The Reinvention of the Rose - Christina C. Jones Page 0,53

your ass?”

“Tristan could never get sick of this ass,” she giggled. “His new bitch didn’t want him around me. That’s so sad. To not be enough to keep a man, so you’ve gotta worry about him with other women.”

Andrea had flipped the dryer on while Nya was talking, but switched it back off to laugh. “Um… obviously if he has a “new bitch” you couldn’t keep him either, so…”

“Nah I’ve moved on,” Nya stammered. “We were just friends… with benefits, of course. But that girl is so crazy insecure, and jealous of me.”

Okay.

Now that was my last fucking straw.

“Girl jealous of what, exactly?” I snapped, and Andrea’s mouth dropped open as I turned to face Nya in the chair. “There is not shit about you or your sad ass existence to envy, and I really wish you’d stop it.”

Nya smirked, but had enough good sense to ease back. “You’re talking shit like I didn’t have you shook about your man.”

“You didn’t have me “shook” about a thing where Tristan is concerned. I took my issue with him to him. And I took my issue with you, to you. Do I need to remind you what my hands feel like around your neck, bitch?”

“I’d rather remember Tristan’s.”

“And that’s all it’ll ever be for you – a memory,” I shot back.

“If you were so sure of that, you wouldn’t have been bothered by us being friends. Like I said – insecure.”

I shrugged. “You call it insecurity, I call it a demand that the boundaries of our relationship are well-defined and respected. Either way, you’re looking like a fucking fool, arguing with a woman who cares nothing about you over a man who doesn’t want you. Only one of us is going out sad in this situation, dear,” I smiled, then turned back to Andrea. “Can we…?”

“Of course,” Andrea chirped, beaming. “Let’s get you together with a fresh style for your man to fuck up.”

If Nya had anything else to say, I didn’t hear it.

Really.

I tuned her completely out, losing myself in the hum of the dryer and my own thoughts – beating myself up for responding to her bullshit at all.

It was another thing I was losing – the discipline.

Getting provoked by words?

Never.

Not before.

Between everything – good and bad – with Tristan, these interactions with Kiara and other people in the neighborhood, this thing with Nya… shit.

I’d never been so reactionary and emotional and… human.

I stopped beating myself up over it when I thought about it like that.

For better or worse, this was what I’d wanted.

And really… it wasn’t so bad.

I scheduled a follow-up with Andrea in two weeks and then went on my way, stopping by Urban Grind for my brown sugar cinnamon iced latte first. I’d given myself the lofty goal of opening the shop in the next few weeks, so I had candles and labels to make.

As I was standing in line for my drink, I glanced out the window to look across the street. To my surprise, there was a woman standing there, peering up at the Wax Poetic logo, and then into the store. It didn’t seem like a big deal, so I went about my business, but once I’d gotten my drink and was headed out, the woman was still there.

That was a little strange.

My phone started ringing, so I pulled it out, smiling when I saw Dacia’s name on the screen. Besides the fact that being on the phone was a great cover, I hadn’t actually spoken to her in a while.

“Hello?” I answered, my eyes still on the stranger in front of my shop as I crossed the street.

“Hey, where are you?” Dacia asked, on the other end of the line, her voice creating a weird echo… that didn’t seem so weird at all when the “stranger” finally turned so I could see her profile.

“Dosh!” I yelled, my outburst startling her for a moment until she turned to see me rushing in her direction. I ended the call, dropping the phone into my pocket as I opted to hug her in real life instead of bothering with the phone. “What are you doing here?!”

She laughed, hugging me back with the same excited energy I’d given her. “I just… needed a change of scenery, and I wanted to see the shop, and wanted to see you. So here I am.”

Yes, indeed, she was.

Looking so much healthier than the last time I saw her.

There wasn’t a rose among us who’d escaped the Garden with no trauma,