The three of them released commiserating groans.

“My ten-year reunion was a nightmare,” Samiah said.

“I used my move to Austin as an excuse to skip mine,” Taylor said.

“Well, this makes fifteen years for me, and there is no skipping it. That’s what I get for being class president.”

“When is the reunion?” Samiah asked.

“Thankfully, it’s still a few months away.” London shoved her hands in her hair and fluffed out her mangled curls. “I hate this shit. The only reason I started dating Craig is because I didn’t want to show up alone. I did that for both the five- and ten-year reunions.” She choked out an incredulous laugh. “You’d think this whole pediatric surgeon thing I have going on would make up for being single, but not with that crew.”

Samiah knew that song all too well. Whenever she went back home to Houston, the talk quickly shifted from her career to her relationship status. It was nauseating. And infuriating.

“You know you can rent a date, right?” Taylor asked as she gathered her braids in one hand and wrapped a purple scrunchie around them. “And not just from Craigslist.” She gasped, her eyes widening. “I’ll never be able to go on that website again after last night.”

“Taylor’s right,” Samiah said. “Why don’t you just go with one of those escort services?”

“I kind of wanted it to be real, you know? A fake relationship with a Rent-A-Date guy sounds like something from a supersweet Hallmark movie.”

“That’s only if you two end up married with two-point-five kids and a basset hound named Molly.”

Samiah grinned at Taylor’s quip. Her sense of humor beat the hell out of Craig’s.

“If I took an escort to my class reunion, I’d spend the entire night worrying about whether or not we’d get found out. I’d rather go alone than deal with that kind of anxiety.” Her resigned sigh struck a familiar chord. “What’s a little judgment from people you only see once every five years, right?”

“I get what you’re saying, but to be honest, why do you even care?” Samiah asked. She looked from one woman to the other as her question began to resonate in her head. “Why do any of us care? So what if I’m not dating the perfect guy? Who says everything on my checklist needs to get checked off?”

“You have a checklist?” One of London’s perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. “Do tell.”

“Everyone has a checklist. And mine is almost complete.” She ticked items off on her fingers. “I’ve got the fancy downtown condo I always wanted. I have a fabulous job in my field. I still expect at least a few promotions in the near future, but to say I’ve only been with my company for three years, I’ve done pretty well for myself.”