Happy Sunday! You know what that means, yes? EXTRA updates today :)

"You don't have to do that." I shake my head, feeling annoyed.

"If I didn't want to do that for you, I wouldn't suggest. I'm an honest person like that." She cocks her head to the side. I see the screen of her phone light up on the desk and decide to try to change the subject.

"How are your dogs?" I ask, watching her face light up.

"Oh, they're terrific! They are really warming up to each other now, sleeping side by side on my bed. There is barely any room left for me now," she chuckles.

"Maybe I want to get a dog." I smile, thinking about less lonely nights and someone to come home to.

"That's a big decision. You think you're ready for that?" She asks, clearly doubting me. I don't really blame her, she's got every right to doubt me after what happened.

"Yeah, I don't know. You're right. My place is too small, anyway." I shrug.

"I'm glad you're telling me about recent events, Isabella. But I asked how you were. So, how are you?"

"Okay. I think." I say, not sure what to tell her.

"No cravings?"

I think back to earlier today, to my heart pounding and Masen and his lips on mine.

"I — cravings." I stammer, tears burning, stinging. "Yeah. I have them. All kinds of cravings, to be honest."

"I see. Can you tell me about them?"

"There's this guy I met — my sponsor. I went to an AA meeting, and he volunteered. But I can't help but feel this attraction to him. Something I have never felt before." I feel a little shy, but Esme smiles.

"AA? That's progress. Good. So a guy? Hot guy?" She arches a brow.

"Very hot. Very arrogant and confident, and he's kind of an ass." I snort and roll my eyes.

"He's a challenge then?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're not locking yourself up, Isabella. But I want you to focus on yourself and do not cater to anyone in order to please them. You need to learn to love yourself before you can love anyone else, if that makes sense." Esme gets a little textbook with me now and I don't like it. It's like she doesn't want to speak her mind. Like she's afraid to.

"I'm not in love with him, Esme. I barely know him. It's purely physical. I can't even have a decent conversation with him."

"I don't mean to imply you're in love. Not at all, but I know from experience such infatuation can only go two ways. Bad and really fucking bad."

Esme's smile vanishes. She stares at the notepad in front of her, and I see her contemplating her next statement.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I say, wishing this hour was already over.