Kimberly

I glanced at the clock on my dashboard—9:15 PM—and sighed. Mrs. Reynolds was safely tucked inside with the boys, armed with snacks and enough patience to get through the night. Tyler and Jeffrey had been instructed to behave, but I knew better. They'd push every boundary the moment I left. Maddox, my sweet baby, had already been half-asleep on the couch, the only reason I'd managed to sneak out without guilt swallowing me whole.

Well, not entirely without guilt.

Sneaking out at my age. What a joke. But what was I supposed to say? "Mommy's going dancing to forget about her life. Try not to burn the house down, boys! See you tomorrow!"

That would go over well.

I parked a block away from Aurora, the new club Trini had been raving about, and shifted nervously in the driver's seat. I hadn't dared leave the house dressed like this—not with Jeffrey's knack for interrogations. "Mom, why are you wearing makeup? Is it a date?" His questions always made me feel like the worst mother alive. So I'd opted for jeans and a sweatshirt at home, stashing my outfit in a bag and changing in the car like a damn teenager.

I reached into the passenger seat and yanked the sleek black dress out of the crumpled shopping bag. It was tight, short, and unapologetically sexy—not something I'd usually wear. Hell, it still had the tags on it. I wrestled it over my head and tugged it into place, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. The woman staring back at me looked…different. Confident, even. Or at least she wanted to be.

I smoothed my hair and stepped out of the car, locking it behind me as the bass from the club hit me like a physical force. The line outside was ridiculous—high heels, tight dresses, and cologne so strong I could taste it. But Trini had gotten us on a list, because of course she had. She could talk her way into anything.

Inside, the place was stunning. Two stories of neon lights and pulsing music, with a VIP section on the second floor overlooking the packed dance floor below. The air buzzed with energy, and for a moment, I let it wash over me.

"Kim! Over here!" Trini's voice cut through the chaos, and I spotted her waving near a small high-top table she'd claimed as her own.

I pushed through the crowd, dodging elbows and wayward drinks, until I reached pulled me into a quick hug, then held me at arm's length, her dark eyes appraising. "Damn, girl, you lookgood! Look at you, all legs and ass!"

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I feel ridiculous."

"Good. That means you're doing it right." She handed me a drink from the small high-top table. "Now, let's have some fun before you chicken out and go running back to the suburbs."

I took a sip of the drink, the fruity cocktail going down easier than I expected. I let Trini drag me onto the dance floor, and for a while, I let the music take over. It wasn't about dancing well, it was about moving, letting my body remember what it felt like to be free. To be Kimberly—not just the mom, the nurse, or the woman who couldn't get it right no matter how hard she tried.

About thirty minutes and two more drinks later, we were laughing hysterically over some guy's awful attempt at hitting on Trini when a woman bumped into us.

"Oh, shit, my bad!" Her southern twang immediately caught my attention. She was stunning—long braids cascading down her back, glowing dark skin, and curves that would make anyone do a double take. She was rocking a vibrant yellow dress that clung to her figure in all the right ways, and her smile lit up her whole face.

"No problem," I replied, stepping aside.

"Wait, don't I know you?" Trini said, squinting at her.

The woman laughed, the sound loud and free. "I don't think so, honey, but if you do, I hope it's from something good!" She extended her hand. "I'm Aisha. New in town, just here on a job."

"Trini," my friend said, shaking her hand. "This is Kimberly."

I offered a small wave, and Aisha grinned at me. "Nice to meet you, Kimberly. Y'all come here often, or are you as lost as me in this fancy-ass club?"

Trini laughed. "We're semi-lost. What kind of job brought you here?"

Aisha's eyes lit up. "I'm a traveling vet from Stone Canyon. Here because some god damn poor horses in town got themselves an outbreak of colic. I've been up to my elbows in shit all week, so I figured I deserved a drink. And here y'all are, lookin' fine as hell and makin' me feel underdressed."

We hit it off instantly. Aisha was sharp-tongued, hilarious, and had no problem oversharing. By the time we ordered another round of drinks, she'd already told us about her last failed Tinder date and how she once got bitten by a goat she was trying to save.

