Page 82 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I let her sit in silence with her response, and she released a breath, turned her palm beneath mine, and linked our fingers.

“I haven’t introduced Malik to many men.”

“How many?”

“One.”

My chest warmed.

“His father?”

“No. Malik already knew him. I mean one man I dated.”

“And what happened?”

“He met Malik twice. The first time, he acted like everything was fine. The second time, he suggested we spend more time at his house because mine was…” Her fingers shifted against mine. “Complicated.”

I kept my attention on the road.

“Did he explain what he meant by that?”

“Malik’s equipment and his schedule were hard to digest. The fact that I couldn’t leave him with just anybody whenever this man wanted to see me was a problem for him.” Her voice remained even, but the resentment beneath it had survived whatever time had passed. “Apparently, he thought meeting Malik would prove I had exaggerated how much care he needed.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him my life wasn’t complicated. It simply required more than he could give. Then I ended it.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Her head turned. “Proud?”

“He showed you who he was before you invested more time in him, and you deaded it. Good girl.”

She blushed and my thumb moved across the back of Frankie’s hand. “I’m not him.”

“I know.”

“So, you don’t have to worry, although I know you will anyway. And I’m fine with that. Malik is precious and the most important person in your life. That’s the way it should be.”

She looked down at our joined hands.

“Thanks for saying that. You know, I wouldn’t be taking you to meet Malik if I thought you would be like him.”

I squeezed her fingers. The navigation directed me onto a quiet residential street lined with brick homes, mature trees, and closely trimmed lawns. Dry leaves had gathered along the curbs. A child rode a bicycle in a driveway while his father washed a silver SUV nearby.

Frankie straightened in her seat.

“That’s Mama’s house. The one with the red door.”

A concrete ramp ran beside the front steps of the single-story home. Pots of yellow flowers sat along the porch, and a wooden sign near the door read Love Lives Here in white lettering.

I pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. Frankie remained seated and I released her hand long enough to remove my seat belt.

“Did you can change your mind?”

Her eyes moved to mine. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”