just pick out which of the big prizes you want, ’cause I’m gonna destroy this target.” I slide my five bucks across the counter to the attendant. He rolls his eyes at me and hands me a plastic gun like he’s never done anything so boring in his life.

Ella stands to the side, holding her hands over her ears as I take aim at the little bull’s-eye across from me. I lift the ridiculously light gun, take aim, and fire off the rounds in a smooth discharge.

Smirking, I look over at the attendant expectantly. “Just tell him which one you want, Ella.” I nod, but the man behind the counter shakes his head at me slowly.

“Not so fast there, special ops, you only hit the target twice. You have to hit it five times to get one of those guys.” He points a dirty finger up at the human-sized pink bears and giant gorillas holding stuffed hearts.

“What? No way, lemme see that.” I squint at the circles in disbelief. The carny grabs the sheet and tugs it off, handing it to me.

“That’s okay, it’s no big deal.” Ella tries to soothe my wounded ego.

Sure enough, he wasn’t lying. I only managed to fire two holes into the paper target. I hang my head in shame. “These things are rigged,” I mutter as my cheeks blaze bright. “Well, what does two shots win then?” I demand, frowning at the smugness on the carny’s face.

“Anything from the bottom row.” He points to a wasteland of plastic trinkets and junk lining the shelf below the targets.

“I’ll take that one.” Ella points to a pathetic stuffed owl and the man behind the counter grabs it for her.

“Let’s go.” I shake my head. “So much for that.” I laugh at how embarrassingly bad I did. “Maybe I should’ve kept the whole SEAL thing to myself.” I wince.

“Oh, don’t say that. It’s a cute owl. Didn’t you say you have a daughter? You should give it to her. I bet she’d really like it.” Ella holds it out to me and I put my hand over my heart like she just managed to hit five bullets into it.

“What? You don’t want this amazing prize I won you? Wait, did I, uh, mention that I was a SEAL? I mean, are you sure you want to give away something someone with so much specialized training won you?” I joke with her and she laughs.

“Well, when you put it that way… yes.” She giggles and holds it out to me.

“Actually, Chloe will love it, so thank you.” I grab the pink owl and stuff it in my pocket. “How about we hit up the Ferris wheel instead? I think the view will be nice at this time of night. I mean, I probably shouldn’t oversell it after this, but I think it’ll be nice.” I can’t help but get lost in her eyes. They pull me in, making me wish I could know everything about her instantly and completely. She looks young, but she has such a soulful depth to her eyes. Like she’s already lived a few lifetimes.

“I’d love to.” She tilts her head up at me and I have to stop myself from grabbing her in my arms and kissing her. Instead, somehow I step away from the intense magnetic pull I feel toward her and lead her across the fairgrounds, guiding her with my arm wrapped around her waist, and enjoy this moment.

* * *

The elderly man running the Ferris wheel double-checks that the bar is locked into place and gives me a wink before pushing a button that makes our seat swing up to the next spot on the wheel. I grip onto the bar tight, not used to the sensation of the rocking seat.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” Jackson peers down at my hands, concern clouding his gray eyes.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” I reassure him. “Ahhh!” I let out a small, involuntary yelp as the seat sails up higher and then comes to an abrupt stop.

“This is all normal.” He slides his arm around my shoulders, the warmth of his body enveloping me as it presses against mi

The faint smell of his musk teases me, making me breathe him in. For a moment, the sway of the seat, the constant background noise of the fair, even the chill of the night, all slip away from us. My gaze drifts down over the trim hairs shadowing his jaw and to his lips. What would it feel like to kiss him? What would it be like to lose myself in him, in his eyes, in his arms, in his bed…

The last thought jerks me back to reality with a blazing heat burning over my cheeks. I flash him a guilty smile, afraid he can somehow read my thoughts.

“Hey.” He tilts his head and tries to capture my gaze again, but I look away.

I play with my ring, tugging it up my finger and pushing it back down as we move up higher in the air. Almost all the seats are full now. It won’t be long until we’re whirling around in the night, side by side.

“What’s going on in that pretty mind? You look like you’re deep in thought.” He pulls me closer into him and I can’t help but inhale him shamelessly into my lungs.

I can’t tell him the racing, dirty thoughts I’m having. I can’t tell him that, although I’ve had them before, I’ve never had the chance to act on any of them. I’ve never even been kissed by a man, let alone claimed by one. Before I left my country, I had been on exactly two dates. One ended with a nervous handshake while my father watched from the front step and one ended with a soft, quick kiss on the lips. I’ve never had one of those passionate kisses you see in movies. I’ve never experienced the tantalizing magic I’ve read about so often in my books.

“I’m just admiring the view.” I nod out to the horizon of twinkling city lights, only half-lying to him.

“So am I,” he answers, never taking his eyes off me. I’m not sure what to say. Luckily, the Ferris wheel lurches into action and the moment passes without me needing to say a word. The lights swirl by us as we slide down the other side of the giant circle, only to begin to climb back up the other side. “Tell me about yourself, Ella. I take it you’re not from here, right?”

His question makes me sit a little taller and tug on my ring faster than before.

“Why do you say that?” I try not to sound defensive or frightened. Have I done something or said something that makes him think I’m an illegal? My mind races with worst-case scenarios and threats I’ve been hearing from Sylvia for years now.

“You have a slight accent,” he explains, watching my face closely.

“Ah, yes.” I force a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right. I was born in Colombia.” My heart beats fast as I try to think of how to change the subject. “How about you? You mentioned you have a little girl. How old is she?” The stress is making my voice come out a little higher than normal. I hold my breath and hope he will move on from his questions.

“Chloe, yeah, she’s my world.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as he moves on.

“She’s four and she is a handful.” He looks out at the view below us as we crest the top of the wheel.

“It’s unusual for a father to have custody, isn’t it?” I can tell that my question has made him just as uncomfortable as the ones he was asking me. I wish I could take it back immediately. I’m only trying to make conversation, but the pain that just flashed over his face tells me I’ve struck a nerve.

“It is,” he answers simply. “Her mother died in a car accident just over a year ago. It was complicated, but I have full custody now.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be. We hadn’t known each other for a long time before that. It was an awful loss for Chloe, but I like to think that we’ve helped each other through.”

“She’s lucky to have you.” I place my hand over the one he has resting on the bar. The lights swirl around us like a Van Gogh painting. Everything about this moment is surreal and beautiful.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, looking down at my lips with hunger in his eyes.

The desire to kiss him is bubbling right beneath the surface. I want to surrender to him, to have his lips pressed into mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. My nipples pebble and I lean into Jackson. His head hovers over me, his mouth getting closer and closer. His scent intoxicates me, getting me drunk on his manly musk.

Ka-chunk!

I don’t mean to scream, but the Ferris wheel comes to a grinding halt. Literally. It sounded like some kind of gear ground together and our chair is wildly flailing about just as we were starting to come down the other side.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Jackson pulls me into his chest and I try to get my breathing under control.

