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Maybe I was doomed to be single forever, which was fine. I didn’t want to depend on anyone for my happiness. Perhaps this was the stark lesson I had to learn to move forward.

“Been here a few times on business,” Bruno said, rolling down the window. The sun still shone at seven in the evening, and the air had cooled a bit, but the humidity sucked. The frizz probably made my brown hair look like a bird’s nest that had been tossed around by a tornado. I reached up and released the hair band, letting my hair tumble.

“How about Taco Haven? I heard great things about it,” Nate said. “It has spacious outdoor seating and the temps have gone down, so it should be nice for us.”

I’d also worked with Nate twice before. Though he had a girlfriend at home, that never stopped him from flirting or hooking up with strangers during his travels. It wasn’t my place to intervene in his business, and I didn’t know any of the female models he’d been with. Now, if one of those women had been my friend, then his balls would have been bruised. Just saying.

Some men viewed women as accessories. I was no damn belt or watch that could be bought.

Keep your heart safe. Don’t give it out too easily.

When things seemed easy, people didn’t see their value.

Despite my values, there had been one event that took me on a winding path I wasn’t familiar with. One detour I vowed to never embark on again. I wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. It was too risky and made me feel . . . unworthy and out of place. Yet I forgot about that when I hooked up withhim. The powerful attraction made me lose my sense of logic. Because it wasn’t with a stranger, the aftermath became awkward. At least for me it did. The onslaught of embarrassment and confusion was too much for me.

I didn’t know if he had a girlfriend, and I’d been foolish, letting my wild hormones decide instead of thinking things through.

From that day on, I had set hard rules for myself again. One, no more one-night stands. Two, aim for an honest long-term relationship. Three, focus on my dreams without worrying about the money factor. Four, be happy.

Simple, right? Nope.

I liked rules. They provided structure, but they were difficult to adhere to.

When I’d made that list, I also sent a wish out to the sky that night: I wanted to be happy with a man who valued and loved me. I’d waited for a shooting star to confirm, but it never showed up. One day soon.

The rules I had in college were too pliable, too unsubstantial. But I’d been young and clueless. When I got my fashion photography job, the glamor of it mesmerized me. I’d dated businessmen and stunning models, but like the glamor, the initial spark faded over time, and the ugly truth revealed itself.

Women had to look out for each other. Being the “other woman” was like being an accessory that was easily replaced. My mom had been one, and it hurt her. She said I was the gift that came from her temporary relationship, and she didn’t have any regrets. But I often wondered if that was the truth.

Don’t get me wrong—my mom loved me, and I loved her. Still, I wondered if she wished she’d never met the bastard. My father was a good-for-nothing sorry excuse for a man. To love someone only to be tossed aside without remorse cut deeply. I’d seen her cry when I was younger. That stayed with me, and I hated him even though I’d never met him.

In some way, I was repeating the same mistakes as my mother: dating men who didn’t value me. I had to break this generational trauma. The men I’d been with were to fill a void caused by something I didn’t quite understand. Perhaps women needed a sense of belonging and fell for anything that seemed to offer that security.

But no more. Kiera Ford was done expecting a man to make her happy. I didn’t want to depend on anyone. I didn’t want that pain or disappointment, so keeping my distance in relationships was my technique. Though I wanted a long-term relationship, I was terrified of it. Where did that leave me? Nowhere. I had no place to stand.

Stop being so negative.

Nate blasted the music louder as he rolled down his windows.

I checked my phone to see how my mom was doing. I told her to text or call whenever she needed anything. No text appeared, so I sent her a message.

Hope you’re doing well. The scenery is spectacular here. Rest up. Love you.

She was probably sleeping because of all the medications she was taking. The news of my mom’s illnesses pulled the rug from under my feet. Two years ago, she contracted Hepatitis B, a liver disease, from an accidental needle stick at work. She was a nurse, and these kinds of accidents occurred no matter how careful she was. The weak liver made her tired all the time. Mom used to have a full head of hair; now she feared she’d go bald. She couldn’t take walks around the neighborhood like she used to because of the muscle pains. My mom and I used to get our nails done together. But now, she was too tired.

Though she was suffering, she never complained about anything. I admired her strength and resilience. She believed that she’d get well one day soon and did her best to stay positive.

Last year, she was diagnosed with the inflammatory muscle disease known as dermatomyositis. There was no cure for it, so the doctor had been prescribing her various medications to ease her muscle pain.

Mom’s illnesses made me realize that life was too short. I had to get my life together. To do that, I had to know what I wanted. And what I wanted was to live a fulfilling life—to be happy. We had planned on taking a mother and daughter trip around the world, and I prayed she’d get well enough for that to come true. I didn’t want to think about the alternative. It would devastate both of us.

Out of habit, I checked my email and saw a new message from her doctor, and my heart sank.

Kiera,

I wanted to update you regarding our conversation about the new medication that could help your mom. I spoke with a team of doctors working on a special prototype for Hepatitis B and dermatomyositis. Of course, like any new medications still in the works, the insurance company won’t cover an experimental treatment.

I’m sorry I don’t have better news. If you’re still interested in treating your mom with the cutting-edge medication, please let me know. I’d reserve a place for her. We can try it in increments, perhaps every three months instead of every month. There are also payment plans to help you if you choose this path.