It wasn’t that (or just that).

It was that he’d be gone.

I opened my mouth to yell something over the noise of his motorcycle and Travis hit me in the jaw.

I looked down at my son.

I needed to get him to safety.

And then get him to his dad.

I closed my eyes, opened them, and saw Joker jerk his chin in an impatient way to my car.

So I hurried there, opened the passenger-side door, got my son safely in his car seat, rounded the car, and got in.

Joker didn’t merge into traffic until I did. He also didn’t leave the interstate until I did. He followed me off the ramp to Speer Boulevard.

Then he turned off.

And was gone.

CHAPTER THREE

Down on Her Knees

Carissa

I LOOKED INTO the mirror and blocked out all thoughts but what I could see.

The dress wasn’t bad. It was one size up from what I’d worn before Travis, but it was cute. It was a blushy-pink fake silk underneath with a chiffon overlay in blush with black butterflies on it. It had no sleeves but it did have wispy frills at the arm holes. It had a full, shortish, flirty skirt, pleats up the front of the bodice, a scoop neck with a little bow at the base, and another bow at the belt at the waist.

It hid my little leftover baby pouch. It also hid my larger-since-Travis behind.

I wore it with my amazing black sandals with a thin T-strap, big double-winged butterfly at the toe, and platform wedge with cork at the sides.

All this was cheap, not to mention, I’d bought it on sale, the only way I could afford clothes for me, clothes I needed since none of my old ones fit.

Still, it was cute. Or at least I thought so.

I’d done up my hair so it was fuller and the ringlets more pronounced. I’d also given myself a new pedicure, elegant, understated ballet pink on my toes. I had on good makeup, slight drama around the eyes, but mostly pink and dewy. And I’d used my expensive perfume, something I rarely used, since it was almost gone and I couldn’t afford to buy more.

I was ready.

Before I could think on what I was ready for, I rushed out of my bedroom and into another one of the three rooms that made up my apartment: the kitchen/dining bar/living room.

I grabbed the chocolate pecan pie with its homemade crust that I’d covered in cling film from the bar.

And again, before I could think, I dashed to my car and headed out.

It was two days after Joker had fixed my tire. I still had the spare on. I hadn’t had time to deal with it, what with work, laundry, cleaning house, not to mention pedicure and pie-making.