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Before Icould answer, my stomach rolled at the site of the wine. I pushed it towardher. “I think I’ll stick with just water for now.”

She raisedan eyebrow. “Really?”

“I think Igot hit with a bug. I had to pull over on the way here to throw up.” It madethe drive even longer, but I didn’t want to throw up in my car. I wasn’t surewhat was going on but just the idea of tasting the wine on my tongue, made mystomach churn.

The driveto my mother’s took way longer than it should have but I texted Sammy as soonas I pulled into her driveway and put the car in park.

Hisresponse hadn’t been something I expected but found that I craved just thesame.

Sammy:Be a good girl.

Every inchof me vibrated at those words because we both knew that I wasn’t a good girl.Not when it was just me and him anyway.

Shelaughed. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

My eyesshot to my mother’s. “Right.”

“So, tellme about him.” She took a sip of her wine. “Please.”

“He’s goodto me. Takes care of me. The first time with him, he went to the pharmacy andbought me pain meds and feminine products the next morning.” I almost swoonedat the memory of Sammy doing that for me.

“Really?”Mom stared at me. “God, I remember how hard it was for you to get Aaron to dothat for you. While you were sick in bed, he wouldn’t do shit.” She shook herhead. “I lost so much respect for him the first time he did that and then aftereverything else...”

“I know.” Itook a long swig of my water, needing something to wet my suddenly parchedthroat.

“This guyis a biker too? That’s what Shawnee said.”

“Yeah, buthe’s different than Aaron. I sometimes have to pinch myself that he wants to bewith me. Not that we’ve put a label on this yet but it’s nice. It’s comfortablewith him. I can be myself and not have to worry that he’ll blow up if I questionhim on something or tell him that I don’t want to do...stuff.” She knew aboutthe rape with Aaron and everything else that had happened to me, but it wasstill hard to talk about. Especially when I had pushed both her and Shawneeaway during my time with my late husband, but I now understood it was anabusive nature in him. He was beyond controlling and I never realized it at thetime.

“Does hehave any kids or crazy exes?” Meaning, did he come with baggage.

“No, hedoesn’t.” But as I said those words, I had never actually asked him, and henever volunteered the information either.

“Keeptalking. I’m going to make us some sandwiches,” she said, rising from her chairand heading into the kitchen.

“Okay, whatmore do you want to know?” I asked, opening up my phone to send Sammy a text.

Me: Doyou have any kids or crazy exes? My mom is asking, and I told her no, but Irealized that I’ve never asked you either.

The dotsstarted dancing across the screen almost immediately.

Sammy:No, pet. I don’t have either of those things. It’s just me and me alone.

Me:Thank God.

Sammy:Do you?

Me: No.

Sammy:What about Will?

My stomachclenched.

Me: Hedoesn’t count.

Sammy:He counts until he’s dead and buried.

My heartjumped.