20. Sunday

TWENTY

"Icannot believe it," I whisper in shock while staring at the ultrasound picture. Janie, Stevie, and Indy are shoving at each other to crowd around me as we continue to gawk and coo over the grainy black-and-white photo. I look up at the glowing Ren. Though she may be glowing from all the vomiting that just happened five minutes ago.

"Yeah, ten weeks today," Ren breathes out. "I wanted to wait until twelve to tell everyone, but the fact that Atlas has kept his mouth shut these last two weeks is nothing short of a fucking miracle, and he already told me he wouldn't make it through the whole convention without letting it slip to the guys."

Janie snorts. "At least he's honest. I'm so excited! We're going to be aunties! How's Atlas taking it?"

Ren smiles warmly. "Like I've given him the greatest thing ever. He's so excited. I found out, and I was so scared. I started making a pros and cons list and when he got home, he was like, ‘What's all this?' and when I told him." Her voice cracks, and her eyes go glassy. "He said, ‘I'm going to be a daddy?' and he fell to his knees and kissed my stomach. Like, zero hesitation."

"Ughhhh…" Stevie sighs before taking a sip of her coffee. "Can we clone him? Like seriously, I need a man like him in my life–OW!"

Stevie glares up at her grandmother, Nika, who whacked her with a rolled-up magazine. "Ne Stefa! Nema mu?karaca Stefa."

Stevie rolls her eyes. "Da, Baka." She ushers her tiny grandmother away and shakes her head. We all stare at the turquoise-haired girl as she shakes her head. "She's just telling me no men. She's adamant that I never try dating again after Louisiana." None of us know much of what happened in Louisiana, only that Stevie had been in a relationship with her boss, who was also the owner of a piercing shop she worked at and her mentor. From what we've gathered, Stevie had been treated poorly during the relationship. She doesn't talk about it, and we refuse to push her on the subject.

"So." Indy clears her throat and glances at me from across the table. I feel my heart rate increase, knowing exactly what she's about to ask. It's the same question she's asked me every time we've run into each other for the last couple of weeks. "Have you talked to my brother?"

I feel everyone's gaze drift back to me, and I sigh before shaking my head. "No," I say, a little defeated. "Ash and I still aren't talking." Which has made thingsveryawkward because not only has Indy become a permanent part of our group, but Ash has taken to helping Wade with his art skills by holding a teaching session with him at night once a week, as well as a weekly video game night. And god forbid these nights land on the same night.

It's been two weeks since the wedding. The wedding day went off perfectly despite my massive hangover from the night before. Ash was the perfect son, and I played my part as the loving girlfriend until we got into the car to drive back home. The moment I sat in the seat, my headphones went on, and I listened to one of the audiobooks Ren had performed during the entire ride home.

There wasn't much else to say on the matter. Ash doesn't want anything long-term, and I don't have time to tie my feelings up in a fling. And then there was Wade. My son's too close to Ash now. If we had a fling and Ash left, it would destroy Wade. I can't risk that; part of me feels like Ash might think the same. He knows he's not built for my life but doesn't want to hurt Wade.

"You still thinking about moving to Alabama?" Indy asks, and I shake my head.

"No," I breathe out. "Wade doesn't seem set on the idea of us leaving. I mean, it would be so much cheaper down there, but it's not worth my boy losing his stability. So, I'll probably stay around here. I'm either going to have to start stripping again or find a cheaper place, though; that apartment is bleeding my savings."

"Have you considered keeping your studio and opening it up to add ballet?" Ren asks while trying to sip her water. The poor thing looks nauseous again, and I feel for her.

"Nah." My laugh is self-deprecating. "Nobody's gonna bring their daughters to the stripper studio to learn ballet."

"Hey!" Janie scolds and whacks my arm. "Don't say shit like that."

"Owww…" I whine, "It's true! I'm a redneck ex-stripper with a tween and no education. My years in ballet were too long ago, and I didn't exactly make it far because of my epilepsy. No parent would let their kid be taught by me."

"I will," Ren states proudly.

"And I would, too!" Janie nods. "If Fox would get me pregnant," she mutters. "Also, don't talk about my best friend that way! It's fucking rude. You're an amazing human and a great mother. Plus, we've seen you dance aside from the pole."

Ren nods her head enthusiastically. "Yeah, I've watched you in the studio. You're way better than the ballet instructor my mother sent me to."

I raise a brow. "Your mother got you private lessons with a Russian Prima Ballerina. There is no one higher or better than that to teach ballet to children."

Ren shrugs her shoulders. "All I'm saying is, I don't remember shit that woman screamed at me, but I remember every move you taught me."

I let out a long breath before looking at my expecting friends.

"Okay, I'll thinkabout it," I relent.

"Good girl," Ren states, and our entire table falls silent for a moment before we break out in a fit of laughter. "Sorry!" Ren snickers. "I've been narrating a smut series; my brain is in pervert mode."

Janie shrugs, "I live there. So, do the smutty books get you all excited to climb Atlas?" she purrs and does a little shimmy.

Ren lets out a dry ‘ha.' "He wishes. If anything, narrating sex all day makes me not want it."

"I get that." Stevie stretches her hands over her head. "It's like with piercings, you've seen one set of nipples, you've seen a thousand. They aren't any different from nostrils to me."

I shake my head and look at my phone. "Alright, my loves, my ride"s here. I have to get to the studio before class." I give them all quick hugs before walking outside to the dark blue Maserati and waving.

