Rehabilitated

Summer

"Are you excited to be graduating in a few months?"

Placing my fork back down in my empty plate, I wipe my mouth with my napkin before giving my attention to my lunch companion.

I look over at my sponsor and good friend, Shay. Her long black and honey blonde tipped locs hang down to the middle of her back. Her dark brown skin is flawless and blemish free. Even though she's forty she doesn't look a day over twenty-five.

I lift one shoulder and let it drop lazily. "Yes, I guess. I mean, I've worked for this for four years."

Shay smiles as she leans forward on the table. We are at the restaurant where we always have our monthly meetings.

"It's okay to be nervous, Summer. Remember I told you that just because one goal is obtained, you can always add another goal. Life is all about striving for better."

I don't reply.

I spent six months in the rehab program Fem sent me to. It wasn't easy. Between the therapy sessions and the depression, I spent most of the earlier months crying. I learned that a lot of my issues with relapsing was due to the fact that I was going to rehab to treat my drug problem, but I never fixed the real issue. But I was finally able to heal from my father's suicide.

Before I left the program they connected me with a sponsor in my area. That's how I met Shay Covington. She has truly been the biggest help in my recovery process. Well, her and finding out that I was pregnant. Memories weren't the only thing I took from that night with Gabriel.

"You're still afraid of relapsing," Shay states.

I cut my gaze down to my empty plate on the table before looking back up at her. The thing about addiction is that it forever lingers with you. I've been clean for five years, but every day is a battle to stay sober. It may not require as much fight as it did in the early stages, but it's still a fight.

"You've made so much progress. Don't be so hard on yourself," she chuckles when I grimace at her words. "Why do I have more faith in you than you do?"

"Because clearly you don't know me as well as I do."

She shakes her head as she laughs.

It isn't that I crave the high anymore, I'm past that stage. I fear relapsing because I have someone very important that depends on me now.

"How's the jewelry business?" She asks distracting me from going down my self-pity spiral.

One of the things I was taught during my time at rehab is the importance of hobbies and finding other ways to stimulate the mind. An idle mind is sometimes my greatest enemy.

"The online business is great, and I was able to get my products in two more stores."

"That's wonderful," she says. "Everywhere I go I get asked about my pieces." She touches the jade necklace around her neck.

I made her a matching necklace, bracelet, and earring set one Christmas. Since then, she's been one of my regular customers.

"If you decide not to do anything with your degree in counseling, you can always go into making jewelry your full-time gig."

I smile at the complement and duck my head. It's not that I haven't heard it before. Summer Designs have been incredibly successful. Who knew I had the talent and the eye for jewelry design. However, the shyness comes by way of not being used to being told I'm good at something. That's all new.

Picking up my glass of water, I take a sip.

"Now how is that dating project going?"

I immediately choke on the water in my mouth. I place the cup back down and take a few minutes to pat my chest to keep from dying.

Shay watches me, a smirk on her face.

Of all the suggestions Shay has given me over the years, dating has been the only one I haven't been able to adapt to.

"I…uhhh….it's going."

She lifts a brow and cocks her head. She doesn't believe me. I don't blame her because I'm lying.

I know what this looks like. To someone outside looking in, it seems as if I'm still hung up over Gabriel and that isn't true. Did he show me more kindness in that one night with him than I'd received my entire life. Yes. Was the sex, even as unexperienced as he was, the best fucking sex I'd ever had. Goodness yes. However, I am not caught up on Gabriel.

"Have you been out in these dating streets?" I ask glancing at the beautiful diamond wedding set on her ring finger. "It's like a zombie apocalypse out here. Everyone is walking around aimlessly just trying to rub their body parts against each other."

She laughs but quickly covers it up with her hand.

"It's not that bad."

I roll my eyes. "Holding a conversation with some men is the equivalent of having your brains eaten. And if one more man asks me what I'm bringing to the table or call themselves high valued, I may purposely go back to drugs."

This time she tosses her head back and laughs. Although I was making a joke, it isn't funny. The dating pool definitely had chlamydia infested piss in it. Not that I was that much of a catch. I was indeed an ex-druggy single mother. But damn.

"What about the Mechanic you were dating a couple months ago?"

"Ugh. We went out on two dates, and he kept trying to get me to meet his momma," I say folding my arms over my chest.

"A little early," she shrugs. "But there is nothing wrong with that."

"She's dead."

She once again places her hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

Honestly, most of the men I meet never make it past the first date. The few that have, never make it longer than two months. And trust me, I am definitely the problem.

