Reginald frowned and instinctively turned to me. "That's just how Fiona is. She says whatever's on her mind. She doesn't mean anything by it."

"Don't take it personally."

The same people who'd been tearing me apart seconds ago burst into jeering laughter.

"Oh, the second the main girl walks in, Reggie can't help himself—already jumping to her defense!"

"Like that old hag would dare take it personally? Calling her ma'am is generous. She looks more like a grandma!"

"Who cares about her? She's useless to Reggie now anyway. Come on, raise your glasses—here's to Reggie finally shaking off that secondhand woman and her little bastard kid!"

Each word hit like a fist to the skull. I drew in a long, shaking breath.

While they were still gaping, I closed the distance in two strides.

I swung with everything I had and slapped the man so hard his head snapped to the side.

"Keep my daughter's name out of your filthy mouth. Call her that one more time, and I will rip your jaw off."

Outside the bar, the night air hit my face like cold water.

That was when I realized my whole body was shaking.

My hand found the thin card in my pocket and squeezed. The paper edge bit into my palm, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

It was the invitation Moira had made by hand.

Three stick figures drawn in crayon, holding hands in a row. Like a real family.

But the one labeled with Reginald's name was smeared now, blurred beyond recognition by the blood seeping from my palm.

For a moment I just stood there, numb, before the tears caught up to me.

The wind dried them on my cheeks. My skin pulled tight, stinging.

I'd met Reginald at the lowest point of my life.

I was fighting Alvin in a brutal divorce, left the marriage with nothing, scrambling to keep my head above water. At the same time, I'd dusted off my parents' old trade and started selling breakfast burritos from a street cart—anything to cover Moira's tuition and keep food on the table.

The very first morning I set out, the cart's tire blew on the way there.

I crouched on the curb for what felt like forever, hands black with grease, and the tire stayed flat.

But if I didn't set up that day, Moira and I wouldn't eat.

Then I heard her stomach growl. She pressed her little hand against it and whispered, "I'm not hungry, Mommy. My tummy's just being weird."