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

wanting you to pay for all this stuff.”
    “Don’t worry about the money, Claire.  But now that we’re on the subject, I’m curious.  Raising a son while selling make-up at a department store?  How did you manage?”
    “Wow, this conversation is taking a serious turn,” I say, not entirely comfortable with it.
    “I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
    “His father paid some child support.  I didn’t do it all on my own.”
    “But that’s finished, right?  He’s eighteen.”
    “Yes, that’s true.”
    “So now what?”
    “What do you mean, now what?”
    “Are you going to work at the make-up counter for the rest of your life?”
    “Until I retire, yes.”
    Justin seems to contemplate this.  “Okay,” he says finally.
    I shake my head.  Whatever.  “Well, like I was saying, next time it’s on me.”
    “Fair enough.”
    I watch him pull out of the driveway.  And I stand there, alone in the dark, watching long after his car is out of sight.
     
    *** ***
     
    It’s a rough morning at work.
    I’m running on adrenaline left over from last night, and every face I do is sultry and dramatic, inspired by Kat and her fellow night crawlers.
    Unfortunately, the Suburban Square clientele do not want to look like strippers.
    “I think it’s a bit…much,” my customer says, looking into the hand-held mirror.
    She’s right.  But it was fun to play around with deeper shades, to go for something bold.
    “I’ll tone it down,” I say quickly, pulling Q-tips and translucent powder from my bay.  I quickly undo my strokes of genius.  I remove almost everything until she is wearing just a matte neutral on her eyelid, bronze liner, and a rose petal gloss on her lips.
    Sometimes I wish I could spread my wings a little and have a little more freedom.  I didn’t admit this to Justin in the car last night, but my dream — when I allow myself such indulgences — is to be a freelance make-up artist.  I haven’t thought about it in a year or two, but now the itch is back.
    My phone buzzes in my front apron pocket.
    I turn away from the customer and check the incoming text.
    Meet me tonight at The Four Seasons. In the lounge. 11PM
    I tap back.  I have my book club tonight.
    Don’t even tell me it goes past 10:00 . Nice try. Oh, wear the garters. Just a suggestion. Not trying to get all Christian Grey on you.
    I smile and text back, What do you know about Christian Grey?
    Wouldn’t you like to know.

Chapter 14
    Patti lives in one of those old stone houses that rarely come on the market, the ones built in the late 1800s that have small bathrooms and odd interior arches but charm you can’t replicate in new construction.  It was her parents’ home, the house she grew up in.  They gave it to her when they retired to Florida.
    It’s a five minute drive from my place in Bryn Mawr.  Everyone in the book club lives within ten minutes of each other.  Some of us are better at hosting than others, and lately it’s been falling to either Patti or myself.  Tonight, it’s her turn.
    “Don’t you look nice!” she says, opening the door.  I hand her a tray of brownies and a bottle of Chardonnay.
    “Thanks,” I say, kissing her on the cheek, though I just left her an hour ago at the store.
    I know I’m overdressed in my black pencil skirt and white blouse and shoes with a two-inch heel.  But none of my friends know this is just my first stop of the night.  In three hours, I’ll be sitting with Justin at The Four Seasons.
    Once again, finding something to wear tonight was frustrating.  I managed to squeeze into a skirt I haven’t been able to fit into in at least three years.  Somehow, I’m losing weight.
    I have no idea how I’ll sit through our discussion of Ann Patchett’s State of Wonder , even though I loved the book.  A month ago, the discussion would’ve been the highlight of my week.
    How quickly things change.
    Jen, Mila, Anne-Marie, and Karen are already here.  I’m surprised — I