Her search had identified two other potential dates: one, a pudgy business owner who seemed bland and lonely; the other, a neuroscientist, awkward and harmless. The thought of reaching out to these strangers caused her no anxiety, but texting Gabe made her sweat. It was different with him. She knew him, she liked him, and she was slightly attracted to him, despite his age. So why was she hesitating? The other men might be completely benign, but Gabe was a known commodity. He was guaranteed safe, guaranteed to pay. With her heart thudding in her ears, she had sent him a message.

He’d responded to her within the hour, inviting her to meet him for dinner on the Upper East Side on Wednesday night. It was a trek from Brooklyn, but a treat to go out in such a posh neighborhood. And when Gabe offered to send a car for her, Nat was grateful and flattered. As she hurried home from school that evening to get ready, she felt a thrill of anticipation. It was wrong to feel excited; this was not a date, it was an arrangement, a way to pay her bills. But she couldn’t help but feel a bit like Cinderella . . . if Prince Charming had handed her a wad of cash as the clock struck midnight.

She was slipping into Ava’s black pencil skirt when her cell phone rang. It would be Gabe, canceling their rendezvous. He had commitments: a high-powered job, needy clients. As she rummaged through the clutter in her room for her phone, she was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. She had been looking forward to seeing him again. But when she found her device, buried under her robe on her unmade bed, it was her mom’s name on the call display.

It was not a good time to talk to her mother. Nat was about to embark on a date with a man several years her mom’s senior. The thought twisted Nat’s insides, made her feel guilty and gross. But she knew she could ignore her mom no longer. She picked up the phone and answered.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Finally.” Allana’s tone was not annoyed, as expected. It was relieved. “Why haven’t you called me back?”

“Sorry,” Nat mumbled. “I’ve been busy. With school and work.”

“Look, honey . . . there’s something you need to know.”

Her mom’s ominous tone made Nat’s stomach plunge. “Are you okay? Is it the kids?”

“The kids are fine. I’m fine. Derek’s fine.” There was a pause. She heard her mom take a fortifying breath. “It’s about Cole Doberinsky.”

A weight, dark and heavy, fell on Nat at the sound of his name. Nat was angry at Cole, afraid of him, even hated him. But she couldn’t deny that he had played a significant role in her life. Her first love, her first sexual experience, her first devastating breakup. And now, something had happened to him.

“He’d been going to school,” her mom continued. “Working for his dad part-time. Even dating.”