"Ladies and gentlemen, the queen is in the building!"

The front lobby of Lyon Dynasty filled with cheers as Cookie, Malcolm and Hakeem entered the building. While Cookie stood out in the lobby, soaking up the applause and cheers that her return had caused, Tierney Pearson was chatting Cookie up as if she hadn't withdrawn $8,492.97 from the rainy day account just 40 minutes ago. How would big, bad-ass Cookie Lyon feel knowing that while she was out on sick leave, three of her employees were trying to rob her blind?

Anika was the head of the finance officers, which merely made her the head snitch in charge. That person reported to the chief financial officer – in the case, the one who was stealing from Dynasty. All Anika could do was grit her teeth and remain hypervigilant for the sake of her job. It could never get back to Cookie that even a dime was out of place while she was away. Anika didn't catch the last transaction fast enough, and there was nothing Anika could do but swallow it and replace the money from her own savings. Even though Anika had grown up with money and $8,500 didn't exactly break her bank, Anika couldn't afford Cookie being gone for much longer.

It wasn't just about way more than money. At Empire, Anika would know exactly what to do – gather the activity logs, take them to Lucious and watch as those who needed to get got, got got. Here, Anika was the stranger in hostile territory holding a position that any undergraduate business student could've done. If Anika reported to Cookie that people were trying to rob her, Cookie would just take that as a sign that Anika didn't belong. She had to prove herself.

Anika knew that her reappearance at Lyon Dynasty had more to do with Hakeem's love for her, not Anika's financial acumen. "If Anika had been here, none of this shit would've happened!" she heard Hakeem screaming at his mother over the telephone one day. Anika thought Hakeem was talking about the death of the Cookout that day, but it turned out to be a lot deeper than that. What Hakeem meant was that had Anika never been fired from Dynasty, she would've done due diligence, asked the questions, and informed Cookie that permit money was to be paid to Parks and Recreation, not some guy named Big Heavy.

Upon returning to Dynasty, Cookie stuck Anika in a broom closet at the end of the hall, which was just fine with Anika. Their interactions were minimal. Anika's boss was the budget. The numbers were what made her happy. Slowly, slowly, Anika found money, made money, saved money. She was surprised when Cookie brought in somebody else as Dynasty's Chief Financial Officer – Anika had always just thought of herself as the CFO by default – but she told herself that she care that Tierney got all the glory, just as long as Anika had the numbers.

And Hakeem. She had Hakeem, too. Anika attributed a lot of Hakeem's post-kidnapping behavior to Cookie's ex-boyfriend and the ordeal with the 125th Street Bulls. Hakeem clung to her, pushed her away, disrespected her, begged for her back. He got on Vine and told the world he was single. Got on the 'gram and told everyone that he loved Anika Calhoun. Freaked out when she found out she was pregnant, then cried almost as hard as she did when she miscarried in her 13th week of pregnancy. The most bizarre moment of the past few months was when Hakeem called Anika from a bathroom, sobbing because he'd just smoked something that was messing with his head. Her number was the only number that Hakeem remembered and could she please come get him? Just this one time?

Whatever Anika and Hakeem had – and it was impossible to figure out exactly what the hell that was - was working for them. They were grown. They weren't hurting anybody. Oddly, nobody had a problem with it except Cookie. Even Lucious had written her off as a typical tramp, which was fine as long as Lucious wasn't messing with Anika's man or Anika's money. One day, Hakeem flat out told Cookie that he wasn't about to choose between his girlfriend and his mother. Either they could learn to co-exist, or Cookie could simply be mad. Cookie had chosen the latter. Like with the CFO issue, Anika told herself that she didn't care, but she did. She truly did.

One of the advantages of being down the hall was that Anika could hear Cookie's loud ass stomping up the hall from a mile away. It also allowed for a bit of privacy when Hakeem came looking for her, which was often. Despite Cookie's loud, shrill protests, Hakeem never made it a secret that Anika was his girl. It was one of the sources of Anika's biggest grief – none of the other financial officers respected her. Never mind that Anika had helped put Empire on the map for nearly six years, or that she had a master's degree from Columbia, or that she worked as a certified accountant during graduate school. They just knew she had slept her way back into Dynasty. It was hard to hold her head up sometimes.

Then again, it was hard not to when Hakeem strode through her door, walking as if he was 10 feet tall and calling her my lady. "So you got Malcolm on board, huh?" Anika asked, not swatting him away as she usually would have. On days like this, she could use a little affection.