Every guy I've met these last five years has not held my attention. Even the few that made it to a second date. They all seem to lack something, but I don't know what it is.

If I could maybe figure out what the hell I'm looking for in these men, I might be able to make this dating thing work for me.

"Honestly," I say, shaking my head. "I'd much rather put my time and energy on my business and my baby boy."

The day I realized I was going to be a mother was the day my life changed. I had all the reasons in the world to not keep my son. I mean, I found out I was pregnant by a one-night stand while in rehab. However, as I glanced down at that little pee stick, I remember thinking, for the first time I had something worth fighting for. The day August Gabriel Jones came into this world is the day I found my purpose.

"Part of your recovery is learning how to deal with and maintain healthy relationships. Dating is crucial. Besides, I think it will help you get over that last hurdle."

I've only briefly told Shay about my night with Gabriel. Of course, I left out a lot of key details. It's hard to downplay being held captive, your life being threatened, and the number of murders I witnessed. That would have surely ended with me being in a strait jacket or prison. However, she knows he played a huge role in my recovery process.

"Do you want my opinion?" She asks once my silence has gone on longer than expected.

Not really.

"Sure," I reply instead of the truth.

Shay leans back in her seat, her long locs cascading over her shoulders. "I think you're self- sabotaging with the men you meet, because no matter how much you've changed or how much you've accomplished you still view yourself as that twenty-two-year-old, lost, drug addict that believes she is not worthy of love."

I swallow, wetting my dry throat. My gaze bounces around the restaurant in desperate need to find something to ground me. The words Nic said that night play back in my head.

"She doesn't deserve love. She's incapable of loving."

My watch vibrates against my wrist letting me know that it's time to go. I'm saved by the bell.

"I have to go," I sing, as I grab my purse off the back of the chair. "You know my babysitter is on a tight schedule."

Shay nods knowingly. "But we will pick up this conversation next month."

"Okay," I playfully roll my eyes. Shay laughs as she grabs her things as well. We make our way through the restaurant, waving at our waitress and the staff we know.

"Tell Josiah and the boys I said hi," I say as Shay and I part ways.

She gives me a brief hug before getting into her car. Before she shuts the door she calls my name. I turn to face her.

"You are worthy of love. Don't ever forget that."

I smile and wink at her before walking away. I appreciate all Shay has done for me. However, in this, she and I will always disagree.

I stop in front of my black Volvo.

When Fem picked me up from rehab after my six-month stint, I had plans of going to a halfway house until I could get a job and get my own place. However, I was shocked to my core to find out that not only did I have my own home, I had a bank account to go with it. Two weeks later, after I got my license, there was a brand-new Volvo XC40 parked in my driveway. To say I have been very well taken care of is an understatement.

As soon as I get in and pull off, my phone goes off. I press the handsfree option on the steering wheel. The car immediately fills with the sound of my son crying and screaming.

"Gabe, what's wrong?"

He doesn't reply. He just continues to scream through my car speakers. My heart knocks against my chest and tears fill my eyes. Clearly, he's having an episode.

"I'm coming, baby. I'm coming." I disconnected the call and rush to my mother's house.

The day Gabe was born, I stared down at his little round face and realized I've never loved anyone or anything as much as I did him.

When Gabe turned three, he was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum. I wasn't too shocked by the diagnosis because after paying attention to my son, I noticed a lot of his father's behavior. I have no doubt Gabriel was also on the spectrum.

His diagnosis made me go harder for him. I wanted my son to know that I didn't give a shit if he saw the world differently, I was going to always have his back and make sure that this world didn't treat him differently.

I make the trip to my mother's house in record time. I pay her $2000 a month to watch Gabe for me if needed. I wanted my son to have a relationship with my mother and sister even if I never did.

Most times, my mother only has to look after him once a month for two hours during my lunches with Shay. However, she still charges me the full price.

I park my car behind my mother's and jump out sprinting to the front door. The sound of my son's cries fuel my haste.

Stepping into the house, my gaze quickly scans the room. Mitchell is lying across the couch glaring at me.

After little MJ was born, my sister and her baby daddy fell on hard times. My mother invited them to move in with her. They've been here ever since.

"You need to take that hollering ass boy home," Mitch shouts.

I ignore him because my concern is and always will be Gabe. I follow the sound of his cries toward the back of the house.

