Free Tappin' On Thirty by Candice Dow Page B

laughed. “Taylor, don’t miss your blessing. You better start praying, too.”
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œYou better recognize the power of prayer.”
    â€œAll right, Daddy Junior.”
    â€œWhatever, I’m on my way to Bible Study. I was just calling to see if you want me to add you to our prayer circle.”
    I snapped, “Turi, I’m not a charity case. I don’t need y’all praying for me to find a man.”
    â€œA husband, Taylor. We’re not praying for you to just find a man.”
    I laughed. “I don’t believe y’all.”
    â€œContrary to what you believe, we love you.”
    â€œI never said y’all didn’t love me. I know you love me.”
    â€œSo does Toni.”
    â€œYeah okay, Mother Theresa.” I chuckled. “I guess that’s why you’re the one who was called into the ministry.”
    She laughed. “Yeah, cause my big sisters are crazy.”
    â€œForget you.”
    Just as I was pressing the END button, my phone beeped. Assuming it was Courtney, I didn’t bother checking the caller ID. I clicked over and said, “Hey.”
    â€œHey. It’s Scooter.”
    Oh shit. My heart dropped. I looked at the cloudy sky. Powerful was an understatement, prayer was the bomb! Before I could respond to his greeting, I mouthed, “Thank you, Jesus.”
    Then I took a silent deep breath and cleared my throat. “Hey Scooter. What’s up?”
    He immediately began to spit excuses as to why he hadn’t called. “I’ve been under a rock since I got back from Maryland. They have me working like a slave.”
    Just as I was tempted to roll my eyes, I thought about the Angel that called to forewarn me that my blessing was coming. I responded pleasantly, “Yeah, I know how it is. I’ve been working a lot lately too.”
    He sighed. “Plus . . .” He paused.
    My mouth hung open, waiting for him to crush me. When it didn’t come out fast enough, I snapped, “Plus what?”
    â€œIt’s kind of hard to call you when, you know . . .”
    I knew what he was saying, but I refused to accept it until he explicitly verbalized it. I huffed, “No. I don’t know.”
    Without hesitation, he said, “When my girl is around.”
    Again, my bottom lip dangled from my face. As all my blood shot to my head, my right foot was left without enough energy to press the gas pedal. Going about forty mph, cars zoomed past me. I crawled into the right lane. Maybe I should surrender. If a man claims his woman like that, nine times out of ten, he has no plans to leave her. I absorbed feelings of defeat. Then, I confidently asked what I was afraid to ask when we spent the night together, “So, it’s like that?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI mean, are you two like always together?”
    He seemed hesitant, but he said it, and I wanted to faint as I swerved off on the Ardmore/Ardwick Exit. “We live together.”
    As I slowed to stop at the red light, I finally released the breath that I was unconsciously imprisoning in my lungs. What was Plan B? How could I move in on a chick that he slept with every night?
    Despite all of those people praying for him to be my husband, I decided to throw in the towel. As Scooter went on to explain how tied at the hip he was with his girlfriend, my decision became much easier.
    â€œPlus, she’s a resident at Yale, too.”
    Not only did they live together, they worked together. It was clear that Operation Sneaky Devil was over. With disappointment dribbling from my lips, I pretended to sound friendly and unfazed. “Oh. That must be nice.”
    â€œNot really.”
    Though I was awfully tempted, I didn’t feed into his downplay of his obviously troubled relationship. “Yeah, I’m sure it could be stressful, but all relationships are stressful.” I quickly switched topics before he gave me an excuse