"Yeah, I got him…ol' slick ass." Hakeem began to snicker.

"What's so funny?" Hakeem's snickering morphed into something between a giggle and snort. "What happened?"

"Malcolm…him and Cookie…" It was all Hakeem managed to get out before he started laughing. Through hand motions and choked words, Anika got the gist of what Hakeem had walked into. Anika tried not to laugh – Cookie was her boss, after all – but Hakeem's laughter was infectious. Soon, they were both cracking up.

"So Cookie's finally out of bed, huh? How much longer is she going to be out?"

"Not sure. I know the medication is making her sick. She hasn't been taking it. But," Hakeem added as pulled Anika close while she tried not to cry, "She's finally out of bed thanks to your cooking. How much more of that soup you got at home?"

"I don't. You have to eat island food fresh. It's not really the leftovers type."

"Well, damn." Hakeem frowned. "I don't know what we're gonna do, then. Your food is the only food I've seen her eat since she's been off work."

"Really?" Finally, they'd touched on something that Cookie actually appreciated about Anika.

"Yeah, really. So…" Hakeem gave Anika his most charming smile. "Maybe if you could cook my mom up some more food-"

Was this boy serious? "If Cookie wants more food, all she has to do is ask for it." Anika bristled under the idea that on top of making sure Cookie wasn't being robbed, she was also supposed to be her short-order cook. "She knows where I work."

"C'mon, Anika," Hakeem wheedled. "You know she's not going to ask."

"And why is that?"

"Because she's trflin' as hell. See? See?" Hakeem pointed at Anika's smile, because God knew what Hakeem was saying about his mother was true. "It doesn't even have to be anything all that complicated. I just need my mom to be out of bed. I bet she can't take her medication on an empty stomach and that's why she's so sick. Just more soup, maybe? She loves the soup."

"Cookie can't just live off soup for days on end, you know."

"So you'll fix some more stuff, right?"

"Well…"

A firm knock on Anika's doorway drew their attention. "Hello, Anika." Malcolm remembered Anika putting drops in Elle Dallas's drink on the night of the investor concert. He'd immediately reported it to Lucious, who was furious about what happened until he found out Anika did it. But if Cookie had let it be – and so had Elle, as she was now a Dynasty artist and Anika's face was still intact – then he wouldn't be the one to bring it all back up.

"Hi, Malcolm." It was hard being before the man who caught her drugging Elle Dallas, but he just smiled and kissed her cheek anyway. "You're going to be here for a while?"

"For a couple of weeks, at least," Hakeem said, making no effort to extract himself from Anika, despite the look on his mother's face. "Hey, Cookie," Anika said pointedly. She'd be damned if she was going to be disrespected in front of her boyfriend.

"Hey."

Anika waited for Cookie to give some sort of thanks – or at least acknowledgement – of the food Anika had cooked so that she'd feel better. Why Anika was waiting for such a watershed moment, she had no idea. Frowning at his mother, Hakeem picked up the reins. "I was just telling Anika how much better you feel now that she's had some home cooking," he prompted.

Cookie just nodded, and Anika felt her spine losing its steel. God, she wished Cookie would just leave so she could get back to work. It was good enough to know that Hakeem disapproved of Cookie's lack of grace. Malcolm looked equally displeased, much to Anika's petty delight. "You're taking your medication on a full stomach, right?" Anika pressed, enjoying Cookie's discomfort. "I know your meds probably has to be taken on a full stomach, whatever you're taking…"

"I don't remember what it's called," Cookie said truthfully. "Dexa…disa…"

"Doxycycline," Anika and Malcolm said together – Anika as a question, Malcolm as a statement.

Cookie froze. She looked over at Malcolm, who had the damndest look on his face. He knew. He knew. Of course he knew. He was Malcolm fucking DeVeaux, knower of every goddamned fucking thing. And if Malcolm knew, then certainly Anika – the doctor's daughter – also knew what was going on. Cookie ducked her head as her eyes filled with tears in the silence that followed. They knew she had a disease. How nasty she was. How stupid she was. They knew.

"I remember when I had to take Doxy in college," Anika mused aloud. "Horrible stuff."

"You took it?" Cookie always assumed that Anika was busting it open throughout her boarding school days, but she didn't expect her to admit it so openly.

"For my skin," Anika clarified. "Doxy's used for all kinds of stuff. It's just a regular antibiotic. As long as you take it exactly the way the prescription is written up, your stomach virus should clear up in no time."