"Boy, these super-luxury rideshares are top-notch." I grin as Luca rolls down the passenger window and rolls his dark eyes.

"Baby, you couldn't afford my prices. Now come on, I have a waxing to get to after I drop you off." I slide into Luca's car before he takes off.

"I appreciate you doing this." I smile at him. "I promise I'll grab a rideshare on the way home." Luca waves his hand dismissively.

"Never a bother, babe… unless I'm with my daddy, then your ass definitely needs to call a rideshare." I chuckle lightly as we make our way down the street. I groan and shrink in my seat as we are stopped by the red light in front of Hel's Ink. I see Ash outside laughing with–who the fuck is she? Furrowing my brows, I peer behind Luca's seat and stare at the way-too-pretty woman. She's got curves that people would kill for, and her rich, brown skin glows in the sunlight. The light turns, and Luca takes off, leaving me in annoyed confusion.

"You're going to need Botox if you keep that up," Luca teases as he presses his hand against my brows. I groan and lean against his shoulder.

"You'll still love me when I'm all wrinkly, though, right?"

"Uhhh… sure, I mean, my nonna is the love of my life, and she's all wrinkly." I stare blankly at him.

"Wow," I marvel. "So, it's not just straight men that say the absolute worst things. Is it just something hardwired in y'all's nuts or something?"

He snickers. "Yep, the left is for baby making, the right is for poor word choices. Everyone knows that. But of course, that doesn't explain you." He parks his car at the spot and looks at me, all bronzed flawless skin, perfect white teeth, and tousled black hair. Fucking effortlessly sexy bastard.

"Explain what?" I ask, more defensively than necessary. Luca sucks on his teeth.

"Sunday, babe, I love you, so know that when I say this, it's coming from a place of caring." He pulls his shades down his face and looks me up and down. "You're aging yourself, and it's not cute."

I look at him in outrage. "Well, that"s rude, especially considering you're thirty."

"I'm Italian, male, and obsessed with my looks." He counts off with his fingers. "I'm only getting more attractive as I age. You, on the other hand, are a ball of stress, and it's going to give you saggy skin."

"I don't think that's how it works," I mutter as I watch him shrug.

"You really want to risk it?"

"I don't give a shit about wrinkles or saggy skin. What I care about is my inability to find a man that wantsto be with me for more than a fuck." I watch Luca's face soften, and I shake my head. "Don't worry about it, go get your wax." I lean over and kiss him on his cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too, babe." Walking into the studio, I sigh and walk to the dance floor, removing my clothes until I'm in a sports bra and my dance shorts. I turn on the music and begin to stretch while trying to put Ash and whoever that woman was, along with my feelings, out of my head.

This is my last evening working until after my VNS removal surgery. I have a student who has offered to help me with demonstrations until after I heal from the surgery, and then after that, I'm going to have to call the club downtown and see if I can pick up a couple of shifts.

I hear the chime go off, indicating my students are coming through the door. I bend to my feet while I hear the footsteps moving into my dance floor. Turning, I go to say hi to whoever it is when I'm grabbed by the throat and slammed into my mirror. I try to gasp for air, but the hand is too tight around me. My eyes focus, and it's Josh, his bloodshot eyes full of anger. I dig my nails into his forearm, drawing blood and causing him to scream.

"You dumb ass hillbilly!" He yells, tossing me to the floor. I cry out as my hip crashes into my dance pole while I cough and gasp for air.

"Josh!" I gasp, holding my hand out as I try to get up. I cry in pain at the shooting pain in my hip. "Please! I-I don't know what's happening!" Josh grabs my ponytail, yanking me to his face.

"You fucking cunt, you think I wouldn't notice?" He slaps me across the face, and I stumble back, gripping my wall for support.

"Notice what?" I scream, my mouth filling with blood. Goddamn it, where are the students? Why hasn't anyone come in yet? He grips me again and smacks me across the face once more.

"Notice what!" He roars, gripping my throat. "You took all the money, you fucking slut! All of it!"

I grip his arm as my vision goes hazy. I'm mildly aware of a noise, but it sounds so distant, and before I can register what's happening, I've been dropped to the ground, and a blurry figure is hitting Josh with a stick of sorts. My eyes focus, and I see it's the bat I keep under the front desk, and the person is…

"W-Wade!" I rasp out as Josh tries to avoid my son's blows.

"Why won't you die!" Wade screams between each blow. I lunge forward and grab my son, shoving him behind me and taking the bat.

"Call for help!" I croak out while holding the bat out at Josh, who is focused on my son. He steps toward Wade, his body shaking and bleeding from the surprise attack. I block him, readying to swing. Wade is behind me on the phone calling, I assume, the police. My eyes glare at Josh. My adrenaline is the only thing keeping me upright at this point.

"I'm going to give that bastard of yours the beating he needed from me years ago." He snarls, moving again. I don't hesitate, swinging my bat with everything I have into his kneecap. Josh cries in pain as he falls to his other knee.

"I will kill you," I grit out. "I will beat you to a bloodied pulp and not think fucking twice. Do you understand me? Now get the fuck out of here."

"Mom–"

"Wade." I snap, my eyes not leaving Josh. If the police come, Josh will be in our lives permanently. We'll have to go to court, testify, trials, restraining orders—I won't do that to Wade. "Get the fuck out!" I scream at the man, raising the bat over my head. Josh scurries back before crawling out the door. I hear the door chime, and my body goes weak. I turn to my son, but everything is blurry, and I hear him scream my name before my world goes black.