The moment I spot him in my mother's room I run to him. He's sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees up to his chest. He's rocking back and forth, hitting his back against the wall.

I squat down in front of him. "Gabe, I'm here. Mama's right here."

He continues to rock and cry. I place my hand on his shoulder. He immediately goes into defensive mode. He kicks his feet out and swings his hands. I narrowly dodge getting hit in the eye.

"Gabriel. Gabe." I call his name as I try to hold his arms down.

Finally, my words seem to cut through to him. Those gorgeous forest green eyes open and stare back at me.

"Hey, baby." I say softly.

"Mama."

Every time he calls my name it melts my heart. For the longest, Gabe seemed uninterested in talking. He didn't start using real words to express himself until he was nearly three years old. Now, although he speaks, he doesn't do very much of it.

I pull him into me for a hug. He doesn't hug me back, but that's alright.

"I don't know what happened. One minute he was fine and then the next he was having an episode," my mother says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder to glance at her. She has her hands on her hips. My nephew is standing beside her holding Gabe's Iron Man toy.

"You don't know what triggered him?" I glance at MJ's hands and then back to my mother.

She looks to her favorite grandchild before turning to me.

"You have to teach Gabe to share his toys," mom says taking the Iron Man action figure from MJ.

I ignore her parenting advice. She walks over and hands me the figurine. I turn back to my son and give him his toy. He takes Iron Man and smiles up at me. My heart melts even more. I stand and pull Gabe up with me. It's then I pay attention to his arm. Welts go up his arm past his elbow. I move the sleeve of his shirt up and find a large bruise on his upper arm.

"He didn't get those here," my mother immediately starts to defend.

Ignoring her, I squat back down getting eye level with my son. He's busy looking over his toy.

"Gabe, give me your eyes." It takes a second before those beautiful irises look at me. "Who did this to your arm?"

He looks down at Iron Man once again.

"No, Gabe. Give me your eyes." He looks back at me. "Who did this?"

When he glances over my shoulder, I follow his sight. My nephew is sneering at Gabe, but his eyes widen when he notices me looking.

"He's lying. I didn't do it, Grandma," MJ pleads.

Shooting to my feet, I turn and face my mother and nephew. "You little asshole," I shout.

"Now wait a minute," Mama says holding up a hand. "If MJ says he didn't do it. He didn't do it."

"And if Gabe says he did, then he did."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Let's be serious here, Summer. Out of the two, who would you believe?"

I should be hurt by the way my mother is talking about my child, but hell she doesn't even like me. I thought that having her spend time with Gabriel would allow her to bond with him like she never could with me, but I guess once again I'm looking for something from her that I'll never get.

"Out of the two," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "One has anger issues, he's been kicked out of two daycares, has been suspended from school for fighting, and inappropriately touching other kids. And the other is a four-year-old whose only crime—as you would call it—is that he has autism. You tell me who I should believe?"

Mother's face falls. She knows I'm right. Despite MJ being her favorite, he's a menace to society. I don't think any kid is a lost cause. Hell, I'm a recovering drug addict, I have no room to judge. However, MJ is spoiled and entitled, and no one cares or wants to check him on his shit.

"Fine, I'll tell Raina to talk to MJ about keeping his hands to himself."

Undoing my belt buckle, I rip the belt from around my waist. "No, I'll speak to him in his language." Folding it in half, I yank at the ends causing it to make a snapping sound.

MJ screams and takes off out of the room. I chase after him. Am I overstepping? Maybe. But I will show my son that I am his protector. No one gets to abuse him and not face the consequences.

"Summer, don't you dare," Mother shouts behind me as she follows me out of the room.

"Watch me." I continue to chase my nephew through the house.

I have no intentions of hitting MJ with this belt, but I do want to scare his ass from ever thinking he can put his hands on my son or anyone else's child again.

MJ runs into the living room where his father is still lying on the couch. Mitchell jumps up when MJ runs in.

"What the hell is going on?" He yells.

"I'm going to teach your son some fucking manners."

"She's crazy," Mother cries out behind me. "I think she's on that stuff again."

I ignore her accusations. She claims I'm using again every other day.

I dart around Mitchell to grab MJ, but he sprints away. Just then, my sister walks into the house. MJ runs to her, crying. He wraps his arms around her waist.

"Mommy, Aunt Summer is on drugs again. She's trying to kill me."

"I'm not trying to kill you, you little shit. I'm just going to whip your ass." I grab for him once again. However, Raina blocks me by pushing MJ behind her.

