Quincy helped her into the truck, looking at her like she’d hung the moon, and said, “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you read up on restraining orders, given the way you’ve read everything you can get your hands on about recovery. Simone said she feels more protected now than ever before. She’s playing it off like she’s more afraid he’ll come after the Dark Knights instead of her.”

Panic rose in Roni’s chest. “Will he? What about you? Are you in danger because you’re her sponsor?”

“No, babe. I told you that, and there’s no way in hell he’d go after the club, either. Simone is doing what she has to in order to stay strong enough to make it from one day to the next. She’s trying to make herself feel safer. It’s a natural coping mechanism. That’s why I’m checking on her more often, to make sure she doesn’t backslide. Which reminds me, we made plans to meet at the shelter Sunday early afternoon.”

She breathed a little easier. “I’m glad you’re checking on Simone. I worry about her. I don’t know how you can see the people at the meetings and not want to keep tabs on all of them.”

“It’s not a matter of not wanting to. They have to want to stay clean more than they want drugs. I’m not their savior. I’m there to give hope, to make sure the discussions move smoothly, and provide an environment conducive to recovery. To Simone, I’m a mentor, the person on the other end of her rope who’s there to listen, to impart what I’ve learned through NA, and to help her find her way. I’m here for her, but the only person who can save Simone is Simone.” He smiled and said, “Now, my sweet, sexy love, it’s time for your surprise.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

QUINCY WAS SO damn happy with their decision for Roni to move in, it almost quelled his nervousness about the surprise he had in store for her after dinner.

The streets of Peaceful Harbor were decorated for the holidays, with twinkling lights along the main drag. When he pulled into the parking lot of Dimitri’s, a cozy Mediterranean restaurant overlooking the harbor, Roni’s jaw dropped, her eyes glittering with awe. The restaurant was built to look like a Mediterranean home, with stucco walls, a clay-barrel roof, arched openings surrounding a patio with wrought-iron railings, and a double-arched entrance, which was lined with festive lights.

“Quincy, we can’t afford this place.”

He parked, so damned happy she said we. “Tonight’s a special night and we can afford it. We went months texting and not going on a single date. I have a nest egg of date money with your name on it. I may not earn six figures, but I make enough to treat you to an occasional spectacular night. And one day, when I’m done with school, we’ll make enough so we can rent a little house with a yard for our puppy and bedrooms for our future babies, and I’ll be able to take you to fancy places more often.”