“It didn’t sound okay.” I notice the man running the ride frowning and pushing some buttons. “Oh no, it’s stuck.” Panic rises up inside me.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” He runs his hand over my hair and my heartbeat begins to slow. I snuggle against his chest, listening to the music of his heart singing a melody just for me. It’s soothing, being in his strong arms, surrounded by bright lights. It’s all like a dream.

Cree-unck!

The Ferris wheel starts back up again, slowly edging us back down toward the ground. The attendant lets people off the ride, loudly informing them that it’s shut down for the rest of the night. Before I know it, our seat has reached the bottom and he’s sending us on our way. My enchanting moment with Jackson has passed, but the night is still young. As we walk out from the barrier surrounding the wheel, I hear a song that puts a smile on my face and a bounce in my step.

“Do you hear that?” I grin up at Jackson, the music overwhelming me. “It’s ‘Despacito.’”

With the adrenaline of our faulty Ferris wheel ride and our almost kiss still pumping through my veins, a surge of energy I haven’t felt in a long time invigorates me. And there’s only one thing you can do when you’re feeling this vibrant and the music is this good.

“Let’s dance.” I grab his hands and pull him to the side of one of the food carts.

* * *

“Wait, what?” I rub my hand over the side of my face and watch in stunned silence as Ella lifts her arms up and begins to hypnotically sway her hips to the song.

“Let’s dance,” she repeats, rolling her head back and letting her long hair cascade down over her shoulders, kissing her hips. I wish I could kiss those hips. My mouth waters as I let my mind wander to a place where I’m licking a sensual trail over her thick curves and down between her legs to her sweet pussy.

“I’m not really a good dancer.” I look around self-consciously. There are some people stopping or slowing their pace to watch Ella roll her shoulders and shimmy her hips to the hottest song of the summer. However, I can’t be bothered to worry about them. After all, she clearly doesn’t give a shit what they think. So, why should I?

“Nonsense!” She reaches out and grasps my hands, tugging me toward her.

I could fight it. I could stand here like a statue, refusing to move. Refusing to live. Refusing to let this moment take me over. But why? Didn’t I come out tonight to have new experiences? Besides, there’s something so spellbinding about a woman who just throws caution to the wind and dances uninhibited like this when a song strikes her. Of course, the perfect jiggle of her full ass with each shake of her rounded hips definitely helps.

I let her guide me through the song, clumsily dancing some kind of bastardised version of a salsa that would make any instructor cringe. I don’t care, though. I don’t care if people are watching. I don’t care if they’re recording us on their phones. I pull her in tight to my body, watching the joy dance in her brown eyes and her body shimmy and shake in all the right places. I let myself get drawn into her world. Until it’s just us, just our bodies pressed together, just our feet walking each other back and forth, dancing to our song.

Her foot grinds under mine and she cries out in pain, “Oh!”

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” I stop and back up, looking down at her trampled shoe. “Are you okay? I told you I was a terrible dancer.” Heat rises up my neck like the mercury on a thermometer, spilling over my hairline as the embarrassment clings onto me.

That’s one way to break the spell. Cripple the woman. Ella tenderly places her foot down on the ground and forces a smile to her lips.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.” Her eyebrows reach skyward as she searches my face.

The crowd we never noticed gathering around begins to scatter, some laughing and shaking their heads as I grab onto Ella and pull her into my arms. “I swear I was born with a couple left feet,” I murmur.

“Well, I don’t know about that.” She laughs. “I think you just need a good teacher. I can show you a few things.” She leans into me and my thoughts swirl to an entirely different kind of dance I’d like her to show me. One where she’s naked and horizontal.

“Besides, I’m completely fine,” she reassures me. “See?” Her fingers clutch my hand and she twirls out across the grass before twirling back into me. Without thinking I dip her back in my arms, leaning over her. I softly cover her plump lips with a tender kiss.

* * *

I surrender in his arms, parting my lips for him as his tongue slides into my mouth, exploring mine. An electric shiver runs through my body, down my spine, and tingles through my limbs as he holds me safe against him. His kiss is everything I could ever dream of. It’s actually better, because it’s real.

In the distance, I can hear a tune. My body reacts to it before my mind does, knowing it’s something I can’t ignore. I stand up and Jackson holds me against his firm body. Stepping back slightly, he kisses me once, twice on the lips and then on the forehead. My heart is racing with wild thoughts as my body aches for more of his touch.

I know this isn’t the place for that, but I can’t help but wish we were somewhere a little more private. Somewhere he could strip me down and cover my entire body in those kisses, sending jolts and vibrations through every cell until he sent an entirely different type of jolt through me. When he makes me his.

I sigh and open my eyes, finally hearing the distant tune come into focus just as my eyes start to see his rugged face clearly again. It’s my special ringtone for Sylvia! I jam my hand in my bag and yank out my phone.

“Hijueputa,” I curse in Spanish as my thoughts spin so fast they make me dizzy as I would be if I went on one of these rides. How did I miss seven text messages and a phone call? My voicemail is blowing up with what I’m sure are angry threats. I pull back from Jackson and see the last few texts across my screen.

Sylvia: home early, come get us.

Sylvia: where ru?

Sylvia: taking a fucking uber!!!!

I check the timestamp on that last message. Sylvia sent it almost twenty minutes ago! “Oh God, I have to go.” A cold sweat breaks over my hairline as I look up into Jackson’s confused eyes.

“You have to go? Now? What’s going on?” He looks down at my screen, but I pull it out of his sight.

I don’t have time to explain any of this. I can’t tell him the first thing about my life with Sylvia, let alone the fact that I’m basically wearing her stolen wardrobe and sneaking out behind her back. I can’t explain how she pretty much owns me, or how I disobeyed her. And I definitely can’t explain how much worse my life is about to get if she finds out any of this.

“I’m sorry. I just, I can’t.” I leave Jackson in shock as I race through the fairgrounds toward the gate.

“Ella, come back!” he calls out, but he doesn’t try to chase me down.

Good thing. I don’t have time to stop and explain this to him. I’ve got to get back to the house before Sylvia and Raymond return. There’s no telling what she’ll do if she gets there first and sees me strolling in wearing her expensive dress and shoes. I have a pretty good idea of how it would go, though. I’m not prepared to live my life as the sexual property of the highest bidder.

It’s only ten blocks to the house. I can get there before them if I run. I stop just outside the gate and rip my shoes off my feet. Clutching them tight in my hand, I scurry down the sidewalk, desperate to beat Sylvia to the house. Desperate to keep my life the same. Desperate to keep living under Sylvia’s rule.

* * *

Before I can even blink, Ella has disappeared into the crowd, running away from me frantically. I rub my hand over the back of my neck and pace back and forth. I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. It was probably too much, too soon. Ella doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who jumps into bed on the first date and she probably thought that’s where I was trying to take this.