"Don't you even think about putting your hands on my son," Raina shrieks.

"Your demon spawn put his hands on my child."

I hear a scoff from behind me that I know to be Mitch's. "Ain't nobody hit your punk ass boy."

I spin around on my heels and sock Mitch right in the face. I won't acknowledge how bad my hand hurts.

"Fuck, Summer." He grabs his nose.

"Call my baby a name again?" I challenge him.

Although I had no intentions of putting my hands on MJ, I had no qualms about punching his father.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Raina says, as she goes to her baby daddy's side.

My stomach turns at the way she coddles him. No matter what Mitch does to her she will not let him go. Right before MJ was born, she was cornered and nearly jumped by his other two baby mothers. She lost her apartment because Mitch was causing too many problems. Yet, instead of sending him on his way, they both moved in with mom because he gave her a cheap ring and asked her to marry him. They have yet to make it down an aisle.

"She's jealous," Mitch argues in a nasal voice.

I guess I did more damage to his nose than I thought. He holds his head back pinching his nose.

Snorting, I shake my head. "Jealous, of what?"

"Of me," Raina argues staring me down. "Everyone knows it. Mama even pointed it out."

This is a new one for me. Even in the midst of my addiction, I'd never been jealous of my sister. I may have yearned for the relationship she had with my mother, but I was never jealous.

Looking around the room, I search for what exactly she had that I was supposed to be jealous of.

"Am I missing something?"

She sneers as she takes a step closer to me, making sure to keep her body between me and her son.

"You think you're better than me because you have a fancy house and car? Who cares you went back to school. Everyone knows, once a druggy, always a druggy."

I roll my eyes. "You know the drug jokes don't hit like they used to. Find another insult."

She narrows her eyes at me. I'm pretty sure she thought bringing up my old drug habit would get under my skin. After I got out of recovery, her and mother would always joke about me relapsing.

They would say things like, I'll believe it when you've been clean longer than six months. When six months passed, they changed it to a year. When that came and went and I was still clean, they took away the expiration date, but continued to reference my possible relapse.

Eventually, I started to ignore their insults. My recovery wasn't about proving anything to either of them.

Raina rolls her eyes. "You want to know what you're really jealous of?" She asks, taking another step in my direction. "You're jealous of the fact that my son has a father in his life."

I snort in laughter. "Are you serious? I have dildo's that contribute more to my household than Mitch. How's the job search going, Mitchell? What's it been, four years now?" I ask the last two questions to Mitch.

"No one's hiring," he says in his defense toward my mother.

"I know," she says.

I side eye them both.

"He may not have a job," Raina says getting my attention back. "But at least he loves us enough to be here. Can't say the same thing for Gabe's dad. The man would rather buy you off than to be involved in your shit show of a life."

This time, I have no snarky or quick comeback. Raina had just hit me in the only sore spot I had.

Technically, I know Gabriel can't be with us. From my understanding, he's still in lock down for not killing me. However, it does bother me that my son may never get to know his father.

The quiet voice in the back of my head whispers, "But if he was here, would he be around?"

I ignore the hurtful taunt. Turning away from my sister, I spot my son. He's standing in the living room, clutching his Iron Man toy to his chest. He is my only concern and my strength.

"You're right, Gabe's father isn't around," I say, turning to face Raina. "I guess you win. I don't know what the prize is, but you've won it. Does that make you feel better? Is that what you wanted out of this argument?"

She crosses her arms over her chest and turns her head away. I realized a long time ago there was no salvaging our relationship, but I at least thought I didn't have to worry about her being my enemy.

"I'll make it even better for you," I say. "I'm going to take my son home to our fully furnished, forty-three hundred square foot house. With its five beds and 3.5 baths. I'm going to climb into my claw foot standalone tub and take a hot bubble bath and cry over the fact that I don't have a dead-beat man lying beside me in my mother's guest bedroom."

"Go to hell, Summer," Raina whines.

"Gladly. Come on, Gabe." He walks over to me, his head down. "Don't worry. I'll find someone else to watch him next month," I say to my mother.

"Now wait, I told you I'd say something to MJ. No need to find another sitter."

"Let her go, Mama. The money isn't worth it," Raina sneers placing her hands on her hips.

"Be quiet, Rai," Mitch tries to whisper.

It dawns on me, that's the only reason my mother has ever tolerated my son. Not only do I pay her the $2000 a month, but I also give her money for bills anytime she needs it since my son benefits from them. Hell, it's my money that keeps her lights on most months. Gabe means nothing to her but a little extra cash.

