The key stuck in the lock to Jeanine’s third-story, walk-up apartment, as it did every day. The peeling paint on the door was probably white at one point, but now it was a special shade of off-white that only came with decades of cigarette smoke and other colorful vapors seeping into every nook and cranny. I couldn’t really complain since it wasn’t even technically my place. I had to ram my shoulder into the door before it finally popped free and I burst into the living room. I guess you could call it a living room, it was more like a closet.

There was a mishmash of furniture from off the street, online sales and scrounged up from anyplace else that meant free or damn near close. The window looked out onto a weathered brick wall, leaving the apartment dark at any hour of the day. But again, I was just happy for a roof over my head. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

Jeanine came out of the bathroom, rubbing her hair with a towel.

"Heard there was some excitement after I left for the day?"

"The little girl I brought in? Let me tell you," I threw my bag on the counter.

"You mean the stray?" she asked, in that snotty voice of hers that made me want to smack her. I glared at her and she shrank back.

"What?" she said, holding up her hands. If I hadn't known she was harmless and that she had made sure Esme's mug was always filled to the brim with hot chocolate, I'd have punched her. She was my best friend in the city, pretty much my only friend in the city. Which was pretty sad because I don’t think she thought of me as more than her own version of a stray. Once I started working at the diner, she gave me a place to crash.

The bathroom door opened again and Roy, her waste of a boyfriend, strolled out, his towel wrapped around his waist. His mere presence made my skin crawl.

“Hey, Mel, how you doing?” he said, looking me up and down like he always did. While Jeanine's minuscule living room was fine when it was just the two of us, whenever Roy was here it felt like the walls were closing in. And every time Roy looked at me it turned my stomach. I didn't want to say anything to Jeanine. She was head over heels for Roy, but he gave me the creeps. There was more than one occasion when I woke up on the couch to catch him staring at me, pretending he was just on his way to the bathroom. It's not like I could ask her not to invite him over. It was her place, not mine. I was the interloper here. Always the person on the outside, just trying to fit in or make myself as invisible as possible.

"Fine, Roy," I said through gritted teeth, trying to sound pleasant. "The little girl was Rhys Thayer's daughter. He came in a while after you left,” I said to Jeanine, trying my best to ignore her gag-reflex-inducing boyfriend.

"Shut up," she screeched, throwing her towel at me. I had to laugh. Jeanine certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Hence her weekly auditions for Broadway shows and musicals. It hadn't worked out so far, but I hoped someday she'd get her break. "What was he like?" she asked, pulling me down onto the couch. How to describe him? His deep chestnut eyes, light brown hair, and voice that sent shivers down my spine, even now, were hard to put into words that didn’t make me sound like a fangirl. The way he looked at me, it made me twist and squirm in my seat.

"He was nice. Relieved to have found his daughter. He said his people would be in touch with me about some papers or something they need me to sign."

"Maybe he's giving you a reward," Roy said, intruding as ever, chugging my orange juice, the one with my name written on it, directly out of the carton before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I bit my tongue.

"I'm sure he's not. I didn't do anything. She found me," I said, turning back to Jeanine.

"I've seen him on the cover of a bunch of magazines and that big campaign he did last month to raise money for wells in Africa. He seems so nice," she said, bouncing. He did seem nice in all those interviews and articles I'd seen over the years. But our interaction hadn't been like that. It was different. Made me feel different. It hadn't made me feel like I was in the presence of one of the world’s youngest billionaires, most generous benefactors and eligible bachelors.

My stomach had knotted like I'd been called into the principal's office for doing nothing wrong. He’d sized me up, scrutinizing me, trying to figure me out. And I didn't know if I wanted him to. As screwed up as my life was, he'd probably press charges against me for trying to steal his kid.