“Fuck!” I slam my fist into my palm and look up at the angry mother giving me the stink eye for swearing in front of her son. He must be about ten years old, so I doubt I’m saying anything he hasn’t heard, but I still know better. “Sorry.” I grimace at my outburst.

She doesn’t say a word, giving me the side-eye as she shuffles her kid off to another part of the fair. I jam my balled up hands in my pockets and kick the compacted dirt as I walk aimlessly through the crowd.

Maybe I can get a hold of her on Tinder, talk to her and make her understand that I just got swept up in the moment. I didn’t mean to frighten her off like a timid deer racing away from the edge of the busy freeway at night. I hate that I ruined such a fun first date. Especially one where I had a genuine connection.

I grit my teeth, setting my jaw as I swerve around hordes of people enjoying their nights. Some eating cotton candy. Some laughing and joking around. Some holding big stuffed animals they won at the games booth. I smirk as I remember my own embarrassing attempt to win Ella one of those. Even that humiliating defeat was a highlight of the night for me. Just being next to her, just watching her smile, watching her enjoy life, it made this entire night better than I could have ever imagined it would be.

I look up at the darkened Ferris wheel and come to a stop outside the barricade surrounding it. I’m not sure why I walked back here. I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to where my feet were taking me. Part of me was hoping that if I stuck around for a bit maybe Ella would come back and explain what I did that made her run away from me like that.

Leaning against the metal gate, I look inside in a daze, hating how stupid I was for ruining the one date I’ve had since I was in the SEALs. My gaze travels across the ground when a shimmering glint catches my eye. It’s hard to see from where I’m standing, but is it? It almost looks like a ring lying on the ground underneath the wheel.

My mind flashes to the ring Ella was fidgeting with as her nerves got the better of her. Is it possible that she dropped it? I check over my shoulders in each direction but don’t see any kind of cops or security guard who’s going to give me a hard time. Placing both palms flat on the barricade, I easily leap over the side and quickly walk over to where I saw the shiny jewelry on the ground.

As I approach, it’s plain to see that it’s the exact same ring. I pick it up, dusting it off on my shirt before putting it in my pocket. What are the odds? There’s something about her, about us, that makes me feel it was all meant to be somehow. I don’t mean I’m about to go call up a wedding planner or save my money for an engagement ring. Nothing like that. But, in a smaller way, this night was supposed to happen.

Until I fucked it up, that is.

“Hey, buddy, get out of there. The ride is closed, ya dipshit!”

I turn toward the angry carny yelling at me and take that as my cue to get the hell out of here. I jog across to the other side of the fencing and hop back out, heading straight out of the fair to the main gate.

Maybe when I give it back to her she’ll hear me out and give me another chance to show her I’m not some kind of hormonal teenager posing as a man. First things first, though, I need to get a hold of her and let her know I found her ring.

* * *

My bare feet slap against the hard pavement as I race toward the house. Little rocks dig into my soles as I sprint like a woman in a horror movie trying to outrun the monster. In a way, I am that girl. The monster I’m trying to outrun is the terrifying existence I will have if I don’t beat Sylvia and Raymond home.

“Hey, watch it!” a random woman shouts at me as I brush past her, but I don’t have time to apologize. I don’t have time to do anything but run as fast as my thick legs and my beating heart will allow me to go. I know that the airport is only a half-hour drive from the house, so it will basically take a miracle for me to get there before them.

I pull the night air deep into my lungs and hold my shoes in one hand, my bag in the other, and pump my arms hard as I thump my feet against the sidewalk. Tender spots I’m sure will turn to blisters by morning are already forming. However, if a few blisters are my biggest problem tomorrow, I will be the luckiest girl in the world.

My thoughts grow unfocused as the memory of the night I escaped my country flashes behind my eyes. I ran with this same despair nipping at my heels, except that night it was literally a matter of life and death.

I can’t let my mind do this to me. I can’t think about that now. I didn’t risk everything to make it to the United States only to lose it like this. I kick up my speed, somehow finding a burst of energy I didn’t know I had, and dash across the last block to the house like an Olympian. I almost fall over onto the grass as I skid around the corner and up the driveway.

There’s no car here, but the Uber could’ve already dropped them off and left by now. I stand back up on my burning feet and climb the stairs to the side door, two at a time, and peer inside. There are no lights on in the house. I turn the knob on the door I left unlocked and tiptoe in over the threshold.

My soles are searing as I quickly make my way around the familiar furniture and stop dead in my tracks as headlights flood through the front window and eerily light up the room. They’re home. My muscles are frozen tight, like my fear has turned my legs to stone.

“Move, Ella,” I hiss and take the final painful steps to my room. I chuck Sylvia’s Jimmy Choo shoes under my bed along with the bag and dive in under my covers, tugging them up over the dress I borrowed from her closet for the night, and try to get my breathing under control. Sweat is dripping off my forehead as I hear Sylvia and Raymond walk into the house.

“Ella! Ella, you answer me right now! I called you a million times to come and get us.” Two sets of footsteps clomp down the hall, coming closer with every step to my room.

I quickly wipe my head on my sheet, pulling it tight up around my neck. I close my eyes and pray she doesn’t come in here. That she doesn’t find me wearing her clothes, sweating like a race horse. Please don’t come in here, please.

“Ella, what on earth are you doing?” My door opens and I gulp, playing dead, or at least pretending to sleep as light slides in across my room.

“Is she sleeping?” Raymond’s dim voice bounces off my eardrums.

“Ella!” Sylvia yells at me, but I don’t move. I just keep my eyes shut and my body perfectly still. Inside I’m pleading with God to send her on her way, but I’m pretty sure I’m completely screwed.

“Look, she’s all red and sweaty. I think she’s sick or something,” Raymond talks from my doorway as they both watch me.

“Well, I’ll be talking to her about this tomorrow. Sick or not, she should answer her phone. Anyway, let’s get out of here. I don’t want her swine flu or whatever.” I can almost hear her eyes roll as she turns in a huff and the door clicks closed behind them.

Tears streak down my face as I look up at my ceiling. “Thank you,” I quietly sob. “Thank you!”

I lie in my bed, perfectly still until I hear Sylvia plop down in the living room and turn on the television. “Ray-ray, come here. My show is on and I need a foot rub,” she beckons him like a dog. Of course, he complies. He knows the score. His comfortable lifestyle comes with a price and, if I were a betting girl, I’d say he’s going to pay it tonight.

I ease back out of my bed and free myself from the sticky sweater and silky dress now coated with my sweat. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. For now, I just stuff it in the back corner under my bed and slip into my normal pajamas. Looking down at my wrist, I lightly trail my finger over the wristband Jackson bought for me to get into the fair.