The realization hurts, but I'm not totally shocked.

"On second thought, you can all go fuck yourselves. I'll open my own daycare before I pay you to watch him again."

"Summer, don't be that way," my mother calls out to my back.

"Let her go. She'll need us before we need her," Raina shouts.

I walk out my mother's house with my son's hand clutched in mine. There is no love lost here today. I wanted my son to have a relationship with my family because I never did. But he has everything he needs in me and his godmother, Trina. We didn't need anyone else.

**

I peek my head inside Gabe's room one last time to make sure he's still sleeping. After the shit show at my mama's house earlier, he was anxious. It took a hot bath, four books, and a promised trip to the park to get him to fall asleep.

Closing the door to his superhero themed room, I make my way to my living room. Plopping down on the sofa, I grab my mug of ginger tea off the coffee table, tuck my legs under my butt and turn on the TV.

I'm spending my night like I do most nights, with mindless reality television. After settling on a housewife rerun, I lean my head back on the couch cushions. After all the shit that went on today, Gabriel crosses my mind.

I don't think about him as often as I did when I first got out of rehab. But he was brought up a lot today. I wonder what he's doing right now. I wonder if he ever thinks of me and Gabe. Does he wonder how we're doing?

I'm not stupid enough to believe that he isn't getting updates about us. Until a few months ago, Fem still made appearances. She told me on her last visit that she would be away for a while.

The ringing of my phone has me sitting up, I place my mug on the coffee table as I pick up the device.

"You're late," I say as I answer the Facetime video from my best friend.

Like clockwork, Trina calls me every night around eight. Unless she's out of the country or busy with her career as a makeup influencer.

For as little support as I got from my mother and sister during my rehab and after, Trina has made up for it. She has been by my side since I called her from the facility and told her I was going to rehab.

"I was getting some dick from my husband," she says with a smirk.

Three years ago, Trina met a man on one of her many dating sites. He was a widower with no kids. They had a whirlwind romance and got married a year later. He spoils my bestie, and despite her not wanting to admit it, she's madly in love with him.

"You don't have to rub it in," I tease. "Some of us are on a celibacy journey."

Trina scoffs. "Celibacy my ass. You're just still hung up on your baby daddy's dick." She rolls her eyes.

Placing a hand over my heart, I pretend to be offended. "I am not."

"Says the woman still wearing his hoodie."

I glance down at the oversized black hoodie that Gabriel gave me that night. The thing no longer smells like him, but I refuse to toss it out. Strangely enough, it brings me comfort.

Feeling as if I've just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I shake my head.

"Whatever. Where's Mr. James?"

Trina sighs and closes her eyes. "Can you please stop calling my husband Mr. It's just James."

"He's old enough to be my daddy. I don't feel right calling him by his first name."

"Girl, he's only forty-five with your awkward ass."

I toss my head back and laugh. There's no better therapy than laughter. All the crap from earlier washes away.

"So," Trina says picking up her glass of wine off the nightstand beside her. "How was your day?"

I quickly filled her in about my lunch with Shay and the incident at my mother's.

"Raina is delusional. I'm starting to think maybe she's the one on drugs."

I snort in laughter. "She's definitely smoking something. But what she said did sting a little."

"Why?" She asks, leaning her back against her headboard.

"I don't know, I just feel like maybe I should have made better decisions than to have a one-night stand with a man that will probably remain absent in his son's life for the rest of his life."

"Do you want some cake?"

"What?" I scrunch my brows trying to figure out where the hell that random question came from. "Why would I want cake?"

"To go along with the pity party you're throwing yourself."

I roll my eyes and sink back into the couch. "I'm serious, Trina."

"So am I. Cut yourself some slack. Women have been having babies by the wrong men for years. The shit happens, it's no one's fault. Plus, as far as absent father's go, yours is doing a damn good job. He paid for you to go to rehab and made sure that when you got out you never had to worry about anything financially. Girl, my daddy lived in the same house as me for ten years and never paid a bill."

Although I laugh, she isn't lying. Gabriel has been good. Not only did he buy me a house and keep my bank account full, I don't even pay the bills. Fem explained that everything would be taken care of, and she meant it.

"You have a point. He's definitely doing his part." I twirl the end of one of my small knotless braids around my finger.

"You know what I think the problem is?"

Leaning forward, I grab my mug off the table in front of me and take a sip. "What?"

