Page 1 of Going All In

1

HOLLY

I’m late, but what else is new?

It’s Friday evening, and I’m rushing home from work as usual, but instead of getting ready to go out with my roommate, I have approximately thirteen minutes to get ready for dinner. I’m meeting my dad at a restaurant in Rittenhouse.

It’s not his usual scene—or mine—but I’ve been looking forward to a meal at the swanky steakhouse for days. Fancy restaurants expect you to be on time for reservations, though, and I’m cutting it close.

I brush out my dark hair and twist it into a simple updo, then add a swipe of blush to my cheeks. I’ve changed into my go-to little black dress, which is, of course, JJ’s dress that she let me use. That’s one of the reasons we’ve been roommates so long: we wear the same size, and living together doubles both our closets, or at least it doubles mine.

JJ’s clothes are typically more fashionable and revealing than even the simple things I buy, so it’s usuallymeborrowingherstuff. But if she ever wants to wear a pair of khakis or a sensible wrap dress, I’ve got her covered.

I paw through the makeup that’s littered across the cracked laminate counter, looking for eyeliner and ignoring the hairbrush that skitters off the counter and to the floor. Crap. I don’t even have time to pick it up, so I leave it there for now.

My phone buzzes with a text and I curse under my breath. In all likelihood, it’s JJ asking me to go to the bar with her. She knows I’m having dinner with my dad, right? I’m pretty sure I told her, and she’s aware that time with my dad is sacred. I’m willing to go along with her plans most of the time; after all, she’s the extrovert here who adopted me as her introvert sidekick back in grad school—reason number two we’re best friends. But tonight, she’s on her own.

Maybe it’s another text from the guy I met at the bar the other night. JJ and I went to Darby’s, which was our favorite bar during grad school.

I remember it being all fun and exciting, not loud and sticky like it seems to be now. The one redeeming spot of the night was meeting the guy. Maddox. I should check to see if the text is from him.

Shit. Or it could be work.

I swipe the phone open while I add some mascara. I know, work-life balance and all that, but I can’t turn off my social worker brain. There’s always the chance that some kid needs me, and for me, that always comes first.

Dad

Got here early. We’re sitting in the back. Take your time.

I blow out a breath of relief that it’s not work, followed by a small gasp of panic. He’s at the restaurant already? Crap.

At least it’s not work.

I put my favorite silver earrings on and hop across the living room while I pull on my heels one at a time.

It’s only when I make it down to the lobby to wait for my Uber that I think to wonder why he saidwe’rewaiting. Is he with someone else?

The ride across the bridge to Rittenhouse is quick, and I scroll through my phone while we’re driving, re-reading some of the texts from my one-night stand that might be more.

Maddox might have potential. I’m not like JJ, who always has someone on her arm, or at least in her bed. I haven’t actually dated since Jared, and that was three years ago. But there’s something about this guy. His quiet confidence, his engaging smile.

Between that, the two vodka cranberries I had, and the fact that it’s almost Christmas again, the vibes all mixed together with my emotions made me think it was a good idea to go home with him.

And fuck, was it hot.

I don’t do things like that, not ever. I make careful decisions about who I date. I get to know them before I go home with them. I go out with respectable, upstanding guys. Ones who don’t have the potential to humiliate me, especially in front of family, the way Jared did.

Memories swirl up around me, as cold and icy as the day of my mom’s funeral, before I can push them back down where they belong.

Maddox might just be a keeper. Let’s think about that instead. The off-the-charts steam of our night aside, he’s been texting me every morning.

Every. Single. Morning.

Just something simple: agood morningor ahope you slept wellor ahave a good day at work. But it’s enough to let me know he’s thinking about me, and we’ve only had that one night.

The Uber pulls to a stop at the curb. I thank my driver, then jump out and smooth my dress as I walk up to the restaurant entrance, walking as fast as I can in these heels without falling down. This place is fancy enough that they have the carpet on the sidewalk, and it’s working in my favor right now, keeping me from slipping on the icy pavement.

I tell the hostess that I’m meeting someone, and she directs me to a table in the back.

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