My thoughts flicker through the images of this evening, like an old, nostalgic woman thumbing through a family album. I touch my lips as I remember his kiss, the way he tasted. My heart gallops again, but this time it has nothing to do with running.

“And I’ll never see him again.” The words physically hurt to utter. They catch in my throat and tear out my heart. I wrap my fingers around the band and tear it free from my wrist, shoving it under my mattress before I climb back into bed.

My phone!

Hopping up, I drop down on my belly, stretching underneath my bed for the purse I tossed under there earlier. Fishing it out with my outstretched fingertips, I yank my phone out of the main pocket and open it up. It takes a second, but I remember the way Julianna showed me to delete the apps and I wipe them from existence.

Sighing with relief, I go back to bed and let my tense body slowly unwind as I relax against the mattress. My mind swirls with a cyclone of memories from the night, all of them so surreal, I already feel like I’m dreaming before I even close my eyes to rest.

* * *

“Yeah, man, it’s the weirdest thing.” I watch as Ryan packs up the saddlebags on his Harley. “I have no idea how to get a hold of her besides Tinder, and her profile has just disappeared. I had the best night with an amazing woman and now I lost her somehow.” I tug her ring out of my pocket and admire it in my palm. “Just like she lost this.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” Ryan cinches down the straps on his bag and double-checks to make sure they’re adjusted properly before he swings his leg over and settles in on the seat. “I don’t know what to tell ya. That’s strange,” he agrees.

“Don’t go yet,” Chloe yells frantically from the front step, waving a sheet of paper in her hand.

Mom walks down the steps with her and leads her over to where Ryan is all set to go on his bike in the driveway.

My daughter skips over to my side, flapping her sheet in her hand like a flag, then thrusts it out toward Ryan. “Take it,” she demands.

“What’s this?” He plucks the paper free from her grasp and smiles down at it. “Oh, you painted me a picture?”

“Uh-huh.” She beams proudly. “I painted it all by myself and even used my sparkly paint,” she announces. “What do you think it is?” She looks at him expectantly and his eyebrows shoot up comically as his lips twist to the side and he studies the black blobs with tiny streaks of orange on the tops.

“Ummm.” Ryan looks over at me for help, but I don’t have the first clue.

“It’s the blackbirds!” She jumps up and claps her hands together gleefully. “One named Peter and one named Paul,” she explains.

“Oh, of course they are. You did a great job painting them. Wow!” Ryan nods solemnly, looking over the crinkly page like he’s studying a fine art exhibit.

“I know.” Chloe randomly twirls in a circle and then stares straight at Ryan. “I got some paint on my hands, though.” She drops her voice, like she’s confiding a secret. “But that’s okay. Nana said artists get messy and I am an artist,” she proclaims proudly, puffing out her chest as her big blue eyes sparkle.

“Yes, you are,” Ryan agrees. “I’ll keep this with me right here.” He folds the sheet and places it inside his leather jacket. “Because it’s just so special, okay?”

“Uh, okay.” Chloe looks up at the sky, already much less interested in this conversation than she was a minute ago. Something else has already caught her attention.

“All right, I’m heading out. It was great meeting you, Marie.” Ryan smiles at my mother and she stands up a bit taller. Wait, is she wearing makeup? Mom never wears makeup.

“The pleasure was all mine.” She titters like some kind of shy school girl, not like my silver-haired mother. Red flushes her cheeks and I glare over at my friend with suspicion.

Ryan shrugs and revs up his motorcycle as I push ideas of my mother having some kind of inappropriate crush on my old SEAL buddy out of my mind. I won’t even let myself think of anything more inappropriate than that going on here. I’d have to bleach my brain.

Mom gives a little wave and then walks over to where Chloe has begun picking the last of the wildflowers and dandelions from the side of the driveway.

“I’m gonna pick you some flowers, Nana! Aren’t they soooo pretty?”

“They are,” Mom agrees, smiling at her with the pure joy that comes with being a grandparent.

“Hey, man, thanks for this. I had a great time,” Ryan talks loudly over the roar of his Harley engine. “About the girl, the only thing I can think of is that when you lose something, they always say to retrace your steps. Maybe she lives around the fairgrounds and she’ll be searching around there too? I dunno. It’s worth a shot maybe.” He shrugs and flips the visor on his helmet down before backing out of the driveway.

“Buh-bye!” Chloe yells and waves both of her hands wildly over her head, hopping around the front yard at the same time.

As I watch Ryan drive away his words echo in my mind. Retrace your steps. That is the advice they always give when you lose something. And... Ella lost her ring! I jam my hand into my pocket and pull out the band. I wonder if she’ll retrace her steps to try to find it. The idea floats up inside me like a red helium balloon into a sunny autumn sky. The sheer joy it brings me is enough to let me know what my plans are for tonight.

Retrace my steps. That’s exactly what I’ll do.

* * *

“Pfft, you’re joking, right?” The man with the ruddy complexion laughs from behind the Lost and Found counter. “Are you seriously telling me that you thought someone would find your diamond ring and turn it in?” His laughter turns into coughing and he doubles over, his large belly hanging as he has a hacking fit.

Tears blur my vision and my chin quivers. “Can you check? Please?” I beg him to at least look for me, since all he’s done is laugh at my request so far. “It was my mother’s ring and it’s really important to me.” My voice cracks and a fat tear slowly slides down over my cheek. I brusquely flick it away, but I know he already saw it.

Pity washes over his face as he sizes me up from head to toe. The man sighs, like what he’s about to do is going to be the biggest waste of time ever. “Wait here. I’ll take a look.” He clamps his jaw down, pronouncing his jowls even more.

“Thank you.” I nervously tug at the empty spot on my finger where my ring should be. After last night, I didn’t think I’d ever bother coming out in the evening again. The whole situation was just too close of a call. I found it hard to get my heart to stop racing enough that I could even get to sleep.

However, I woke up this morning with an exhilaration inside of me that I’ve never known. Like the happiness I’ve been reading about for years in my romance novels had suddenly been unlocked inside of me. My morning was full of dreamy smiles as I remembered the fun I had with Jackson last night. But that all came to a screeching halt when I realized my ring was missing.

I searched my room, tossing the few belongings I have, even recklessly pulling out the clothes I still hadn’t had a chance to put back in Sylvia’s closet. I shook them mercilessly, hoping the ring would drop out of them somehow.

It didn’t.

So, after I did the supper dishes, I approached Sylvia in complete desperation and asked her something I’ve never requested in the entire six years I’ve been living under her roof: if I could go out.

She tilted her head at me suspiciously. “Where are you trying to go?” Her eyes bored into me, trying to pry out my secrets, but I kept them under lock and key.

“I just wanted to go for a little walk,” I lied. “I’ve been finding myself getting a little sleepy in the day and heard that exercise can help with that.” I was lying through my teeth and hoping she couldn’t tell.