"You ever tried to give a goat mouth-to-mouth? Don't. They bite," she giggled, making me laugh so hard I nearly spilled my drink.

Then, a deep, confident voice interrupted us.

"Excuse me, miss" he said to Aisha, his voice deep and smooth, "but are you on the menu tonight, or do I have to settle for dessert?"

I turned toward the voice and blinked at the man standing in front of us. He was tall, muscular, and tan, with dark eyes that sparkled with mischief. His short brown hair was perfectly styled, and the grin on his face made it clear he knew exactly how bad that line was.

I cringed. That's your opening line?

Aisha's eyes widened slightly, and then she laughed—a loud, carefree sound that made his grin widen."Are you for real right now?"

"Absolutely," he said with mock seriousness. "I've got a whole collection of these. Want another?"

Before Aisha could respond, Trini butted in. "Aisha, you cannot let him get away with that. That line was terrible."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" he shot back, his gaze locked on Aisha.

"Oh, it definitely worked," Aisha replied, still grinning. "I'm Aisha, by the way. And these are my new friends Trini and Kimberly. And you are?"

"Rocky," he said, offering his hand. "Rocky DeSantos. And can I just say, you're absolutely stunning?"

Trini snorted. "Smooth. Real smooth."

Aisha waved her off, clearly enjoying the attention. "I don't care how lame the line was. It's the delivery that counts."

Rocky laughed, the sound deep and warm. "Exactly. And let me deliver this—can I buy you and your friends a round of drinks?"

"Hell yes, you can," Aisha said, nudging Trini.

The drinks arrived, each one balanced delicately on a tray carried by a server, but it was Rocky who handed them out. His smile was easy, confident—like he'd done this a hundred times before.

"Ladies," he said, setting a cocktail in front of me with a slight bow. "One for you, one for you…" He turned to Aisha, handing her a drink last. "And one for the queen."

"Oh, I like him," Aisha laughed as she took her glass.

Rocky leaned in close, his voice low enough that I couldn't hear, and whispered something in her ear. Whatever it was, it made her laugh—full-bodied. The kind of laugh that turned heads.

"Bold move," she teased, nudging him with her elbow as his hands casually settled on her knees.

He smirked, completely unbothered. "I don't mess around when I see something I want."

Jesus. I couldn't decide if I wanted to cringe or applaud the guy. Aisha, on the other hand, looked like she was eating it up, her grin as wide as his.

Trini and I couldn't help but giggle, sharing a quick look that screamed, What is happening right now?

"So, Rocky," I leaned forward with a smirk. "What's your deal? You crash clubs often and charm groups of women, or are we just special?"

"Very special," he grinned. "But if you must know, I'm a chef. In town visiting some friends."

Trini raised an eyebrow, her signature playful grin spreading across her face. "Oh yeah? These friends of yours… are they as handsome as you?"

Rocky laughed and then turned his attention back to Aisha, locking eyes with her like she was the only one in the room. "Absolutely hideous. Total trolls. You wouldn't even want to meet them."

Aisha raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is that so? Sounds like you're trying to keep me from checking them out."

"Damn right," he said without missing a beat. "I don't need the competition."

This guy was something else. Trini and I exchanged a look, trying not to laugh too loud.

"Where are these troll friends of yours, anyway?" Trini asked, sipping her drink like she was already filing away gossip material for later.

Rocky gestured toward the VIP section upstairs, barely sparing it a glance. "They're boring. Sitting at a table, probably arguing about baseball or some shit. I'm not dragging you ladies into that snoozefest."

He turned his full attention back to Aisha, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Unless you're into boring, in which case, I might have to reevaluate everything."

Aisha rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't waver. "Nice try. I'm staying right here. This is way more fun."

"Smart choice," Rocky leaned back in his chair with a cocky grin. "Besides, dancing sounds better anyway."

