But it was their thing.

So who was anyone to judge?

I couldn’t say I was happy that my biker and his friends who were now my friends were possibly in danger.

I could say that I knew down to my gut they not only could take care of themselves, they wouldn’t do anything stupid to put themselves in jeopardy. What was happening with this bad guy wasn’t about that. They weren’t about that. And they wouldn’t put their loved ones through that.

So I had to trust, and I’d spent a decade trusting the wrong man so I’d learned.

This time, I had it right. I knew that down to my gut too.

Feeling content in this, having sorted it out in my head, I quit brushing, spit, rinsed, and moved to my man. I shoved close, forcing him away from the counter, and went in.

He kissed the mark he gave me.

I kissed the mark he gave himself, touching my lips to the joker card.

Then I tipped my head back and whispered, “I’ll go pour the coffee.”

He kept brushing but his eyes, already warm at my touch, got soft.

I allowed myself time to take that in before I moved away to get my man and me some coffee.

* * *

At my first coffee break at work, I was no longer feeling content.

This was because we’d had a slow morning and Sharon, me, and the other cashiers had a chance to gab.

I’d shared I was seeing someone and was meeting his friends that night.

They were ecstatic for me (they all didn’t know everything about Aaron, but they all knew he was a jerk).

Then Sharon asked me what I was wearing.

And I instantly started to panic, because meeting your man’s friends did not say tube top or clingy T-shirt dress or tank with cool sequins.

Especially when one of them lived in assisted living!

And I had nothing postpregnancy weight that would do.

Not one thing.

So I had to form a plan, which I did.

And now I was in the break room with phone in hand and it was ringing in my ear.

“Yo, girlie, what’s shakin’?” Elvira asked in my ear as greeting.

“Panic stations!” I cried.

“Uh… what?”

“I’m meeting Joker’s friends tonight,” I told her on a rush. “Not, like, biker friends. Like, the woman who looked after him when he was a kid and his dad was off carousing and left him home alone without dinner. And when I say kid, I mean, he was eight.”

“Yikes,” she muttered.

“Also the guy who gave him a good man in his life, seeing as he didn’t have one, is going to be there too. And his family!”

“Lordy, Carissa, this shit’s big.” Elvira told me something I already knew.

“I know, and I have nothing to wear.”