Sylvia squinted at me, finally answering, “Fine. I don’t mind if you go for a walk. But let me make it clear. If you’re not home by the time I lock the doors, you better find somewhere else to go because you won’t want to deal with me,” she threatened and I gulped hard.

“I understand.”

I walked out of the front door, feeling how a criminal must feel when they’re finally released after a life sentence.

The entire way here, I watched the ground like a hawk, hoping that somehow I could spot my ring along the way. Maybe it bounced out of my bag when I was running home last night? Maybe I dropped it somehow at the fair? I scoured the streets with no luck, making my way back along the path I had ran down in terror only last night.

“Naw, lady, there’s no rings at all back there. Especially not some fancy diamond ring. Like I told ya, the chance of someone turning that in is slim to none.” He saunters back over to the counter and holds out his hands like he’s trying to show me he doesn’t have it.

“Thank you for looking,” I sniff and turn away, quickly stepping out of the musty building and back out into the crisp air. I can’t give up this easy! I just need to think of where Jackson and I went last night and check to see if I dropped it somewhere. I try to think of the last place I remember it being on my finger. I scan the fairgrounds, my eyes sliding over all the bright lights, searching for something to jog my memory.

The Ferris wheel.

My eyes lock onto the ride that’s sitting in complete darkness and silence, still out of order. My heart pumps harder as I rush over to the barricade locked around the huge wheel. My head moves back and forth like when I get to the exciting part of a book and I can’t take in the words quick enough, searching for my lost jewelry.

Nothing. Well, not nothing. There is plenty of garbage, pieces of junk food and tiny stuffed toys like the one Jackson won for me yesterday strewn around. However, one thing is most definitely not there: my ring.

Defeated, I slink over to the empty park bench along the side of the ride and flop my head down into my hands. Tears splash against my palms as I sob. It’s like I lost her all over again, like the one part of my mother that kept her here on earth with me has been stolen. Just like the rest of my family, just like the rest of my life, has all been taken away. I can’t stop the sadness from spilling out. All these years it’s been building up inside and that ring was the only thing keeping it locked. Without that ring, I feel so lost. So naked. So vulnerable.

“Hey, don’t cry. Are you searching for this?” A familiar voice wraps around me like a warm hug.

I sit up, jerking my head from my hands, and stare through my tears, trying to blink them away and focus my eyes on the thing being held out in front of me.

It’s Jackson, and he’s holding my ring!

“Oh my God.” I leap from the bench and run into his arms. “How did you find it? You’re my hero,” I gush, clinging onto him tight.

“I told you I’d get you the best prize at the fair, didn’t I?” His gray eyes gleam as he wraps his arms around me. “I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I was a Navy SEAL,” he mocks himself and I laugh.

“How can I ever repay you? Name it.” I step back and hold out my hand as Jackson drops the ring in my palm. I don’t even think about my words as I slide it down over my finger and admire the way the colored lights shimmer off the edges.

“Repay me, huh?” He tilts his head and runs his hand over his beard. “Anything I want?”

I know he’s teasing me, but I can’t stop the fiery heat billowing out over my cheeks.

“I, um, I didn’t mean it like that,” I begin to explain.

Jackson laughs. “Hey, I don’t know what dirty things you were thinking, but I was going to suggest you let me take you out for a coffee.” He tilts my chin up until my eyes lock onto his. “I know the perfect place and it’s not far from here. What do you say?”

My heart is thudding fast against my ribcage. The last twenty-four hours have been an absolute whirlwind of emotions. I don’t know if I can take much more. But this is living, isn’t it? This is what life is supposed to be like.

Not just an endless list of menial chores and solitude, but this rush of happiness. This buzzing sensation that overtakes me when I look into his eyes. The heat that rushes down my body and pools in my belly. This is what life is all about.

I bite my lip, knowing I might be opening Pandora’s Box, but right now I just don’t care. I still have hours until Sylvia is going to lock the house up.

“Yes,” I answer simply. “I’ll go out for a coffee with you.”

* * *

Jackson and I walk arm in arm down the quiet street. I love looking into all the restaurants and shops at night. Seeing tiny slices of the lives the people inside are leading as the light illuminates them like actors on a stage. It’s almost like watching fragments of movies as we walk by outside in the dark, cool night. This one is about a couple meeting in a bookstore. That one is about the cracks in a tense marriage showing over dinner. Over there is a show about an elderly couple out on a hot date at a pub. I make up the little stories in my head, smiling as I walk beside Jackson on the sidewalk, eager to see where this story goes.

“I’m so glad I found you. I couldn’t get a hold of you on Tinder and I couldn’t find you on Facebook. If you weren’t at the fair tonight, I had no idea how to get that ring back to you.” Jackson looks over at me. “Did you, um, delete your profile?” He watches my face as I think of a way to avoid the pointed question.

“Yes,” I answer simply, “it’s complicated.” I sigh.

For a few steps he says nothing. I can almost hear his thoughts churning in his mind. He probably thinks I’m weird or hiding something. I am hiding something.

“You’re not… are you married?” He seems to almost choke on the words.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” I’d laugh if I didn’t find the question so insulting. I know I don’t have a real history with love or dating, but if I did ever find the one, if I ever did commit to a man and promise to spend the rest of my life with him, there’s no way I would ever consider sneaking around on him.

“Well, it’s just that the ring looks like a wedding band”—he nods at my hand—“and you deleted your profile right after our date. I mean, it just made me think you might be… never mind.” He sounds exasperated.

I can’t blame him. He knows something is going on and I’m not exactly going out of my way to clear up the details for him.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I reassure him. “It’s just that my employer doesn’t approve of the whole Facebook thing, so I deactivated it. That’s all.” I shrug and hope my vague answer is enough for him. I’d hate to ruin this short time I have with him. I’d hate to have tonight end on another bad note. I’m not really lying to him, but it’s not like I can just come out and confess my illegal status. That would be foolish and dangerous.

Jackson mulls over my words and then stops to a complete standstill. Oh no, he’s not happy with my lame excuse. I guess this is the end of the night after all.

“What’s wrong?” My voice squeaks as I wait for him to accuse me of lying, or even worse, being some kind of cheating wife.

“Wrong? Nothing, this is the coffee shop.” He jerks his thumb at the door of Julianna’s place. I was so lost in my worries I didn’t even notice.

“Oh, I come here all the time.” I light up and swing the door open, practically dancing inside. Behind the counter, wiping off the machinery, is Julianna. Her eyes grow wide when she sees me and she does a double take before checking the clock on the wall. She’s never seen me in here at night before. She’s never seen me in here at any other time than when I go for Sylvia’s daily ‘bitch special.’

“Ella! You’re out late.” She flips the cloth up over her shoulder and looks over at Jackson. “Oh, are you on a date?” Her eyes twinkle and my cheeks flush.

I flick my gaze at Jackson, not really sure what to call this. “Um, yeah, I think so,” I answer shyly.

