Free Now or Never: A Last Chance Romance (Part 1) by Logan Belle

worry about things like that.  Not ours.”
    “It would be nice to have some input into the department.  Or you know what, it would have been nice just to hear, that’s a great idea, but corporate will never go for it.  Would that be so hard for her?”
    Patti puts down her steak sandwich.  “Is this really about the organic cosmetics issue?”
    Oh no.  Here it comes.  Patti the armchair psychologist.
    “Yeah.  What else would it be about?”
    “How’s the support group going?” she says.  Oh, no.  I knew this would come up again sooner or later.  I’d been hoping for later.
    “Don’t be mad at me, but I haven’t been going.”
    She looks at me, incredulous  “You’ve been telling me every Thursday night you’re heading to the Y.  You’ve been lying this whole time?”
    “No.  I have been going to the Y.  Just not to the support group.”
    She wipes her hands on a paper napkin and leans forward, elbows on the table.  “I’m not following.”
    “I found a…reading group.”
    “Like our book club?  By the way, can you do seven-thirty on Friday instead of seven?”
    “Yeah, sure.  That’s fine.”  I have a glimmer of hope that I’m off the hook.  She’s already moved on to the topic of our monthly book group, which she’s hosting.
    “So is it?” she says.  I pretend not to know what she’s talking about.  But she’s not giving up.  “Is the Y thing like our book club?”
    “Um, no.  It’s more people reading their own writing.  Short stories.  That sort of thing.” I smile.  I can’t help it — just thinking about Dylan’s latest story makes it difficult to keep a straight face.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “It’s not funny.  It’s just, the stories are all sexual.  Very explicit.  It’s really the craziest thing.  I walked in one night by accident and I was completely riveted.  I’ve been going back ever since.”
    She looks at me blankly.  Clearly not amused.
    “Instead of the support group?”
    “Yeah,” I say.
    My phone vibrates.
    I’ll pick you up tonight at ten. And I won’t take no for an answer. We have a deal.
    I tap back.  You’re making it really hard to get my beauty rest.
    “I wish you would deal with this,” Patti says.  “I know you’re handling it technically, but emotionally, I’m not so sure.”
    He texts, You could have fooled me.
    “Claire, are you listening to me?”

Chapter 12
    Justin didn’t give me a hint where we are going tonight.  I tell myself that is the reason why I can’t figure out what to wear.  The truth is, I already wore my one good outfit the other night to Red Ruby’s.
    One of the many drawbacks of having a uniform for work every day and not going out at night is I have no reason to shop for clothes, and therefore I haven’t — in years.  I settle for a simple, dark blue Anne Taylor dress that belts around my waist and falls just above my knee, and pair it with black Cole Haan heels.
    I wait in the living room until I and see headlights in my driveway, and meet him outside before he has a chance to come to the front door.
    “Hey,” I say, sliding into the car.  The radio is playing a Black Keys song, “Gold on the Ceiling.”  I love this album.  Max downloaded it for me and insisted I listen to it.  I learned years ago to stop bemoaning the fact I was at an age where I discovered new music only through my kid.  And I consoled myself by remembering I’d introduced him to Nirvana and Pearl Jam.
    “Hey,” he says.
    “So where are we going?”
    He glances at me.  “Don’t you have The List memorized by now?”
    I have, actually.  Number three: Go to a strip club.
     
    *** ***
     
    The building on South Street is impossible to miss, shining with an obnoxious pink neon sign that says Private Eyes, along with a silhouette of a naked woman with tiny hips and enormous breasts.
    “How…welcoming,” I say sarcastically.
    “Don’t be a hater.”
    I’m uncomfortable walking inside, as if