A few minutes later, we were all on the dance floor, the music pounding through my veins and the drinks making me just loose enough to stop caring about anything but the beat. Rocky was a natural, somehow managing to dance with all three of us while keeping his focus laser-locked on Aisha.

He spun me once, his grin infectious, before moving to Trini, who twirled dramatically just to mess with him. But it was Aisha who got the full treatment—a little closer, a little slower, his hands on her waist just shy of being too much.

The guy was smooth. Too smooth, maybe. But damn if it wasn't entertaining to watch.

Then, as I was mid-laugh, feeling lighter than I had in months, a hand tapped my shoulder. I turned, still smiling, to find a man standing behind me. Early thirties, sandy brown hair, and a grin that screamed practiced charm.

"Hey," he said, his voice low but somehow cutting through the music. "I couldn't help but notice you. Want to dance?"

I blinked, caught off guard. My smile faltered for a second before I instinctively glanced back at Trini and Aisha. Aisha, bless her, gave me an exaggerated thumbs-up, while Trini mouthed, "Do it!" as if I was about to embark on the adventure of my life.

The man stood patiently, his hands shoved casually in his pockets. His smile wasn't cocky, but it wasn't shy, either. He had this calm confidence, the kind that said he'd been turned down before and lived to tell the tale. I liked that.

"Sure."

I let him lead me a few steps away, the crowd parting just enough for us to carve out a spot on the dance floor.

His hands hovered, polite but ready, and I placed mine lightly in his. The music pulsed through the floor, through my body, and we started moving. He wasn't bad—fluid, unhurried, and thankfully not one of those guys who mistook grinding for dancing.

"So," he leaned in just enough for me to hear him. "What's your name?"

"Kimberly."

"I'm Spencer," he replied, his smile widening.

He was nice. Cute, even. But as we danced, I found my thoughts drifting—not to Spencer, but to the way Rocky and Aisha had been bantering earlier. To the way Rocky couldn't keep his eyes off her.

I've seen that same look on Tommy.

The thought hit me like a slap, sharp and sudden. I don't know why my mind went to him. What he would think if he saw me right now. I shook it off, focusing on Spencer as he spun me around. His grip was steady, his smile still plastered in place, but it was like I wasn't even there. Not really.

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm here to have fun, not spiral.

As the song ended, Spencer stepped back, his hands lingering just a second too long. "You're a great dancer," he said, his voice warm but laced with something… expectant.

I forced a smile, the edges fraying with exhaustion I couldn't quite hands had been too eager, his body too close, and while it was flattering, I wasn't in the mood for a random hookup. "Thanks. That was fun."

His eyebrows lifted, like he'd expected more from me. "Want to grab a drink or—"

"I'm gonna hang with my friends for a bit," I cut in, my voice polite but firm. The last thing I needed was to lead him on. "Thanks for the dance, though."

For a split second, his grin wavered, but he recovered quickly, flashing a wink that was way too smooth. "Alright, Kimberly. I'll come find you later."

I watched him walk off, and the damn flutter in my stomach refused to disappear. What the hell was that? One wink and my insides were already doing a fucking tango. I was definitely out of practice.

"Girl, you are way too nice," Trini said, her voice teasing as she nudged me with her shoulder.

I couldn't help it—I giggled. "It's just a dance, Trini."

"Uh-huh, sure," she laughed, her eyes following Spencer as he disappeared into the crowd. "If it were me, I'd have taken him up on the offer."

"Maybe you should've," I teased, grabbing my drink from the bar. "He was looking at you too."

"Meh, not my type," she said with a sly grin.

Across the room, Rocky and Aisha were in their own world on the dance floor, and damn if they didn't look good doing it. His hands were low on her waist, hers looped around his neck, their bodies pressed together and moving like they'd been doing this for years.

Trini and I burst into laughter at the sight.

"Look at them!" Trini squealed, nearly spilling her drink. "They're going to burn this place down with all that heat."

"I know!" I laughed, clutching my stomach. "We should probably look away before it gets illegal."

Trini sighed dramatically, fanning herself. "God, I hope I end up in someone's bed tonight."

