She squinted. “Congressman Ford?” Panic bubbled up in her chest. What was he doing at her apartment . . . the apartment she’d hidden from Tony for the past ten months?
Mr. Ford slowly looked her up and down and Gabby’s cheeks went bright red. Her hands hovered over the dress awkwardly. Oh, who was she kidding? There was no hiding this ridiculous thing. She wanted to kill Madison.
“Hi, Gabrielle,” he said, stone-faced. “Mind if I come in?”
She nodded and opened the door. As they entered her tiny apartment, her heart was beating so fast that she was afraid he could hear it.
He looked around the small dim room, his lip curling as his gaze landed on the old futon that acted as both her couch and bed. Gabby’s morning coffee was still on the table, along with some candy wrappers and a half-burned vanilla-scented candle. Atop the cheap faux wood bookcase, a framed picture from Claire’s wedding—where she and the girls posed with cake-frosting mustaches—sat next to a photo of her and her mom on her eighteenth birthday, taken just a few months before Elaine went to jail.
She imagined her apartment through his eyes and felt so small, once again reduced to nothing but a poor girl whose mom was serving ten years in prison.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. At the very least, she always had her manners. “Sweet tea?”
His cold gaze met hers and her stomach dropped. “How long did you think you’d get away with it?”
Gabby swallowed the rising lump in her throat. She clenched her fists, her palms sweating. “What do you mean?”
Mr. Ford frowned. “Don’t play stupid with me, Gabrielle. We welcomed you into our home, into our lives, and you—” He cut off, his face reddening, and took a breath, as if to steady himself. “You deceived him. You deceived all of us.”
Gabby backed up toward the futon, afraid she might faint. “Listen, it’s not what you think,” she started, knowing the words sounded desperate. “It’s all a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? Can you tell me this—why does my son misunderstand that you’re enrolled in college when you’re not?” His voice got deeper and louder. “Why does my son misunderstand that your parents are dead when your mother is actually in jail?”
Gabby felt her breath leave her body and covered her mouth with her hands, trying not to cry. “How—how did you find out?”
Mr. Ford’s dark brown eyes flashed like steel, and she could suddenly picture Tony looking at her that same way. She hung her head in shame and embarrassment.
“I’ve got a reelection campaign coming up, Gabrielle. I vet everyone. Of course I’d look into someone who was planning on joining my family.”
That was it, then. It was over. She sat down on the futon, cradling her head in her hands. Gabby had imagined a million ways this would all fall apart, but never, ever thought it would happen like this. She felt wrung out and exhausted. “I love your son,” she said quietly.
Mr. Ford cleared his throat and she looked up at him. His gaze was smoldering. “That may be true, but nothing else is.”
Tears began streaming down Gabby’s face. “Have you told Tony yet?”
He shook his head. “No.” His eyebrows furrowed with disappointment. “My son means everything to me. He’s a good person. Your lies would destroy him. I’d prefer if he never knew about this.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. Did that mean he was really going to let her get away with it? Was he going to forget all of this happened and let her marry Tony anyway?
He moved closer to her, looming over her. “So you have a choice here, Gabrielle. Break up with him—lie to him if you have to, you’re certainly good at that—but don’t tell him how you deceived him.”
Gabby sat up straighter, her face feeling puffy and sore from the tears. “Or?”
Mr. Ford glowered. “Or I’ll tell him everything. I know my son better than you, and I can guarantee he’ll never speak to you again.”
She flinched. “Mr. Ford, I just told you, I love Tony—”
He waved an arm at her, cutting her off before she could protest or try to think of an alternative solution. “You didn’t hear all of my terms. Leave him—tell him nothing about what you did, but leave him—and I’ll get your mom out of prison.”
Gabby gasped, her mind reeling. “Why would you do that for me?”
“My son has a bright future ahead of him. He wants to go into politics, for god’s sake. He doesn’t need someone like you ruining his life. If freeing your mom is what it takes to make you go away, so be it.” He paused. “I’ll leave you to think about it. You’ve got one day.”
He walked out the door, leaving her alone with nothing but a stupid dress, a broken heart, and an impossible decision.
29
claire
CLAIRE PULLED INTO The Saddle’s parking lot, unsure what she was going to say when she confronted the stripper, but shaking with anxiety. Her mom’s words had been replaying over and over in her head the whole week, but it wasn’t until Gavin came home late again the night before that she finally got the nerve to do something about it.
Gathering her courage, she strode into the grimy building. The mood in the place was much more depressing than it had been on Saturday night, if that was even possible. An overweight bald guy was the lone guest, watching a brunette who looked to be about eighteen practicing her moves on the pole.
A petite blonde in a clingy red dress came out from behind the empty bar and walked over to Claire. “Can I help you?”
Claire quickly realized who was standing in front of her. She could never forget that long, bouncy golden hair or those perky breasts. There she was—the woman who was ruining her marriage. Up close, she was much prettier than Claire realized. Her stomach lurched. Had Gavin fallen for her?
Claire held her chin high. “Yeah,” she said, taking a deep breath. “You were with my husband on Saturday night—I saw you giving him a lap dance.” She shuddered at the thought.
The stripper’s blue eyes grew wide. “Um, do you want to speak to my manager?”
“No, I wanted to speak to you,” Claire said, pulling her shoulders back and hoping it made her look more confident than she felt. “I’m here to tell you to back off from my husband.” She hoped she looked and sounded threatening.
The stripper cocked her head to the side and put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry—I don’t even know who your husband is. But I can tell you that nothing inappropriate happened. I was just doin’ my job.”
Claire laughed harshly and took a step forward. “?‘Nothing inappropriate?’ I saw you grinding on him. You’re really gonna tell me that’s not inappropriate? You seduced him.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “As I said, I was just doin’ my job. It was a harmless lap dance . . . that he paid for. If there’s anyone you should be yelling at, it’s him.” She looked around the bar, as if searching for backup.