As Cookie contemplated such news, Malcolm shot Anika a raised eyebrow. What Cookie and Hakeem didn't know – and what Anika and Malcolm did know – was that doxycycline fought bacteria, not viruses. There was only one reason why a woman Cookie's age would need to take such a medication in such a dose that it would make her leave work for so long. But for whatever reason, Anika had thrown Cookie a lifeline without her even knowing it.

"She's supposed to take it three times a day," Malcolm informed Anika. "And I haven't seen her take it even once since I got here."

"Ohhhh. That's no good." Anika nearly had a nervous breakdown on the spot. At this rate, Anika would be pimping herself to old white lesbians again to make up for the missing money.

"I can't take all of it," Cookie protested feebly. "It makes me sick."

"But eating Anika's cooking makes you feel better, right?" Hakeem prompted.

"Yeah. It does." Cookie looked over at Anika, whose eyes were fixed intently on a bauble on her desk. "Thank you." Three heads snapped in Cookie's direction. "I haven't been able to keep anything down for a week," she confessed. "I…I appreciate it."

While Malcolm and Hakeem looked around to see if Hell had frozen over, Anika just nodded. She wanted to say something encouraging, or at least ask her if there was anything else she could do, but it would've been uncomfortable for them both. "Cookie, if you don't take the exact dosage – preferably at the exact time – you can Doxy take it for 10 years and it won't clear up a thing. You have to get to a doctor as soon as you can."

"I'll get it squared away, Anika," Malcolm promised. He winked at her, and Anika smiled back. Hakeem scowled. So did Cookie. "Aren't you supposed to be going back to work in a couple of days?" she asked pointedly.

"I can't build a security system from my house, Cookie."

"So what, you think you're gonna just crash at my house for two weeks?"

"Did you see my bags on your doorstep?" Malcolm asked tersely.

Ah, shit. Now it was Anika and Hakeem exchanging looks. "Malcolm," Hakeem spoke up, "if you could stay with my mom for these next couple of weeks, I'd really appreciate it. You know she's not gonna take the medication unless you're standing over her."

"I can take care of myself!" Cookie's voice rose. "Well, I can!" she insisted as Hakeem, Anika and Malcolm all exchanged why-the-fuck-she-lyin looks.

"Anika, can you keep her fed for the next couple of weeks?" Malcolm asked. "I'll make sure she's taking her medication with food."

"Sure." Anika sounded even less thrilled about feeding Cookie than Malcolm was about being her nurse. But Anika would've flown Cookie to Cayman and back if it made her better quicker.

"Well, then. That's settled." Malcolm addressed Cookie at last. "Cookie, call your doctor and tell him you need the first appointment available. We'll go from there."

Cookie glared at Malcolm, but wordlessly stomped off to do her biding. "Impressive," Anika admired. Cookie might have been able to twist Lucious around her finger, but Malcolm DeVeaux wasn't Lucious Lyon. Then the familiar beep-beep filled the air, and Anika bit her lip. "Sorry, guys. I'll get that."

"So you gonna take care of my mama?" Hakeem asked as Anika went to check her email. He didn't really know how he felt about that. On one hand, Hakeem didn't like Malcolm bossing Cookie around the way he just did. On the other hand…

"Somebody has to," Malcolm said wryly, and Hakeem relaxed a little. If nothing else, he knew that Malcolm would take his job seriously. And if he got a little nookie from Cookie on the side, that was their business. Still…ew. "Maybe you shouldn't use your key so much these next couple of weeks," Malcolm suggested, reading Hakeem's mind. "At least, not after 4:00."

"Oh, my God," Hakeem muttered, and Malcolm just laughed as Cookie came back in. "Well?"

"Somebody canceled on Dr. Patterson today," Cookie said coldly. "I got an appointment at 4:30 if we can make it."

"We can make it," Malcolm assured her. "Guys, we'll see you later."

Before they left, Anika turned her attention back to the crowd. "Malcolm?" Anika said, and her voice sounded almost like she was far away. "Is there anything in your security plans that are going to address?" she asked without thinking. "Like computer breaches?"

"That kind of software isn't really in my wheelhouse," Malcolm answered. "But that's something I can ask around about it. Why, you having a breach or something?"

Not anymore. "Just wondering." She didn't look Malcolm in the eye when she said it. As she knew better than anybody, it was Malcolm's job to study things.

"Lori Holloway?"

Cookie went by her government name when she didn't want to be known, and God knew she didn't want to be known right now. "Hello, Ms. Holloway," the attending nurse greeted. "You and your husband can come this way."

Before Cookie could correct the nurse, Malcolm stood. "Thank you."

