She was wearing a skimpy black dress she'd first bought more than two years ago for a date. The date, as she recalled, had ended badly, with the guy feeling her up in the front seat of his car while they were parked outside Amanda's apartment, then getting mad when she wouldn't invite him upstairs. She hadn't wanted to sleep with anyone on the first date—her experience with Cole had made her wary of one night stands—and she definitely wasn't going to bring anyone upstairs while her son was in the apartment with the babysitter.The dress was probably a little too flirty to wear to meet her friend's fiance, but it was the newest and nicest thing she owned. It had been years since she'd been able to afford new clothes, other than a few cheap pairs of jeans and t-shirts from Walmart. It was either this dress, or something that was old, frayed, and possibly stained. James had once had the bad habit of vomiting all over her clothes when he was an infant, and her wardrobe had never recovered.The doorbell rang.
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