Page 7 of On Your Knees

“I don’t know if I could do it. What all does it entail?”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You’d just be serving cocktails in the lounge area. Or you could even work as a hostess at the front desk, making reservations all night long.”

I think about both options. “I do have serving experience.”

Greer smiles a warm and friendly smile. “I think it would be good for you. And the money they make is insane.”

Chloe nods. “Trust me, they make great money. You’d be able to afford the best lawyer in town.”

“I think my ex already has the best on his payroll.”

“I don’t do family court, but I can help you out with your case. Who’s your lawyer right now?”

I give her the name, and she scrunches her nose up. “Oh, well, we’ll definitely do a better job than him. What are you doing to help your case?”

“I’m going to St. Paul’s. I figured if I go to church it might make me look better to the judge. He’s a churchgoer.”

“Smart,” Ledger says, wrapping an arm around Posey. “The father there is a friend of ours.”

My eyes widen at the mention of the priest. “Really? You know Father Carmichael?”

Ledger nods. “Sure do.”

“He’s such a nice man. He helped me decide which course of action to take with my life,” Greer says.

“He’s so good-looking too,” I say, and the table laughs.

The laughter lightens the mood as the conversation continues. Roman brings a platter of grilled meats to the table, and everyone starts to dig in.

As we enjoy our meal, I feel a sense of acceptance from these people. It's completely different to the isolation I've felt since my divorce. Here, with the beauty of Greer’s home and the kindness of her friends, I start to feel a glimmer of hope. But you know what they say about getting your hopes up…yeah, you’ll most likely be disappointed in the end.

Chapter 3

Evangelina

Christopher’s number lights up my phone at twenty minutes to five on Friday afternoon, just as I’m merging onto the highway. My weekend with Nate is supposed to start soon, and I’m already en route to pick him up. I glance at the time and sigh. Typical. It’s most likely Christopher calling to say he’s running late. He’s always punctual with his clients but somehow never on time when it comes to handing over our son. I answer the call, already bracing myself.

“Hey, glad I caught you,” he says, his tone too light, like he’s about to ease into something I won’t want to hear. “Nate’s really sick, so we’re gonna have to reschedule your weekend.”

I feel a flash of frustration, my foot pressing a little harder on the gas as I speed through a yellow light. “It’s no problem,” I reply, keeping my voice steady even though irritation simmers beneaththe surface. “He can be sick at my house too. I’m his mother, Chris.”

There’s a brief pause before he responds, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I know, but the doctor really wants him to get his rest. He’d be more comfortable in his own bed where he can have constant care.”

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles going white. “I took the weekend off work. I can care for him just fine.”

Christopher sighs, like he’s trying to play the reasonable parent here. “But Jessica is a nurse. She knows how to handle this.”

My jaw clenches. Jessica. Of course. “No, she’s not. She’s the hospital administrator,” I shoot back, my voice sharper now. “There’s a difference.”

He chuckles softly, like this is all some big misunderstanding. “Same thing.”

“It’s not even a little bit the same, Christopher,” I snap, glancing at the traffic ahead, trying to calm myself. My mind flashes back to all the times he’s done this—taken my weekends, pushed me out of decisions. It’s like he forgets I’m Nate’s mother, too, and no title or relationship status changes that.

I picture Nate lying in bed at their house, his small frame curled under the covers, maybe with a fever, maybe just feeling crummy. He should be with me. He needs me, and I know how to take care of him just as well as anyone else, if not better.

“Look Eva, don’t you want to maybe have him next weekend when he’s better and you guys can actually do shit, instead of just watching him sleep?”

“Can I talk to him?” I pull into a parking lot, so I can focus on this conversation and not the task of driving.

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