Cookie was too tired to argue, and she said little as Malcolm shook hands with the doctor and explained to him that they were coming by because he was concerned that Cookie hadn't been taking her medication properly and still wasn't feeling very well. You black motherfucker, she cursed in her head as she gave short, clipped answers to Dr. Patterson's questions, occasionally prompted by Malcolm. Malcolm wasn't kidding when he said he was going to make sure Cookie was going to be okay, and she kind of hated him for it.

When Dr. Patterson handed her a gown and told her that he wanted to take another sample of her vaginal discharge, Malcolm's facial expression didn't change. Cookie, on the other hand, could've died. "You want me to text you when I'm done in here or are you waiting in the lobby?" she asked when the doctor left, swallowing back tears. She couldn't even look Malcolm in the eye.

"The lobby?" Malcolm asked. "For what? I've already seen you naked."

"Malcolm." Cookie was on the verge of crying. He had seen her naked, under much better circumstances. "Get out." She sure as hell couldn't undress in front of him. She had a pantyliner on, for God's sake. Dr. Patterson didn't even need to put her in stirrups – she could've just handed him her underwear. "I need to change."

"Is that any way to treat your husband?" Malcolm asked, pretending to be hurt. "You wound me, Mrs. DeVeaux."

"Malcolm!" Hot tears began to sting Cookie's eyes. Without thinking, she hurled the gown at Malcolm. Malcolm deflected the throw, but the gown still hit him full in the face. Cookie was half a second away from throwing her underwear at him, too. "You need to get out," Cookie ordered. "Now."

Malcolm looked down at the gown Cookie had thrown at him and tossed it on the bench. "I'll be in the lobby."

"I'll catch a cab back," Cookie said, embarrassed by her behavior, her situation, and just about everything else.

Malcolm sighed loudly. "Fine," he said over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you later." Or not.

Cookie waited until she was sure Malcolm was gone before her tears started to fall. Her eyes were dry again by the time Dr. Patterson came back, but fresh tears formed when she laid back with her feet in stirrups and Dr. Patterson began to poke and prod. Anika had been right. The damage was no worse than it had been, but there was no improvement, either. "Ms. Holloway, do you realize how serious this is?" he asked sternly. "How much time we've lost?" Cookie had always hated being fussed at, even if she knew it was for her own good.

Dr. Patterson had said nothing unkind to her, but Cookie hands trembled as she got dressed. The idea of surgery terrified her. And a hysterectomy? God, why had she let this happen? And with Laz, of all people? She would've been less insulted had she gotten STDs from Lucious. At least she knew Lucious wasn't shit. But Laz…it wasn't just what he'd done to Cookie, but to Hakeem, too. No matter what, Cookie knew that she could never live it down.

After seemed like forever, a soft knock on the door cut into her thoughts. "Come in." She was dressed again.

Dr. Patterson came back in, and – just as Cookie expected – Malcolm came in behind him. They both listened as the doctor discussed Cookie's additional medications - levofloxacin and metronidazole, along with the already nauseating doxycycline – and what times she was supposed to take them. Dr. Patterson was talking more to Cookie's "husband" than Cookie, who was so stunned that she was practically in a daze. More medication. More dosages. She couldn't even handle what she was supposed to take now.

When Malcolm called her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Dr. Patterson just asked if you had any questions," Malcolm promoted.

Cookie hadn't heard a thing. "Uh-uh. I got it."

Dr. Patterson smiled and patted Cookie's knee. "I'm sorry if I made it sound worse than it is. It's not as bad as it seems. You just have to make sure that you're taking the meds exactly as I prescribed them. You've got a good man looking out for you, so everything will be okay."

"We'll do it right this time," Malcolm promised, smiling sweetly at Cookie. "Won't we, Lori?"

"Go to hell, Malcolm," Cookie muttered, and she fumed as the men laughed.

Dr. Patterson sent the prescriptions over to Cookie's pharmacy before she left the doctor's office, and they were ready by the time Malcolm drove Cookie to the pharmacy's drive-thru, still in silence. What a difference it was from the last time they'd been in Malcolm's truck together, laughing and singing, kissing between every light, holding hands almost the entire time both to and from the Berkshires. On the way back, they'd been making plans to meet her sister, Carol, that very day. Within hours, he would be gone from her life forever, or so Cookie thought. Now he was back in her life just as randomly, and Cookie wasn't sure how to feel about it.

