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Chapter 12

"What the hell is he doing back here?"

Marley and I were fortunate a few other cars joined us on what appeared to be a desolate stretch of road. She muttered under her breath while I rattled my brain for any clue about Quincy owning land in the area. Nothing came to mind, and the longer we traveled, the more the roadside signs grew further apart until we noticed one that read: Gunner Women's Correctional Facility. Turning abruptly, Quincy's SUV kicked up dust as it finally turned down a dirt road.

"I can't go back there." Marley drove beyond the last sighting of Quincy's vehicle, then pulled to a stop next to a corn field. She placed her car in park, then asked. "What the hell?"

"I don't know."

"Here." She attempted to return my phone.

I turned up my nose as I waved both the phone and her hand away. "Nope, not until you clean that."

Glancing at the screen, she confirmed. "There's no service out here in BFE anyway, and I need gas. We gotta get back to civilization. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." I lied. I was already spiraling and mad at myself for discovering something else that made me question Quincy.

"This was a mistake." She mumbled. "We just fucked up our weekend."

Determined not to let my imagination get the best of me, I shut down all the scenarios unfolding in my head. "No, we didn't. This is our time, and we are going to enjoy it."

"So nevermind stalking your man. We're just going to breeze back out of here like this never happened?"

"Why are we even still here? We have massages in what, two hours?"

"Fine with me." Marley's frowns of concern turned into creases of happiness as she made a dusty u-turn, zoomed back down the lonely highway and into a weekend I vowed not to ruin.

______________________________

Quincy didn't text or call for two entire days. It was only after arriving home did I realize how much that bothered me. We weren't on the best of terms when I left, he made a mystery run to Oz, then ghosted me for the weekend. I wanted to let it go, but I couldn't. I needed answers. Just as I braved my apprehension about dialing his number, my doorbell rang. With a full glass of wine in tow, I schlepped to the front door and swung it open.

"Welcome home."

I had to remind myself I was not so pleased with the handsome six foot, god of a Black man darkening my doorway. A delicious aroma of Sauvage wafted into my nostrils as he kissed me on the cheek, placed a dozen of the whitest roses I had ever seen in my life into my left hand, then eased inside, closing the door behind him.

"I missed you." He whispered as he backed me into a wall and tickled my soul with tender kisses along my jawline and neck. I dodged another set of kisses, spilling red wine onto my favorite rug as I slipped away. "What has gotten into you?"

"I missed you, a lot."

"No." I set down the flowers and wine glass. Wiping my hand on my jogging pants, I stared into his eyes. "You haven't even text me since last week. So, no you didn't miss me."

"Just because I didn't communicate didn't mean I wasn't thinking of you."

"Humph," was the best I could offer. I took a step back, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket while asking, "You sure it was me you were thinking about?"

"Of course. Who else would it be?"  He replied while making himself comfortable on my couch, then patted the empty space beside him.

Not feeling quite as jolly as Quincy about his declaration, I posted up on the opposite side of the room. But my hesitancy and distance did little to dampen his mood. "I have big plans for us tonight."

"Is that your version of an invitation?"

"It is, and I hope you're inclined to accept it."

I tossed my messy ponytail over my shoulder, then shifted in my seat. Marley told me to let the unanswered questions about Quincy's destination go, and I knew she was right. I had no clue what happened down that dirt road, and according to Marley, although it was interesting, it was also really none of our business. My heart knew she was right.

"Maybe I'll be more accepting after you tell me why you were on the same road as a women's prison while you were so busy thinking of me."

My mouth hadn't gotten that message.

"How did you–"

"We followed you."

"We?"

Damn, I completely glossed over my best friend's business relationship with my 007 of a man. His glare pierced my soul, but it was too late to turn back. "Yeah, you pulled out in front of us on our way out of town."

"And?"

"And I made Marley follow you into the middle of what I thought was no damn where until you disappeared beneath a cloud of dust."

"It would have been easier to call and ask what you wanted to know."

My nose scrunched at the memory of my phone surrounded by Marley's boob sweat. "That wasn't possible. So, I'll ask now. Why did you sneak off to a women's prison this weekend?"

My interrogation finally corrupted the "happy" virus plaguing Quincy.

"When are you going to stop searching for reasons not to trust me."

"I, I... I trust you."

Laced with disappointment, his expression let me know that he knew my stuttered response was bogus. Thankfully, his watch pinged. But I didn't expect him to stand and begin to stroll to the door.