She laughs and shakes her head. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m shutting down for the night. We close early on Sunday,” she explains. “But if you want, I can turn the espresso machine back on and make you guys a couple of drinks for the road.”

“No, that’s all right.” Jackson holds up his hand. Turning on his heel, he looks down at me. “I should probably get going soon anyway. My mom is babysitting Chloe and I don’t want to stay out too late.”

“Oh, of course.” I try to hide my disappointment, but I’m doing a terrible job. “I understand.”

“Why don’t you come to my place for a coffee? I’ve got everything there that these guys have. Tea, coffee, great conversation, a sexy ex-SEAL.” His eyes sparkle as he teases me.

“I don’t know.” I look over at Julianna, but she’s waving her hands frantically, mouthing the word “Go” over and over.

“Sounds like a magical night to me,” she helpfully interrupts and I shoot her a look.

“I mean, it is still early.” I play with my ring as I weigh out my options.

“It is,” Jackson agrees. “And there’s the conversation with the sexy ex-SEAL. Did I mention that?” He grins and I can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, I’d love to,” I agree, throwing caution to the wind for once. I still have four hours before I need to be back to the house, so why not?

* * *

I pull up at my place and lead Ella to my door. She seems a little timid about coming inside. I wonder if this is all too much to ask of a lady I just met. I mean, she’s about to meet my mother. She’s at my house. Maybe I didn’t really think this all through very well. The idea wasn’t to overwhelm her, just to give us a cozy place to get to know each other that wouldn’t be shutting down early tonight.

I don’t have much time to worry about it because as soon as I open the door I’m met by my mother’s voice calling out to me.

“Jackson? Oh, thank God you’re home. I’ve had the worst time trying to get Chloe to sleep tonight. I’m just not sure what’s going on with her.” I can hear Mom making her way out from the living room and down the hall. “She woke up in absolute terror. Let me tell you, it would break your heart, and she told me she had a dream about a spider named—oh my goodness! I didn’t realize you were bringing home company. I’m sorry.”

Mom comes to a dead halt and closely examines Ella. The worry that was just tattooed across her face disappears and a knowing smile replaces it.

“Yeah, we’ve dealt with the spider dream before,” I admit. “I think its name is Hampy or something. Mom, this is Ella.” I hold out my palm toward her like I’m offering up a fine bottle of wine. “Ella”—I look down into her huge doe eyes and give her hand a squeeze, hoping she’ll relax—“this is my mother.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you.” Ella nods her head and Mom smiles up at me like the Cheshire cat.

“Oh no, dear, I’m just so happy to see Jackson out on a date. My word, how long has it been now? Well, at least a couple years, right?”

“Mom.” I grind my teeth together and give her a look that’s begging her to stop.

“Oh, right, okay. I trust you understand how to deal with this whole Hampy thing better than I do if she wakes up again. I’ll, um, yep, I’ll just be on my way and get out of your hair. I don’t want to interrupt your night any more than I have. Just pretend I wasn’t even here!” Mom rambles as she struggles to stuff her feet into her shoes.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I encourage her to make this short and sweet.

“It was nice to meet you, Ella. You’re such a sweet thing, isn’t she, Jackson? So pretty.”

“Mom!” I cut her off gruffly and she clamps her jaw shut.

“Thank you,” Ella answers graciously, watching my mother with amusement.

“Good night, Jackson. Good night, Ella.” Mom finally gets her wits about her and picks up her purse, tucking it high into her armpit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives me a quick squeeze. “Oh, I’ll give you one too.” She grabs Ella before she has a chance to react and gives her a hug.

At this point, I don’t even know what to say. I just wait for my mother to head out the door, watching to make sure she gets into her car safe before shutting the door and shaking my head. “Sorry about that.” I cast a sheepish glance at Ella.

“Don’t be”—she waves it off—“your mother is adorable.”

“That’s one word for it.” I smirk.

“Daddy?” Chloe’s wavery voice cuts into our conversation.

I kick off my shoes and quickly head up the stairs.

“Coming, honey.” I make my way to her room and realize that Ella is right behind me. I reach Chloe’s door and she’s sitting up straight in bed, completely frazzled. “Hey, what are you doing up so late?” I ask gently as I walk into her room.

“I had a bad dream about Hampy again.” She rubs her eyes and blinks toward the door. “Who’s that?” She points at Ella.

“That’s a friend of mine,” I answer.

“Hi.” Chloe waves. “I’m Chloe. What’s your name?” she repeats the introduction I’ve taught her for when she meets new people.

“Hi, Chloe, I’m Ella.”

“Hey, remember I told you Hampy isn’t real, right? You don’t have to worry about him. It’s not a real spider, it’s just a bad dream.” I try to reason with her, but a four-year-old isn’t always the most reasonable creature.

“No, it is real,” she insists. “I saw him. He was over on my window and he smiled at me, but it was like a creepo smile, like this.” She gives me a sinister look that makes it all too clear why they always use little kids in horror movies.

“Whoa! That is a creepy smile.” I pretend to jump back and Chloe giggles. “I’ll tell you what. Would you like a glass of water? That might make you feel better.”

“No, I’m not thirsty, Daddy,” she explains like I’m the child. “I’m scared.”

“You know, where I grew up there were loads of spiders,” Ella speaks from the door.

I almost forgot she was even standing there.

“Really?” Chloe’s eyes lock onto her, sizing her up.

“Yup, it’s true. And I was really scared of them too.” Ella walks into the room and kneels down at the side of Chloe’s bed so they’re at eye level when she talks to her.

“So, what did you do?” If Chloe is freaked out by me having an unfamiliar woman in the house, she isn’t showing it. She’s almost acting like she’s totally forgotten about me, focusing solely on Ella.

“I didn’t know what to do, but my mom did. She used to sing a special song that made all the spiders go away. Not many people know it, but I do. Would you like me to sing it for you?”

“Yes!” Chloe flops back in her bed, her head crashing into her pillow, as she smiles. “Can you sing it now, Ella?”

“I’d love to, but just know once I sing this song all the spiders are going to be scared away. So Hampy won’t be back tonight. Did you want to say goodbye to him first?” She smiles down at my daughter and I can’t help the warmth that wraps around my heart.

“No way! See ya later, stink spider!” Chloe giggles and then goes back to being serious, waiting for her song.

For a moment, the room is silent as Ella seems to try to recall the words. Just when I think maybe there isn’t a real song to be sung, she opens her mouth and in a beautiful voice she begins to sing in Spanish:

“Arrorró mi niño,

arrorró mi sol,

arrorró pedazo,

de mi corazón.

Este niño lindo

ya quiere dormir;

háganle la cuna

de rosa y jazmín.”

Chloe yawns wide and settles into her pillow, her eyelids fluttering closed like Ella just cast some kind of magic spell on her. I’ve never seen her fall asleep so peacefully after having one of her spider dreams.

