“Thank you. I’ll suggest all of those things to her,” Jacob said.

Quincy looked at Roni, still unable to believe she was there, and said, “Before the next person shares, when a new person joins the group, they usually introduce themselves. Would you like to tell the group your name?”

Roni sat up straighter, looking beautiful and nervous in a cream sweater and brown jacket, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. “Hi, I’m Roni. I’ve never used drugs, but the man I’m dating is two years into his recovery.”

Holy shit.

She fidgeted with her purse in her lap as their eyes met, and she said, “I’m just starting to read about and learn what recovery really means, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind about the possibility of him relapsing.”

Oh, baby, I know you are, and I will never let you down.

“But I trust him,” she said, holding his gaze. “And I want things to work.” She looked at the others, her eyes lingering on Simone for a moment. “So I’m here to learn, and I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay. Thank you,” Quincy said, his voice so thick with emotion, he was sure everyone else heard it too.

“Maybe you can talk to my wife,” Jacob joked.

As the others welcomed her, Quincy futilely tried to tamp down the hope consuming him. When their eyes met again, sending his pulse skyrocketing, he gave up trying to rein in anything and reveled in the fact that Roni believed in him, and she was there, making a big fucking effort for them.

RONI HAD BEEN so scared to walk into the meeting, she’d had to take a minute outside before entering. She hadn’t realized it until she’d sat down, but she’d assumed the people there would remind her of the people she’d grown up around, dirty and maybe even drugged out, which made no sense given that this was a meeting for people who were in recovery. But fear was a powerful thing, and it had strange effects on people’s minds.

Fear also did wonderful things, like plaguing Roni at the idea of not having a chance for something more with Quincy. She’d felt totally off-kilter these last few days, and she’d missed him desperately. Before they’d started seeing each other, going days without receiving a text from him had been difficult. But after getting to know him, after kissing him and being held by him, every day without that connection was pure torture. She hated knowing she’d caused Quincy angst while she figured out what to do, but she was glad she’d taken the time to think. The minute she’d spotted him across the room, all those tangles inside her had started to unfurl, and she’d felt like she could finally breathe again.

She’d quickly recognized the girl that she and Angela had seen at the bookstore and learned her name was Simone. As she listened to the stories of the people in the meeting, she was in awe of their honesty and fortitude to make it through the horrible situations they described. She didn’t like thinking about Quincy having been in any of those situations, but she needed to accept the truth and find ways to support him. As he ended the meeting, and they all stood up and held hands, saying the Serenity Prayer, she was even more in awe of Quincy. He’d put himself into every minute of the meeting, talking out situations thoughtfully and tactfully, giving guidance, hope, and strength, where so many other people—shamefully, her included until now—would turn away, maybe even run in the opposite direction, rather than offer a hand to pull these people across the rocky gorge between addiction and recovery.