The ride back from the pharmacy to Cookie's place was just as quiet, so Cookie was surprised when Malcolm turned off his truck, got out, helped Cookie out and followed her into the house. While Cookie warmed up some more of Anika's soup and bread, Malcolm sat on the couch where she'd felt so happy and peaceful not too long ago. "I wasn't going to burn you, Malcolm," Cookie finally said as she moved around the kitchen. Her sexually transmitted diseases were a hell of a dinner topic, but it wasn't like Malcolm didn't know everything anyway. "I would never do that. You know I wouldn't do that to you."

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" Malcolm asked, not really sure why he was so pissed, deep down. "Or were you just going to have a three-week long menstrual cycle?"

"What was I supposed to tell you?" Cookie asked, her eyes fixed on the rolls she was warming up. "That my coochie's goin' drip, drop, drip-drippity-drop?"

Malcolm said nothing for so long that Cookie looked up from the bread. "That's…" Malcolm shook his head and smiled. Cookie was going to be Cookie, no matter what. "You are such a fucking lady, Cookie Lyon."

It was all he could managed before he slumped over, looking so much like her youngest son as he shook with laughter. "Shut up, punk ass!" Cookie hurled a roll from across the room, taking satisfaction at the explosion of bread against Malcolm's face, dusting Malcolm's hair with zucchini crumbs. Malcolm's head jerked up, and Cookie recognized the look in his eye, the one that flashed across his face a couple of times when they were up in the Berkshires and Cookie's hands got a little too loose, as they tended to do. Oh, shit…

Even in pain, Cookie was quick. But Malcolm was quicker, and Cookie couldn't make it past him. Malcolm easily intercepted Cookie between the kitchen and the bedroom, and he slung over his shoulder, putting him at eye level with Cookie's ass. "What-did I-tell-you-about-that-shit?!" Cookie screamed with laughter as Malcolm emphasized each word with a firm smack on Cookie's butt. "Okay-okay-okay!" she squealed as Malcolm tossed her on the couch. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"That's better." Malcolm put one knee to Cookie's side and braced himself over her body. "Kiss me. And stop being so mean."

Cookie reached up for him, bringing Malcolm down on top of her. "I'm sorry," she said, dusting the crumbs from Malcolm's closely cropped hair. Good Lord, she hated his haircut. "About everything. I am, Malcolm. I wish…if I could…"

Malcolm sat up and pulled Cookie into his arms. "You don't have anything to be sorry about. These things happen."

"What, you've had an STD before?"

"Me?" Malcolm blurted. "Hell, no. I always use condoms."

Cookie swatted at Malcolm with a couch pillow. "Thanks a lot."

"Well…" Malcolm followed Cookie into the kitchen. "Cookie, just so you know. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. And if you don't, I won't ask." It sounded like the right thing to say, though Malcolm wasn't really sure if he meant it.

"Thanks." Cookie knew that Malcolm didn't mean it. He was trying to mean it, but he really didn't want to know what happened. And that fine. Cookie never wanted to talk about Laz again. Not ever. She didn't even want to think about it.

Over soup, bread, and Anika's delicious cassava cake, Cookie brought Malcolm up to speed on Dynasty business, while Malcolm regaled her with tales of life in D.C. As they were finishing up their meal, the doorbell rang. "You expecting somebody?" Malcolm asked.

"Other than my boyfriend, no," Cookie teased.

"Sheeeeeit," Malcolm snarled, and Cookie laughed as she looked through the peephole. "It's Hakeem," she announced. She opened the door and embraced her youngest son. "Is that some more food?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Hakeem handed his mother a pair of bags. "More soup, and some kind of casserole-lasagna kind of thing. It's real good. And there's some pudding kind of stuff – I think it's for breakfast." He nodded at Malcolm. "S'up, bruh."

"I see you learned how to use a doorbell," Malcolm observed.

"It's almost six," Hakeem replied. Ew.

While Cookie checked out the new Caribbean cuisine, a loud, annoying beeping noise filled the air. "What's that?" Cookie asked.

Malcolm reached across the table and picked up his cell phone. "It's 6:00. Time for your meds, Cookie."

"You are kidding me, Malcolm," Cookie knew that Malcolm was going to make sure she was eating and taking her medication, but this was just ridiculous.

Hakeem laughed. "That's right, Malcolm. Keep her in line."

"Traitor!" Cookie swatted at Hakeem, but he dodged it easily. "When does she take her meds?" Hakeem asked. "Just in case you aren't around."

"One when she wakes up in the morning, one after dinner and one before she goes to bed." Malcolm handed Cookie a small glass of water and a levofloxacin pill.

