KING: Las Vegas Bad Boys(11)

I’m so appreciative of Mom watching Sophia so I can go to work and do things like go out tonight. But her commenting on my wardrobe—when I’m working my ass off—stings.

I make my own choices on where my money goes. Sophia doesn’t need to go to a private school. She doesn’t need to take organic applesauce in her lunchbox. I don’t need to take her to swimming lessons at the same pool her classmates go to ... or whatever other unnecessary-but-actually-very-important thing in my I’m-doing-the-best-I-can opinion.

Sophia comes before me. And then I make sure Mom has what she needs. I get whatever is left.

Tonight, it’s a jean jacket and black boots from halfpriceshoes.com.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go. Text if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be home by ten.”

Mom cocks an eyebrow my way and sits in her recliner, the remote in one hand, the white wine in the other.

“How about midnight, Cinderella,” Mom says as I set up an Uber. “Better yet, I’m giving you a hall pass. You never go out and really let yourself have a good time. Go. Play.”

I shake my head. “How do you even know what a hall pass is?”

“I’m pretty hip, Claire,” she says, turning on her show.

“We’ll see. Regardless, I’ll be home before Sophia wakes up, okay?”

I grab my purse and kiss her cheek goodbye, feeling nothing like Cinderella. That’s Emmy’s role. She was the one swept up off her feet by a Prince Charming. I don’t think there are any Kings left.



“Maybe lose the jean jacket?” Tess suggests, frowning critically. The three of us have just been seated at a private table in the back of Moxie.

“What’s wrong with this coat?” I ask, looking at Emmy for confirmation.

She grimaces. “It’s a little ... casual?”

“Casual? Ohmigosh, where did my friends go?” I ask, clicking my tongue. “A few months ago, Emmy, you were hard up for any shifts you could get your hands on, and now you’re the fashion police? How far you’ve come, girl.”

Turning to Tess, I add, “And since when do you get off judging anyone’s fashion sense?” She’s worse than Shoshanna on Girls. She has such a high topknot at the moment I’m afraid it’s gonna topple off her pretty head.

“Whatever,” Tess says, not taking offense. “It’s just, like, something a mom would wear. Not you, Claire. You’re the hot one. The one with sex appeal.”

Her words hit me hard. I’m in mom clothes, probably because I’m a mom.

I need to get some balls.

“Let’s get drinks and let me tell you about my honeymoon!” Emmy declares. A waiter seems to appear from thin air and we order. As soon as he leaves, Emmy leans in. “Oh, and I have to tell you guys something, promise not to tell?” It’s like she has gossip dripping from her mouth.

Okay, so maybe it’s not the time to reveal that I have a five-year-old tucked in at home.

Not that I care more about gossip than being transparent with my girlfriends ... more like avoidance is my middle name.

For a split second I’m scared Emmy knows about Landon and me and that is her gossip ... but then I realize she wouldn’t be telling me about my own hook-up.

I need the waiter to bring me back my Prosecco. Stat.

“So, I know this is crazy ... but Ace and I didn’t use protection once on the honeymoon.”

“Wow,” I say, reaching for the flute the waiter has just brought me. Taking a sip—okay, taking a full-on chug—I can’t hide my complete shock. “You want to have a baby? So soon?”

Emmy looks wounded, and she lowers her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ears with her perfectly-manicured finger. “Well, gosh—I mean, I know it’s soon. But Ace and I want a family. We have one another, but ... we want more.”

“Well, it’s your life. Do whatever you want. I mean, it’s just … you’re only twenty-two, and you’ve been married for two weeks, to a man you’ve known for two months. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, if you ask me.”

I know my speech isn’t exactly ... gentle. But gosh, what the hell are Emmy and Ace thinking? They have no clue what life is like with a baby. I did it solo, but even with a supportive partner it can rock your world. I just don’t understand why they’d want to shake the surface they’re just starting to build.

“Claire.” Tess’s mouth hangs open. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” My mouth is set in a straight line and I know I must look like a matronly bitch with a stick up my ass. I feel like one, too.

Emmy has tears in the corners of her eyes.