"I have to meet Priya, so."

"So, you're just leaving without answering my question."

"I have to go, but we can talk about this later, over dinner."

"No, Quincy, I'm not joining you for dinner. Either we talk about this now, or we don't talk at all."

I swear I could hear the muscles of his heart ripping, but I was no longer willing to give him grace without answers. His watch pinged again. This time, he responded. "On my way."

"So, that's it then, the end of this conversation."

"What more would you like to say, Dana."

Growing enraged as his hand gripped the door knob, I shouted behind his back. "Nothing."

The creak of it opening pissed me off even more. He was really leaving. This time I shouted, "I don't need you, Quincy."

His dispirited response was a simple. "Okay."

"You're not as important to me as you think you are."

"Okay."

Livid, his nonchalance released my emotional talons, and I decided to drop a bombshell. "Since it's so "okay," then maybe we don't need to see one another any more."

"That's what you want?"

"I said it didn't I."

"Well." He sighed. "Okay."

Seriously?

"Fuck you, Quincy." I screamed before racing behind him and slamming the door. As he drove off, I stood there, steaming. He didn't even put up a fight. Was I not worth fighting for? An hour later, me and my sixth glass of wine texted him:

Do you really think you're all that?

Calm down, Dana

You think I'm going to sweat you?

How much have you had to drink?

Enough to let you know I can live with or without you.

Okay.

There he was with that okay bullshit again. What is wrong with you?

I love you.

But you'll be "okay" without me.

No, but you spoke your piece, and I respect it like I respect you.

You're so fucking weird.

Maybe it was the wine, but that damn laughing emoji got under my skin. I gotta go.

I love you, Dana.

I didn't even bother to respond. Asshhole.

________________________________

"I can't get over how he just blew me off."

"Telling you he loves you after you gave him your whole ass to kiss is not blowing you off, psycho."

"Michael would've stayed. He would have fought for us, for me."

"And fighting for love is supposed to be a good thing?"

"It should be."

Marley winced, then smiled as she asked. "You love that man, don't you."

"Yeah, whatever."

"And we're going to leave that Micheal kind of love in the past, right?  Focus on what's in front of you?"

"How, when Quincy acts as though I can be his entire world, or in a split second he can forget I ever existed."

"You've always equated love to drama. It doesn't have to be a rabid beast to be real, Dana. I know what you had with Michael, but Quincy is different. His love is calm, and bitch you need calm. Give yourself permission to fucking relax for once. Let yourself enjoy the solitude this man brings into your life. And for fucks sake, stop giving him hell."

"So, you want me to pretend that shady dirt road shit was no big deal."

Marley shifted her position, then responded. "I've worked with Quincy for a while now, and he's strange on occasion, but never shady. Whatever he was doing on Mars must've been for a good reason. Without a doubt, I know he loves the hell out of your crazy ass, so I don't believe he would do anything to hurt you. Truth be told, Dana, it's you. As much as you want love, you're sabotaging every opportunity to have it because you're terrified that what happened with Michael will happen again."

My head dropped and my shoulders followed.

"Do you honestly believe that as much as he adored you, Michael wouldn't want you to be happy?"

I covered my face, fell into her lap, then wept as I muttered. "I'm dangling, Marley. Between guilt and fear, I'm hanging on for dear life."

"Why?

"Because if I don't let go, I can't fall."

Rubbing my hair, Marley provided solace.

"Oh, baby, I get it. I really do, but that isn't how life works. As long as you're breathing, it won't allow you to stay stuck. Quincy entered your life because he was supposed to, because love didn't die with Michael. It was always going to find you again, and whether you allow it to be Quincy or anyone else, it's never going away."

I lay in my best friend's hospital bed, more at risk of not healing than she was. Daniel scared the hell out of me when he called, just after Quincy left. He was hysterical, shouting into my ear that Marley had passed out, that she was bleeding profusely. I rushed to the hospital not knowing what I would find. I couldn't lose her too. The moment she was stable following her emergency surgery, and was cleared to be sent to a room, I bogarted my way past her husband and mother in law and collapsed with shouts and moans of grief next to her bed. When she woke, she cussed me for embarrassing her moment of demise with, according to her,  my "ghetto ass funeral theatrics," then asked me where Quincy was. An hour later, grimacing with pain, she comforted me more than she worried about herself.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah." I sniffled.

"Good, now get your ass up, you're pressing on my stitches."

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