"So what, you're coming over here three times a day just to make sure Ma takes her medication?" Hakeem asked under his breath.

Malcolm shrugged. "If it comes to that. I got a hotel room," he answered, which was no answer at all. Malcolm would lose money on the hotel reservation he had if Cookie didn't plan on him staying, but he wasn't about to just invite himself over just because they were kicking it again.

When Cookie nearly choked on the tablet she'd swallowed, Hakeem and Malcolm knew where Malcolm would be sleeping for the next two weeks. "Oh, God!" Cookie gasped. The bitter taste coated her tongue and throat, and her eyes were beginning to burn. Malcolm grabbed a Jolly Rancher from a dish on Cookie's coffee table. "Here, baby."

Gratefully, Cookie popped the candy in her mouth. "Thanks." She shuddered deeply. "Cake. I need cake."

"Let me see what's in that bag." Anika had really gone all out. Later, Hakeem would tell Malcolm that Anika had taken the afternoon off to cook for Cookie so that she would have fresh food for the next couple of days. A blood-born daughter couldn't have been more loyal to Cookie. "Try this, Cookie. It's a lot lighter than cake." He spooned a bite of a creamy smoothie-like dessert in her mouth. "It's called guava fool. Makes for a good bre…"

Malcolm shook his head as Cookie snatched the entire plastic bowl out of his hands. Why did he even bother? "That's stuff's not going to make it to the morning," Malcolm said, shaking his head.

"I'll ask Anika to make some more," Hakeem absent-mindedly.

Malcolm looked over at Hakeem. "Tonight?"

"Yeah." Hakeem tried to be casual about it, but Malcolm could see otherwise. A young kid in love with a woman – a grown woman - that his mother hated. At least Anika made a helluva cassava cake. Maybe that would be enough to win Cookie over.

Cookie never thought there could be anything worse than doxycycline. Just two episodes into a Game of Thrones marathon, Cookie saw that she was wrong. "Will you please just take a walk for 20 minutes or something?" Cookie begged Malcolm through her closed bathroom door. "Please!" Thank God she'd had the wherewithal to make a mad dash for the guest bathroom, not her master bathroom. Otherwise, Cookie wouldn't be able to sleep in her bedroom for a week.

Even though Malcolm though Cookie was being ridiculous, he obliged, though he was gone for exactly 20 minutes and didn't leave the driveway since Cookie's door was still unlocked. When Malcolm came back inside, he found Cookie in her bathrobe on the couch, fresh from the shower. Soft and sweet-smelling, his ebony Ivory girl. "You alright?"

"I'm fine." Cookie wasn't fine, though. The short time alone in the bathroom and the shower allowed Cookie to think. Cookie still had to take the doxycycline before she went to bed. Two weeks of all of this stuff, minimum. And if she didn't, the consequences could be lifelong. And all over a piece of shit like Laz Delgado.

Before Cookie knew it, she was crying again. Cookie knew she wasn't a victim, and that this wasn't a punishment from God. A consequence, yes, but not a punishment. Still, it didn't stop Cookie from feeling devastated and hurt and betrayed – not just because of the PID, but of the circumstances surrounding it all. What had happened to Hakeem was still the worst of it all, but Cookie always thought potentially losing her money and her label was the second worst thing. It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Malcolm had a feeling that this latest crying jag wasn't really about Cookie being sick, but about something deeper. Something underlying. He had no idea what to do about it, though. What Malcolm did know was that any moment now, Cookie was going to start masking her pain with anger or rage. "Let's go to bed, Cookie," Malcolm suggested, unable to think of anything else to make things better.

It was only 8:15, but Cookie couldn't have thought of a better place to be right about then. "Where you stayin'?" she asked Malcolm.

"Depends on you."

"Where's your stuff?"

"In my truck. I came straight from the airport here. I haven't even seen my hotel room."

So Malcolm hadn't expected to stay with Cookie after all. He'd made other plans. Spent his own money. And even with everything that was going on with Cookie's body – and everything that would not be going on with Cookie's body - Malcolm was still willing with be with her for the next couple of weeks. He didn't pump her for information about her finances. He didn't run with a gang or beat up innocents. He was good to her sons. He also just said that he had a hotel room."You wanna leave?" Cookie asked.

Malcolm smiled, remembering that long-ago day in Cookie's office when she asked that question. "You want me to?" he countered, throwing back the same answer he'd given back then.

He was already backing her into the bedroom when Cookie answered. "No."

TBC