I playfully shoved her, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm serious!" she turned to me with a knowing look. "You need it just as much as I do, maybe more."

"Excuse me?" I said, mock-gasping.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't act so scandalized, Kim. You've been living like a fucking nun since Travis left. And honestly? You need a good dicking to snap out of it."

I nearly choked on my drink, laughing and gasping at the same time. "Trini! Jesus Christ."

"What?" She gave me an unapologetic grin. "I'm just telling the truth. You're wound so tight, girl. Once you finally let someone fuck the stress out of you, you won't be so scared to feel whatever the hell you feel."

"Oh my God," I shook my head but laughed anyway.

Trini leaned in, her voice dropping just a bit. "And let's be real. We both know who you're scared to feel something for."

Her words hit me like a punch, and my laughter faltered for a second.

Tommy.

Of course, she was talking about Tommy.

I swallowed hard, my mind immediately going to that night two weeks ago—the night he came over for dinner, busted my damn pipe, and somehow managed to make me laugh harder than I had in months.

The same night he saw right through my carefully built walls and caught me in one of my weakest moments.

I could still see him standing on my porch, his dark eyes steady as he asked me if I was okay. And then—God help me—I let him in.

Not into my house—into me. Into my thoughts, my feelings, my weaknesses. I told him the truth about how hard it was, about how much I was barely holding it together. And instead of judging me or brushing it off, he just stood there and said, You don't have to be brave for me.

Fuck.

My chest ached at the memory, the intensity of it, the vulnerability it took to let those words sink in. I didn't trust him—not fully. But I wanted to.

"Earth to Kimberly," Trini said, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked, snapping back to reality. "What?"

She smirked knowingly. "You totally checked out just now. Thinking about him, weren't you?"

"No," I lied, taking a long sip of my drink to avoid her gaze.

Her raised eyebrow told me she didn't buy it for a second. "Still thinking about what I told you?"

"What?" I repeated, feigning ignorance. But I knew exactly what she was referring to.

The blonde woman.

A week ago, Trini had mentioned seeing Tommy out at a restaurant with some gorgeous blonde—statuesque, poised, the kind of woman who looked like she belonged on the cover ofVogue. She said she'd been leaving the restaurant just as the blonde had walked in, her arms going around Tommy in a hug like they'd known each other forever.

It felt like a knife to the heart when Trini told me. Even though I had no claim to him—no right to feel anything about who he spent his time with—it still hurt.

It hurt like hell.

"The blonde woman," Trini pressed.

"I don't care," I lied, my voice sharper than I intended. "Tommy and I aren't together, and if he's seeing someone else, that's his business."

"Kim…" Trini reached out, her hand brushing my arm. "Don't do this. Don't shut down. I know you—this is bothering you more than you want to admit."

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. "What do you want me to say, Trini? That it felt like a punch to the gut when you told me about her? That I'm an idiot for believing anything he's ever said to me? Fine. You win. It hurt. Are you happy now?"

Trini's eyes widened in surprise, but I wasn't done.

"He said I was different, Trini. He looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't like the others, that he wanted me. And I believed him. God, I'm so fucking stupid." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it.

"You're not stupid," she said softly.

I shook my head. "Yes, I am. Because while he's out wining and dining some blonde who looks like she walked off a runway, I'm sitting here, trying to figure out why I care. Why the hell do I care, Trini?"

"Maybe because you like him more than you want to admit."

I barked out a laugh, bitter and raw. "No. I liked the idea of him. The idea that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he wasn't the guy everyone said he was. But I was wrong. He is that guy. He's exactly that guy."

"Don't even," she shot back, her tone sharp. "That man is obsessed with you, Kim. Don't play dumb."

I scoffed, bitterness creeping into my voice. "Clearly not. If he's out with other women, then whatever he's said to me is bullshit. I'm not special, Trini. I'm just another option to him, and I refuse to be anyone's fucking backup plan."

Her expression softened, and she reached over to touch my arm. "Kim, don't talk like that. You are special. Tommy sees it."

