I’d always been good at pretending. Maybe I could have been an actress if I’d lived another life. Not a better life, since Mikala wouldn't have been part of it, but a different one. I wouldn’t give up my daughter for the world, and it didn’t matter to me that the price for getting her had been Elroy. She was my reason to keep going. My little girl needed me to be strong...or at least be able to fake it.

I was doing my best to pretend that I didn't miss Dorian, that his words hadn't cut me like shards of glass. But I'd inevitably dream about him, or something in my day would remind me of him. Once, I thought I saw him in the casino and ran after him only to discover it was just a guy with a similar haircut. After a week, I knew he wasn't coming back. I knew that things were completely over between us, and my belief that he'd never had feelings for me just solidified even further.

But it still sucked.

The one saving grace I did have was that I had a new job to keep me occupied. Isa had thrown me into the deep end from moment one, which was a good thing, all things considered. I needed the immersion.

But when the day was over, I'd have the whole drive home to think about things and would fill with regret until I'd see another human soul. Thank god for Tiffany and my daughter. They were my salvation.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Mikala ran to me the same as she had every other day this week, and just like every other time, I felt the first genuine smile I'd managed all day curve my lips.

“Guess what Tiffany and I did today!”

I leaned down and ruffled Mikala's silky hair, tapping the door closed behind me with my foot. “What did you do?”

Tiffany entered the hallway a second later, looking tired. A wave of guilt washed over me. She must have caught it in my expression because she was quick to make an excuse.

“I woke up a little under the weather this morning,” she said. “Had a bit of a reverse breakfast, if you will. I think I must've caught Mikala's bug.”

I winced and looked down at my beaming little girl. It was only a few days ago that she'd been ashen and sulky. I'd barely managed to get her to keep down enough juice to keep her from needing to go to the hospital for an IV. I'd been expecting myself to start puking any second now, since I'd also been feeling a little under the weather the past few days. I was sure the stress wasn't helping anything either.

Stress had always made things worse. Back when I finally got the courage to leave Elroy, I'd been sick for nearly a week.

I still remembered the fight that had delivered the final blow to our relationship. In my heart, we’d been over for a long time. But it wasn’t until he nearly hit Mikala one night that I had the courage to leave him. And I couldn’t have survived the rollercoaster of emotion that had followed if it hadn't been for Tiffany’s support.

“Sorry that you're not feeling well, Tiff,” I said. “Let me make you some soup or something. We could all use some TLC.”

“Mommy, I still haven't told you what we did!”

Tiffany waved away my concerns. “It's fine. Her's passed quickly, and I'm sure mine will too.”

“I insist.”

We walked into the kitchen together, Mikala practically hanging off me as she told me all about the exciting day she'd had with Auntie Tiffany. They'd done some finger painting, and she was ecstatic as she showed me the turkey she'd painted that Tiffany had stuck up on the fridge for me.

“How's the job going?” Tiffany asked as I poured her a cup of orange juice from the fridge.

“As well as can be expected.” I poured a little cup for Mikala too and handed it to her. “Why don't you go watch TV for a bit while Tiffany and I talk. Okay, honey?”

Mikala raced off without another word, satisfied with her recitation of the day's events.

Tiffany swallowed some of the juice with a grimace. “I'm wondering whether adding some booze to this would make me more or less likely to throw up on one of the gropey losers at the club tonight.”

I snorted. “Probably more. Why don't you take tonight off?”

She nodded and wiped a hand over her forehead. “I don’t have a fever yet, so I'll try to work and see how it goes. My stomach just will not settle. How are you doing?”

“I'm not feeling so hot either, but I think it's just stress. I've caught myself nearly puking a couple of times. Yesterday, we had a Saudi prince come stay at the casino, and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom for ten whole minutes before I could show him to the penthouse. Isa wasn't happy with me.”

“Yikes.” Tiffany raised her brows and took another drink of the juice. “Maybe you should be the one taking a day or two off. Sounds like you need it.”

The thought had crossed my mind too, but it simply wasn't possible. “Can't. Earl would crucify me if I took time off during my training. Apparently, he stuck his neck out to give me this position, though I'm not sure how much I believe that. Besides, with Sinclair not paying my rent anymore, it's more important than ever for me to be on top of my game.” I sighed. “But damn if it wouldn't be nice to take a twenty-four-hour long bubble bath.”

“Is it still...” she hesitated for a moment. “Him?”

I laughed bitterly. “You'd have to specify which him. Though I suppose it's both.”

“I want to kill him. Both of the hims.” She glowered into the bottom of her glass as she drained it. “You're better than that. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

She looked over at the clock on the oven and made a sour face. “Looks like it's time to play upchuck roulette. But call me if you need me, okay?”

I nodded and patted Tiffany on the back as she staggered down to her room. Things would get better.

And if I told myself that enough times, I'd eventually believe it.