"Every time I ask you about that night, you downplay it. You say it was nothing. That he's just some dude you met. Yet, your face lights up every time you talk about him. I think you like this guy and don't want to admit you really want more with him."

I scoff, opening and closing my mouth a few times as I try to come up with a response that will refute her claim.

The night I had with Gabriel was life changing. I won't lie. I felt a connection with him unlike any I've ever felt with anyone else. We were like two broken shards of glass that somehow miraculously fit together.

However, although much about that night is wrapped in a withdrawal induced fog, I am aware that it wasn't the romantic evening my brain wants to make me believe it was. Yes, the way he smelled was real. The rough pads of his fingers brushing against my skin and the growl in his voice when he spoke were definitely real.

The way he truly listened to me and called me on my bullshit wasn't a delusion. The way he spent most of his night protecting me even before he walked into that room with Nic, all of that was real.

But it was also real that Gabriel wasn't stable. The dark look in his eyes before he killed wasn't something I made up. It was the same look he gave me numerous times throughout the night. Reminding me that I was going to be one of his victims.

Gabriel is a dangerous man. A beautiful one, but dangerous no less. No matter how good he's been to me, he and I would've never worked. This is as close of a relationship I can have with him.

"It was a good night," I admit, lifting my shoulder and dropping it lazily. "But no, I don't want anything more with him than what we have. I got the best thing I could out of that night, which is my son. I'm content with that."

I bring my mug up to my lips and take a sip feeling confident in my reply to her.

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. But I know that if Mr. Mysterious showed up at your doorstep tonight, you'd be popping that underused pussy for him by the morning."

I spit out my tea and snort. I swear this girl has no filter.

Rolling my eyes, I lean forward and place my drink back down. "First of all, my stuff is not underused."

"Your toys do not count," She chuckles taking a sip of her wine before continuing. "Speaking of…"

"Ugh," I groan lying my head on the back of the couch before looking back at the screen. "No Trina. No more blind dates. I still haven't recovered from the last one."

"I don't understand why you and Chris didn't work."

"Girl, he showed up to the date in a full face of makeup better than mine."

"First of all, that's not hard to do, your entire makeup collection is just mascara and lip-gloss. Secondly, Chris is metrosexual. He takes pride in the way he looks."

Shaking my head, I go on to explain. "Trina, Chris is gay. And the only person that doesn't seem to know that, is you."

"He is not."

"He told me. And even if he hadn't, I would have known when he gave the valet his phone number. He honestly thought you were playing a prank on him when you set up our date."

She looks completely shocked by this information, despite Chris explaining that he's never kept his sexuality from her. My friend can be a little self-absorbed sometimes.

"Hmm," She hums as if she still doesn't see it. "Well, this guy is definitely not gay, and I think you will like him."

I doubt it.

"He's a friend of James—"

"He's old?" I nearly shout.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "No, he's not old. He's only thirty-five, he has no kids, a PhD, and specializes in child psychology. He's also 6'2 with gorgeous brown eyes."

"I don't know. I feel like I should give the dating thing a break. With Gabe, school, and the jewelry, I have my hands full."

"No ma'am. We are not making excuses."

Sighing. I shake my head. "Why are you so hellbent on me dating."

Other than Shay, Trina has been on my ass about dating again. She never lets me go longer than two months without setting up a blind date of some kind.

"Because I want you happy."

"I am happy."

"Are you though?" She counters.

I don't reply as I think over her question. I mean what's not to be happy about? I'm clean, I have my son, my bills are paid, I'm about to finish school, and my business is doing great. What could possibly make me happier?

"She doesn't deserve love. She's incapable of loving."

Those fucking words pop up again.

Thankfully, Trina starts back speaking, bringing me out of my head.

"You know I was never the advocate for love and relationships, but I have to be honest with you. Finding James has shown me the importance of being with someone that loves and cherishes you. And I've never been a stingy bitch, so I want that for my bestie."

"Fine," I relent.

Trina claps her hands happily. "Great, I'll set it all up."

Although I knew this date wasn't going to end the way she wanted it to, I have to admit I was a bit intrigued. I wasn't against love, I just couldn't quite see it in my future. But maybe I'm wrong.

"I will also set us up a wax appointment before the date."

"For what?" I asked, my brow pinched. "He won't be seeing that anytime soon."

She narrows her gaze at me. "One can only hope."

I shake my head and laugh. Trina and I talk on the phone for an hour before calling it a night.