I shook my head, laughing bitterly. "If I was so special, he wouldn't keep giving me reasons to doubt him. He's got this reputation, right? The playboy doctor, the guy who's always got someone on his arm. I'm not naïve enough to think I could change that. I'm not even sure I want to."

But even as I said the words, they rang hollow. The truth was, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe every damn thing he'd said—that I wasn't just another woman to him, that I was different, that he wanted me.

But then there were the women, the late-night dinners, the stories that chipped away at every ounce of trust I tried to build.

I didn't want to care.

But I did.

Trini's lips parted, but before she could respond, Aisha came bounding over, breathless and glowing from the dance floor.

"You two are missing out!" she said, grabbing her drink and taking a long sip. "Rocky's got moves—terrible ones, but moves all the same."

I forced a laugh, trying to push the conversation with Trini to the back of my mind.

Before Trini could respond, a Spencer slid into the empty stool next to me, flashing a charming smile.

"You looked like you could use another drink," he said smoothly, gesturing to the bartender.

I forced a smile, but my heart wasn't in it.

I sat at the table, swirling my drink and pretending not to notice the way Rocky and Aisha were practically glued to each other. They came back from the dance floor, laughing, holding hands like they'd been together forever. Aisha's smile was bright, her carefree energy radiating as she leaned into him, her fingers brushing his arm. He couldn't stop looking at her either, like she was the only woman in the room. It wasn't jealousy exactly, but damn, didn't it look nice? That ease, that simplicity. Two people meeting and just…clicking. No overthinking, no complications, just pure attraction and connection. I couldn't remember the last time anything in my life had felt that easy.

I sighed quietly, hiding it behind the rim of my glass as I nodded absently to Spencer, who was still droning on about his thrilling job in corporate finance. He'd joined us after we danced earlier, and I'd made the mistake of being polite. Big mistake. Now he wouldn't leave.

"…so, that's why I always tell my clients to invest in mid-cap stocks," he said, swirling the whiskey in his glass like it made him sophisticated.

"Mmm," I hummed, taking another sip of my drink. God, this was painful.

I stole a glance at Trini, who was scrolling on her phone with an expression that said, save me. I couldn't agree more.

"So, Kimberly," Spencer said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping like he thought it was sexy, "what do you do for fun?"

Lie. Make something up. Get him to leave.

"I—"

"Besides breaking hearts on the dance floor," he added with a grin that made my skin crawl.

Kill me now.

"Oh, you know," I said dryly, "work, kids, sleep. The basics." I gave him a tight smile, hoping he'd get the hint.

He didn't.

"Kids?" His eyebrows shot up. "Wow, I wouldn't have guessed. You look amazing."

Trini snorted into her drink, muttering under her breath, "What a charmer."

I shot her a warning look, biting back a laugh.

Spencer, oblivious, kept going. "So, are you one of those supermoms who does it all? Work, sports, PTA meetings?"

I forced a laugh. "Something like that."

"I admire that," he said, his tone dripping with insincerity. "It must be so hard to find time for yourself. You deserve someone who can help you unwind."

"Oh, trust me, I unwind just fine on my own."

Trini coughed, poorly disguising her laughter as Spencer blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"You good?" Trini asked, leaning closer to me.

"Yeah," I said quickly, pasting on a smile. "Just tired."

Before I could say more, a loud clap echoed behind us, followed by a deep, familiar voice. "Well, well. Rocky, you're not going to introduce me to your new friends?"

Rocky turned, grinning wide as he was greeted by a tall, broad-shouldered man who slapped him hard on the back. My heart sank as I recognized him instantly—Jason Scott.

"Oh, no, no, no," Rocky said with a laugh, holding his hands up dramatically. "You need to scram, Scott. I already called dibs on these lovely ladies."

Jason smirked, clearly unfazed. "Dibs? That's cute." His voice was smooth, laced with amusement, but his eyes were locked on Trini.

Trini, of course, didn't miss a beat. She crossed her arms, one eyebrow arching in challenge. "So, this is the friend you've been hiding?"