“Sweet dreams, child,” Ella whispers and stands back up, softly padding her feet across the floor over to me.

“That was incredible.” I pull her into me and run my hand through her long, flowing hair. “You’re going to have to teach me that witchcraft,” I tease her.

“It’s just a Colombian lullaby.” She smiles up at me, her face so beautiful, her spirit so amazing, her body so perfect, I just can’t resist the temptation anymore.

“Well, you can sing me to sleep anytime.” I grab her hands and walk backward as I lead her down the hall to my room.

Ella looks uncertain, but she follows me as I open my bedroom door and flick on the light. “Why would I sing you to sleep?” She giggles and I shut the door behind us.

“You’re right.” I smirk. “Why sing me to sleep? I can think of much more fun ways to tire each other out.”

* * *

My feet are floating above the floor, letting Jackson guide me into his room. My mind is firing off with a million thoughts per second.

Am I ready for this? What time is it? Do I have to head back soon? Should I tell him I’m a virgin? Am I going to be terrible at this? Should I check my phone and see if Sylvia has been trying to get a hold of me? Are my fingers shaking? How do I stop them from doing that? Why is my mouth so dry?

“Are you all right?” Jackson’s eyes travel over my face and his fingertips brush the fallen strands of hair from my forehead. “You look a little tense.” He softly drags the pads of his fingers down the edge of my jaw and tilts up my chin until I’m facing him. He won’t let me hide behind my curtain of hair. It’s touching to see that he’s so concerned about me. It’s clear to see that from the flat line of his lips and the slight lines across his forehead.

“I’m just a little worried about the time, that’s all.” I can’t face the intensity of his eyes. I don’t know how to tell him that part of me is nervous about the hours getting away from me. However, the bigger part, the part that’s fighting the slight tremor in my limbs, is nervous about the fact that I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even been in a man’s room before.

“The time?” The tension eases from his face and he nods over to the alarm clock next to his bed. “It’s not that late. Eight-fifty-three,” he reads out the red numbers to me. “What are you so worried about? Are you going to turn into a pumpkin if you stay out too late?” He chuckles and threads his fingers through my hair, pulling me into him tight with his other arm.

I breathe him in, my body reacting instinctively as my nipples grow taut and heat kisses my skin. I might not know what I’m doing, but I definitely know what feels right. This. Being next to him. In his arms. Under his control. This is more right than anything I’ve ever known. Jackson leans into me, hovering his lips just over mine until there’s a tingle between us without even touching. I ache for his kiss. My eyelids flutter closed and a soft moan escapes my lips as he finally blankets my mouth with his.

His kiss is tender and sweet, like the fresh honey I used to buy at the market in Colombia. But, as he pulls me in closer, our lips part and his tongue finds mine. His hips grind forward and his rigid, thick erection presses into me. The kiss goes from sweet honey to the smoky, deep heat of Aji Picante.

Jackson walks me backward toward the bed and the mattress hits me unexpectedly behind the knees, making me plop down. I look up at him, breathing in rapid, shallow breaths. My eyes grow wide as I glance down at the shameless bulge in his pants. I want to run my hand over it. I want to open his jeans and rub my palm against his shaft as I wrap my fingers around it. I want to know the power women can experience, the pleasure I can give him, with only my hand. Or my mouth. Or my body.

“Ella, you’re so fucking sexy. I need you.” Jackson’s voice is raspy as he leans over me, placing an arm on either side of me.

I fall back onto the bed as he pins me beneath him. I shimmy back, moving up the mattress as my thoughts fight with my longing in a blurry haze. Jackson crawls up from the bottom of the bed, slowly, like a tiger stalking its prey. His thick, ropy muscles flex in his arms as he firmly places one on each side of me and presses himself between my legs.

A long, involuntary shudder travels through me. Tiny, tantalizing shivers splinter off inside me, traveling out from my spine and through my limbs. A small current of pleasure reaches the tender, swollen spot between my legs and I grind up against Jackson, inviting him to touch me there.

Jackson kisses a trail down my neck and I push my hands up under the back of his shirt, clinging onto his shoulders as his lips carry on down to my collarbone. His fingers slip up under my sweater, tugging it up until my pink bra is revealed. My breasts are almost spilling out of the lacey cups and he runs his thumb over the edge before kissing a line over the full flesh. His hands push under my back and find the clasp of my bra. He easily undoes the little clips and tugs my sweater up over my head as I raise my arms up for him. My bra slides down my shoulders and Jackson tosses it down over the edge of the bed.

Before I have a chance to say a word, his warm lips are surrounding the untouched tip of my nipple. “Ohhh.” The word comes out like a song as I arch my back and enjoy the shivers of bliss each lap of my nipple sends shuddering through me. Jackson cups my heavy breast in his hand and thrashes his tongue around each nipple like he’s marking me as his.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers before tugging slightly on my pebbled peak. Any shyness I felt evaporates as the pleasure shoots out through my body, making me feel beautifully raw. Like every cell inside me has been stirred alive.

His hand slides down my ribs and into the hollow of my waist before flaring back out over the curve of my hip. Jackson’s fingers ease under the edge of my pants, then my panties until the heat of his hand is directly on my pussy. I gasp, realizing this is really happening, and all the nerves that had momentarily floated away come crashing back as I grab his hand and my eyes spring open wide.

“What’s going on?” His brows are drawn in confusion and he pulls his hand back.

“I, well, I don’t know how to say this,” I stumble on my words, wishing there was a less embarrassing way to make this confession. It’s not that I want to ruin this moment or stop, but he has a right to know the reason I’m a trembling ball of nerves.

“Hey, you can tell me anything.” Jackson runs the backs of his fingers over my cheek and I look into his gray eyes, wishing he could just know what I’m trying to say without speaking a word.

“I’ve never done this before,” I finally manage to make my tongue confess.

“You’ve never…” Jackson seems to think about what I’m saying, like he’s not sure he can understand it. “Are you saying you’re a virgin?”

I nod as intense heat rushes over my cheeks and I avert my gaze.

“Ella, don’t be embarrassed.” He soothes me, leaning back up on his arms so there is a little distance between us. He looks down on me tenderly. “Do you want to stop?” He searches my face intently.

I bite my lip, already craving the heat that’s missing between us now that he’s pulled back from me. “No, not at all,” I admit. “I just wanted you to know. I’m not really sure what I’m doing.” My words are barely a whisper.

“Don’t worry about that. I know what I’m doing.” He smirks and I pull him back down to me. “I’ll make sure I go slow, okay?”

I nod, and Jackson quickly kisses my nipples again before dragging his tongue down over my belly. He flicks my belly button, making me squirm for a second, and then keeps going. His fingers quickly undo my jeans and I lift my hips, breathing in sharply with anticipation as he tugs them and my panties down, exposing my pussy. I kick off my pants and Jackson runs his thumb over my lips. My juices coat his flesh and he sucks it off.

