If Natalie’s arrangement was going to turn into something more valid, more permanent, she would have to build a relationship with Gabe’s daughter. It would not be easy. They were too close in age, too disparate in upbringing. And Nat knew the tribulations that came with having a stepparent; being one wouldn’t be any easier.

Suddenly, an incredulous bubble of laughter erupted from within her. How could she think of herself as a stepparent? She was twenty-one years old! Her potential stepdaughter was eighteen! Were her feelings for Gabe really so strong that she would consider it?

The man. The apartment. The life. What would she be willing to do . . . ?

Turning onto her street, she saw the warm glow of lights from within the building. As always, she experienced the queasy feeling that prefaced an encounter with Mara and Toni. She would head to her room and hide out there until the girls went to bed. Only then would she emerge to pee, to have a snack, to brush the beer scunge from her teeth.

As soon as Nat stepped into the entryway, she felt the aggressive energy. Something was about to go down here, something pivotal. It so rattled her that she considered slipping back into the night, heading to a coffee shop or an all-night diner. But avoidance was pointless. And impossible. Because Mara and Toni had materialized before her.

“Can we talk to you?” Toni’s voice was indignant but timorous. Nat could see the anxiety in her dark eyes.

“Okay.” To her surprise, Nat sounded calm, even casual, despite her racing pulse.

“You might want to sit down for this,” Mara said, pointing to the sofa.

But Nat shook her head. “I’ll stand.”

The roommates exchanged a quick look before Toni said, “We need you to move out.”

“Why?” Nat was not surprised, but she was not going down easy. “I’ve paid my rent and my bills. You can’t kick me out for no reason.”

“We know about your lifestyle,” Mara snapped, a gleeful light dancing in her eyes. “And we’re not comfortable with it.”

“What lifestyle?” But Nat’s face was turning red, belying her guilt.

Toni’s voice was almost sad. “We know that you’re an escort, Nat.”

“No, I’m not!” She sounded offended, incredulous, but shame and humiliation burned her face.

“We’re not stupid,” Mara retorted. “We’ve seen you dressed up, getting into that big black car. Some nights you don’t even come home.”

Toni elaborated. “A month ago, you couldn’t afford rent. Now, you’ve got money for new clothes and fancy bags . . . and trips to Vermont.”

“We saw your Instagram,” Mara said, struggling to hide her enjoyment of this moment. “Cute little inn you stayed at.”

Why had Nat posted that photo? She’d been showing off, and now she would pay for her arrogance.

“What you do with your life is up to you,” Toni remarked, “but we don’t want to be around it.”

Mara went in for the kill. “We don’t feel safe living with someone who’s in the sex trade.”