I tug at the hem of my shirt and bite my lip, desperate not to cower under his scrutiny. “Yes.”

Austin steps toward me, encroaching on my personal space in the way he does. The scent of his sweet and spicy cologne fills my senses, along with the new smell of alcohol. He hides it well, but he’s drunk. Usually that’s a complete turn-off, but Austin is different. I’ll never not want him. The heat from his body makes my skin tingle. My heart aches for him. I want to touch him. I’d give anything to have him hold me again.

He snarls, “I thought you were smarter than that.” His contempt slices through me.

Tears sting my eyes. I stand as tall as I can, pull my shoulders back and snap at him. “What do you care?”

Austin shrugs. “I don’t.” He brushes past me into the bathroom, slamming the door.

I Forrest Gump my way out of the party, not stopping for anything until I’ve put a safe distance between me and Austin Jacobs.

* * * *

I go through my masterplan checklist. It’s been a long week. But, with a bit of help from Jackie and Jessie, everything is set for Austin’s hearing tomorrow. All I need Austin to do is show up and he’ll have his life back. Vindication. Picturing his face, the relief and excitement, makes me smile. I want him to have everything he wants, even if that doesn’t include me.

Three loud knocks on my door startle me out of my daydream. I wrap my sweater around me tighter and glance at the time on my computer. Quarter past ten on a Thursday. Three more harsh knocks echo in the apartment. I creep over to the door, trying not to make a sound. I check the peephole and find my father standing there, seething.

“Father?” I ask, not trusting my eyes even after I’ve opened the door. I rub them vigorously, but my father is still standing in my foyer, more enraged than I’ve ever seen him. “What are you doing here?”

He holds up a piece of paper and waves it at me. “I am here so you can explain yourself.”

I take the paper from him and he paces anxiously. I spend a few minutes examining it while he fumes at my side. “This is an invoice from Mr. Phillips.”

He nods and points to the description of services provided. “Care to explain this?”

Despite his rancor, I stay calm and answer, “It was for legal fees.”

“Not your legal fees.”

“No. Not directly.”