“Mmmm, you taste amazing, Ella. I can’t wait to lick your sweet peach.” His voice is thick with desire.

Uneasiness washes over me as I worry about him kissing me down there. Will it feel good? Do I really taste good? I don’t have time to overthink it, though, because Jackson spreads my thighs wide and dives his tongue into my pussy, giving me a long, sensual lick. I wiggle, my belly full over nerves and anticipation.

“Relax. I’ll make sure you feel good.” He smiles up my body and I lie back. His fingers pinch into the meat of my legs and he buries his face down below. I suck the air in through my teeth as his tongue meets my clit, twirling over it gently at first and then flickering against it passionately. I grab the blanket in both of my hands and twist it up in my fingers as the sensation overwhelms me. It’s so intense. So intimate. I’ve never experienced anything like it. To have his mouth down there, his tongue thrashing against a part of me I’ve never let anyone else touch, it’s exhilarating.

Jackson moans and his mouth vibrates around my clit as he tugs it into his mouth slightly. His tongue laps and licks over my sensitive nub as the feeling inside me builds up like the first rumblings of a volcano warning the villagers of what’s to come. His fingers circle up around my hips, holding me tight in his grasp, and his lips vibrate against me as his tongue relentlessly flutters. Suddenly, my muscles tighten. My fingers twist into the fabric of his blanket and I throw my head back as the volcano explodes inside me, sending pure ecstasy through my entire body and my suppressed moans to escape my lips.

My hips shudder against him as he gives my pussy a quick kiss and pulls back. I’m sprawled out on his bed, with Jackson still fully clothed, under the bright light, and I couldn’t care less. All my inhibitions have been freed from my body, chased away by the powerful orgasm he just gave me.

Jackson gives my hip a little nibble, sending a tingling shock through me before joining me on his pillow. “How was that?” His mouth is quirked into a smug grin, like he knows exactly what he’s reduced me to. My throat is dry as I search for the words I don’t have to describe that feeling.

“Amazing,” I finally answer.

“Do you have any second thoughts?” His broad palm travels over me like an artist painting on a canvas. “Are you sure you want to keep going?”

My eyebrows pinch together as I consider his words. I do want this. More than anything, I want him inside me. I want our bodies to be as close as two people can possibly be. Somehow, I want them to be even closer.

“Yes,” I answer firmly. “Please, Jackson, keep going,” I plead, hoping he hasn’t decided that taking my virginity isn’t something he wants to take on.

He kneels on the bed, peeling his shirt up over his head, and exposes his tight, chiseled abs to me as his muscles flex with his movements. If he ever had a moment of hesitation, I’d never know from how quickly he removes his pants and underwear, stripping down completely and shamelessly naked. Not that it’s hard to see why he has no shame. With every inch of his body tight and rippling with strength. With each and every inch of his thick cock pulsing with need. My mouth drops open as I try to imagine how on earth I’ll be able to take that inside of me. It looks like more than any woman’s body can handle, let alone a virgin.

“Oh my God,” I breathe out, and my hand hovers over his shaft in disbelief.

“Here.” He cups his hand over mine, pushing my palm down over his thick member. “You don’t have to be nervous. You won’t hurt me.”

I try to circle my fingers around him, but I can’t touch my thumb on the other side. Eyes wide, I look at him curiously. “Can I… is it okay if I put it in my mouth?” I wait for his approval.

“You definitely don’t need to ask.” He leans back and I maneuver so my head is over his lap. I study the rigid lines and veins traveling down the length of his shaft, running my hand over it like he’s made of glass before opening my mouth wide and sinking him inside. My jaw is open as far as it can go and it still feels like I’m stretching to fit him in. I push my head down, sliding him in farther, and wrap both of my hands around the lower part of his cock. Bobbing my head, I shield my lips from his skin as I inch him in.

I pop my lips back off, a little disappointed with how little of him I was able to take. If Jackson minds, he doesn’t show it.

“Lie down.” He kisses me urgently.

I do as he says and he slips out of the bed, opening the drawer in his nightstand and picking up a foil packet inside. He takes a second to adjust the condom down over his cock, and then his weight sinks the mattress around me as he joins me back on the bed. He kneels between my legs, rubbing my pussy with his thumb and looking down at me like I’m the most stunning woman he’s ever seen.

“Are you ready?” He holds the base of his cock with his fist and lines it up at my entrance, waiting for me to answer.

“Yes.” I swallow hard, not sure if I really am or not.

“It’s going to hurt a bit, okay? But I’ll try to be gentle with you.” He eases the tip of his cock inside and even though he’s barely in, my walls stretch to make room for him. Jackson grunts, “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moves forward, leaning on one hand by my side as he guides his shaft inside my virgin pussy.

“Oh.” I breathe in sharply, twisting my head to the side so he won’t see the grimace crossing my face as he sinks farther down. The burning sensation is unpleasant, but the way my body fits around him, like I was designed for his cock, is pretty amazing.

“Shhh, the hard part is almost over.” He kisses me.

I grab onto his shoulders and lift my head so I’m tucked into him tight. I’m less shaky when I hold on to him like this. Jackson grabs the headboard and thrusts into me slowly but steadily as my body painfully stretches to make room for him. There’s an intense pinch inside followed by a stinging sensation, but the worst part is over as he sinks into my pussy, burying himself the entire way.

“Oh, that feels, ahhh.” My pained cries turn to ones of pleasure as Jackson eases back and thrusts into me deep again, and again, and again. Each time he does, it goes easier. Until there is no sting at all anymore, just that incredible building pleasure.

“Ella, you’re perfect, you know that?” Jackson grabs my hands and thrusts them over my head, pinning me to the bed, making me his as he fucks me harder, less concerned with being gentle now. “You’re perfectly naughty and perfectly sweet,” he murmurs, “and perfectly mine.” He sinks his cock all the way into me, making me cry out his name to the ceiling as he holds me tight in his grip. His balls slap up against me as he’s buried to the hilt, still stretching me out. Claiming me.

“Harder,” I whisper in his ear and his grip on my wrists tightens. He stops taking his time with me, toying with me, and fucks me fast. His hips beat against my thighs as I lock my legs behind his back. He leans over me, roughly taking a nipple into his mouth. He thrusts into me relentlessly. The sensation of being held down, of his cock stretching me to my limit, of my nipple being sucked and nibbled on, it’s all too much. I twist and squirm under him as another orgasm shreds through me.

Jackson’s body tightens and he sinks inside me fully, shuddering slightly as his cock twitches his seed into the condom between us. Both of us lie still, speaking only in racing heartbeats and panting gasps. He rolls off of me and I’m immediately cold and alone, wishing I could have his heat, his weight, his cock, forever.

He gets rid of the condom and smiles over at me tenderly. “Can I get you anything?”