Nat was not Gabe’s disposable toy, not a trinket to be tossed aside when he grew tired of her. The way he looked at her and made love to her; the way he listened to her and promised to protect her. If Ava was right, if this was just a game to him, why would he bother? No. Gabe had to feel like Nat did. She was young, but she wasn’t gullible, she wasn’t a fool. She had enough life experience to know that her relationship was real, and she resented Ava for planting the seed of doubt.

She decided to text Gabe. He communicated with her frequently.

Can’t stop thinking about you.

Can’t wait to see you.

Can’t wait to touch you.

She always responded promptly, but she never initiated contact. He was a high-powered attorney with meetings and clients and cases. But if she reached out, he would make time for her. Because she was important to him. That night when they’d solidified their arrangement, he’d told her that his daughter and his work came first and second. Nat respected that. But she had to be a close third, didn’t she? A simple text would confirm it.

Walking down Wyckoff Avenue past hip galleries and happening bars, she pulled out her phone. Her hands felt weak, almost trembling. This was a test, she realized, of the validity of her relationship. If what they had was real, Nat could text Gabe without seeming needy and insecure. And he would answer. She stopped walking and typed.

I miss you.

Her heart hammered in her chest, as if she were about to press the big red nuclear button, not just send. But she did it. She launched the missile.

Gabe was going to respond, but she wouldn’t stand on the street waiting for those three little dots that indicated he was typing. Stuffing the phone into her pocket, she hustled toward home. As she walked, she played a game with herself. If she didn’t look at her phone until she was ensconced in her bedroom, his message would be there. Looking now would jinx it.

Letting herself into the apartment, she listened for the presence of her roommates. She was feeling fragile, upset by her meeting with Ava. She didn’t need an encounter with Mara or Toni right now. Things were civil but tense these days. The girls still disliked her, but she’d given them no cause for a confrontation. Nat heard a shuffling noise from the back of the apartment—Mara’s room. The angular redhead would be in there studying or tidying or plotting creative ways to evict Natalie now that her rent and bills were paid in a timely manner. As quietly as possible, Nat slipped into her room.

She removed her phone from her coat pocket, her brain already making excuses for Gabe. He could be in an important meeting. He might be with his daughter. At the gym. Or dead in an alley after a mugging gone wrong. With a deep breath, she looked at her screen.