“I’ve loved driving since I was a kid. I feel more like myself behind the wheel than anywhere else. Let’s do it. I’ll start over. That diner was never right for me anyway.
I’ll come by tomorrow, okay? Thank you—both of you. I should go wash my face. I probably look like I scared you half to death.”
Irene patted her shoulder gently. “That’s better, Maggie. Don’t let one lousy man ruin your whole life. Once that baby comes, you’ll see what really matters. And if you need help, we’re right here.”
That was how Maggie ended up driving a cab. At first Arman was openly skeptical. He couldn’t imagine a petite young woman hauling luggage or handling a breakdown on the road. But after watching her drive—and seeing she could handle minor repairs herself—he changed his tune.
She got the job. Her spirits lifted. There was no time left for sitting around feeling sorry for herself.
The days flew by behind the wheel. She loved the work and looked forward to every shift. Her growing belly still wasn’t obvious, and she favored loose hoodies and sweatshirts, so she figured she could keep working almost until maternity leave.
Fortunately, she felt well. Morning sickness was mild, and aside from the occasional backache from sitting too long, she managed fine. It beat racing around a diner with heavy trays. The only real downside was the owner.
At the end of every shift, Arman demanded an explanation for every minute the car sat idle or strayed from the route. Worse, he had hidden cameras installed in every cab. He watched how drivers spoke to passengers and made sure no cash was being pocketed. Still, the rest of the crew was solid.
Maggie found it easier working with men than she ever had expected. No gossip, no drama—just people doing their jobs. She and Kevin stayed close, sharing coffee from a thermos and talking through life during breaks. He gladly showed her the ropes. One day dispatch sent Maggie on a particularly lucrative fare.
She was supposed to drive well outside the city to pick up a man leaving a party. He’d promised over the phone to pay whatever it took if she got him back to town quickly, so the fare looked like a good one. With that kind of mileage, it would mean real money. Maggie was in a great mood as she drove out.
She was already planning the baby’s room in her head—where to put the crib, how to find a decent stroller without spending a fortune, how much she needed to save. She tried not to think about Ethan, though now and then the memory still caught in her throat. But when she arrived, her good mood vanished. The big country house was in the middle of a full-blown drunken party.
The customer who had called was dead drunk. One minute he wanted to get in the front seat, the next he was shouting that he wasn’t going anywhere. Ten minutes later, the homeowner canceled the ride altogether. Maggie could have cried. She’d burned gas, lost time, and made nothing. And now Arman would be furious.
But how was any of that her fault? She called him, explained the situation, and asked what he wanted her to do. He swore at her and told her to bring the empty car straight back. Her mood sank even lower, and then the weather turned.
Rain came down hard, and dark clouds swallowed the sky. She was halfway back when a man stumbled out of the trees by the roadside and started lurching along the shoulder, slipping in the mud. He looked awful—clothes torn, face caked with dried blood. Maggie couldn’t bring herself to drive past and hit the brakes.
She told herself she’d only stop long enough to see if he needed an ambulance. If he reeked of alcohol, she wasn’t taking him anywhere. Pulling up her rain hood, she got out and hurried over. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need help?