Jason smirked, cocking his head. "You sound disappointed."

"Not yet," Trini shot back, grinning.

Rocky threw his arm around Jason's shoulders, shaking his head. "I'm sorry you had to meet the troll. I told you he was hideous."

"Hideous, huh?" Trini tilted her head, giving Jason a slow once-over. "I don't know, Rock. I think I've seen worse."

"Flattered," Jason said dryly, though his smile deepened, his focus on Trini unwavering.

"Wait a second," Trini's eyes narrowing. "Aren't you the coach? Little Tykes or whatever?"

Jason nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Guilty."

Rocky groaned. "Ugh, don't remind him. The man's a walking workaholic. He came here straight from some lawyer thing. Seriously, don't encourage him, Trini."

Jason ignored him, his gaze flicking to me. "Kimberly," he said, his voice warm.

I froze, unsure how to respond. We'd barely exchanged more than a handful of words since the kids' baseball season started. And yet, his look was… knowing. Like he knew all about me. Which, of course, he probably did. Jason and Tommy were close, and I was sure Tommy had told him everything.

Every messy, complicated detail.

I forced a polite smile. "Jason."

"Holy shit," Rocky nearly spit out his drink. He turned to me, his liquor dripping down his chin. "You're the Kimberly?"

Oh my god. No.

I didn't answer. My stomach was twisting itself into knots.

Jason ignored him, his attention shifting again—this time to Spencer. My boring, uninvited dance partner.

And then it happened.

Tommy.

He walked in like he fucking owned the place, and for a second, the entire room seemed to shift.

He was dressed to kill—an expensive, fitted suit that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered perfectly at his waist. His shoes gleamed like they'd just been polished, and his watch caught the light, practically screaming,This is worth more than you'll make in a year.

And the bastard wore it all like it was nothing.

I couldn't stop staring.

My mouth went dry, my heart kicking up like a jackrabbit.

We hadn't spoken. Not a single word—since that night on the porch when I'd let my walls down just enough for him to see how broken I really was.

But now? Now he was here, looking like something out of a fucking magazine, and I couldn't breathe.

"Tommy!" Jason called out, waving him over.

Of course. Of fucking course.

Tommy's eyes scanned the room, taking it all in before landing on our table then he saw me.

Our eyes collided, and the air fucking crackled.

My chest tightened, my pulse thudding so loud I swore everyone could hear it. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes—dark, intense, like he was a second away from burning me alive. Something flared in that gaze, something dangerous and possessive that made my stomach churn and my thighs clench all at once.

Goddamn him.

I wanted to look away, to break the connection, but I couldn't. I was frozen, caught in the pull of him like he had his hand around my throat, squeezing just enough to remind me he could shatter me if he wanted to.

And then his eyes flicked to Spencer.

Poor, clueless Spencer.

"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Spencer." He stuck his hand out with a cheerful smile like we were all at some team-building seminar and not the goddamn Hunger Games.

Tommy's gaze dropped to Spencer's outstretched hand, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, until I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of it.

And then Tommy spoke.

"Spencer," he said, his voice low and smooth but sharp enough to cut glass, "you're in my seat."

My stomach dropped.

Spencer blinked, his hand faltering. "Oh, uh… I didn't realize—"

"You do now," Tommy cut him off, his tone laced with authority, like this was a goddamn courtroom and he was judge, jury, and executioner. "Move."

Spencer hesitated, looking at me for some kind of confirmation, but I couldn't even speak. My throat was dry, my brain short-circuiting.

Tommy didn't wait. He stepped closer, towering over Spencer in a way that was somehow casual but also screamed move or die.

And Spencer? He moved.

He stood awkwardly, mumbling something about grabbing another drink, and the second he was gone, Tommy slid into his seat like he'd been there all along.

And me?

I was fucked.

Author note: Hello friends! Hope you guys enjoyed this new chapter. Ahh, I'm just having so much fun with writing. I hope you guys are having as much fun as I am. Let me know what you think in a PM or review! See you guys in my next chapter!