A/N: Hi guys, still writing when I can.

Thanks for reading!

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 67: Madea

Friday 17th March 2017, 3.07pm, Heartland General Hospital, Manhattan Island

Zoe was startled by the brown hands lifting her premature baby out of the incubator. She'd seen enough stories about that, when she was up late watching Lifetime. Abducted: The Carolina White story. Or was it Carla? "What are you doing?" She snapped at the nurse.

"Bringing her to you. It's about time you had some skin-to-skin contact; since you're not nursing."

Zoe detected a slight Jamaican lilt to her tone. Her name was Doreen, at least that's what her name tag said. "Oh. How'd you know I'm not nursing?"

Doreen smiled, observing the sainty manicured hands of a woman who didn't wash dishes. "I read your file…and Baby Girl Morgan doesn't have a name yet."

"I'm still thinking about it."

"No rush. I'm thinking about 30 minutes. Chair or bed?" Doreen asked, to a blank face.

It wasn't that Zoe didn't understand her, it was just more than she was prepared for. "Does the chair recline?" Doreen shook her head. "Okay, the bed then. And by skin-to-skin you mean…"

"Your chest to her chest. It'll help her thermoregulate."

"And by that you mean…"

9.14pm, Rope-a-Dope Boxing Gym, Manhattan, New York

Joss was so used to the same-old-same-old it didn't surprise her when her black sedan was missing from her parking spot. The dark grey escalade and its flashing lights was obviously her new ride and its driver had been avoiding the inevitable with work all week. "Crack, John? Crack?" She exclaimed before her seatbelt was even secure.

He was as blasé about the contraband as she expected, which ticked her off even more. Noguerra's office was empty, because its entire contents were removed for a search. She hadn't seen him since the sniffer dog hung him out to dry. 'Administrative leave' is what they called it. "That should keep him busy." John surmised, taking a hard left.

"Busy?"

"You wanted him out of your hair."

"Yes, but-"

"And now he's out of your hair. Problem solved."

"You don't get it. John." She groaned, as he was over the line and couldn't – or refused to – see it.

"I get it perfectly. And I'm not sorry. Love means hating the people who hate the people you love. Screwing over the people who screwed over the people you love. Gut punching the people who gut punched the pe-"

"Enough with Madea's logic."

"Who's Madea?" He asked with genuine ignorance.

"John."

"Really, who's Madea? Anyway, love also means letting me eat this cheese steak sandwich in peace, unless you want some?"

She sighed in the same way she would for about fifteen years. "No, you eat it." 'Cause love means not choking your husband.

"Not even the steak?"

9.54pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

It didn't take long for karma to bite Evelyn where it hurt – right in her four-layer coconut cake. By her calculations a third of the six-inch unfinished masterpiece was gone, neatly sliced away, leaving few crumbs behind. "Gregory!" She called in distress, as if he wasn't used to her melodrama.

"Oh. I didn't tell you?" He asked, seeing the steam rising off her skin. "Taylor dropped by while you were at the Book Club. Bella had to babysit so she couldn't come. I thought, what a waste-"

"Gregory." She growled through gritted teeth at her thwarted efforts and he tried not to laugh.

"They're not getting back together, Ev. At least not right now. He doesn't a girlfriend in New Jersey and Bella isn't the kind of girl to leave an Ivy League school to make someone else happy. I think we should leave them be. Let them be friends."

"But…I like her for him." She protested.

He decided to throw her a bone. "If it makes you feel any better they're together right now."

She beamed. "So it's a date."

"It's spoken word and-"

"Taylor hates spoken word." She finished his sentence with disappointment. "Why can't they just do what I tell them?"

"I don't know." He lied, to spare her feelings.

Saturday 18th March 2017, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan

Joss knew that look anywhere. It was the same look she wore at his age, years before she perfected her poker face. It was one of unshakeable curiosity, seventy-seven questions bubbling beneath the surface. It wouldn't go away on its own and probably kept him up at night. Funnily enough it was the thing that made her a detective, and her son an investigator. "Virginia on your mind?" She asked, as they sat at the kitchen island waiting for John to return with breakfast. It was still strange to see Taylor dri`nking coffee that wasn't 80% milk. He nodded. "What'd you wanna know?"

"What was she like?"

She could only be Nicole, the grandma he couldn't remember, the one he was named after. "I didn't know her that well; she was nice to me, quiet…umm…gentle."

"You always do that." He said, referring to her censorship. It was getting old, or maybe he was.

"Tay, some of your questions don't have answers. You're probably wondering why Jeremy's so mean, what kind of woman could've stayed with him for so long, what Leanne's deal is, and why Dad and I got together in the first place."

"Pretty much."

She tried to answer. "I don't know who or what made Jeremy the way he is and I don't know what kept Nicole around for so long if it wasn't fear…" She waited for him to say something but he didn't. "Leanne thinks her life would've been different if Paul was still on a leash – but he's not a dog." Taylor smiled at the image. "And as for us; we were kids who got in too deep 'cause it felt right at the time. Kinda like you and Zahra. I thought if I knew him better I'd understand. I don't know if I ever did..it it ever made sense. Tay, sometimes what feels like the right thing at the time isn't. We were too young to see what was ahead of us."

Taylor felt short-changed again; the answers were pointing back at himself. "Is that it?"

"I think so."

"You barely said anything."

She laughed to herself. "I tried to warn you…"