I fly to Miami on a Monday. After a week of meetings, packing, and work, I leave my boys in the care of Janice and take off for Florida. On the plane I go over the files one more time, making sure I can answer any questions the guys might have regarding the deals. The flight is a little turbulent and sickens my stomach. While cleaning up in the bathroom, I look in the mirror. My hands are shaking and I’m a little pale. I should have gotten a prescription, but deep down I know I’m not just upset from the flight.

I’ve lost a lot of sleep the last few nights. I had nine days and seemed to have squandered them away, not feeling any less hurt than I did then. Screw Dex. I don’t owe him anything and he owes me nothing. We are back to being completely platonic. Just how we should have stayed all along.

I flash my pass and go backstage, finding Tommy near the backup amps on stage left. Hugging him, we don’t bother talking, since the band is performing, and neither of us wants to shout.

The set change and break happens after this song. As soon as it ends, the band hurries off stage, knowing they have ten minutes to do whatever they need to do—whether it’s use the bathroom, get a drink, or make a phone call. They run down the stairs that are near us. Each one of them smiles at me as they pass, except for Dex who eyes me but keeps walking. We follow them into the dressing room, Tommy shutting the door behind. Like a coach, he goes over what’s working and what didn’t, including one of Johnny’s guitars that broke a string while he was playing.

I try to give Dex his space by standing across the room. As much as I kind of want to reach out to him, I don’t. I’m conflicted over this whole mess we’ve found ourselves in and burned he picked someone else up so soon after our fight. Am I being unreasonable? I don’t even know. I’m a girl and sometimes reason takes a backseat to feelings. Sucks, but I’m not unique this way.

Without my eyes leaving my feet, I feel the weight of his gaze on me, a stare that caresses my curves, reminding me of where his hands once were. When I dare look over, the warmth I’m so used to seeing has left… what is there, I’m unfamiliar with, so I turn away.

“When’s the meeting?” Johnny asks me after he finishes drinking his water.

“Lunch tomorrow. My suite.”

He nods. “Let’s go.” They all stand up and Tommy opens the door.

Just as Dex passes, he whispers without looking, “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome.”

I don’t get any visitors tonight, stuck in my room alone. I chose not to go out with Kaz and Derrick. Tommy called it a night and went to bed as soon as we got back. Johnny was meeting friends for a late dinner and Dex disappeared. I have no idea what happened to him and I try not to spend my night guessing either. That could lead to disastrous thoughts of groupies and drugs. I’m not ready to go there right now, so I turn my attention to the fact that he’s made a huge impact on my life in such a short amount of time. When he spent time with Neil after the funeral. The way he ‘fixed’ CJ’s boo boo. When he looks at me like he can’t bear to lose me. All of these memories are little Band-aids on my heart. I sigh.

I just can’t seem to stop thinking about him despite my better judgment. I was unsuspecting, but not blind and yet, it feels like this man I’ve known forever came out of nowhere and swept me off my feet.

Maybe I’m being ridiculous or maybe he’s made a bigger mark on my heart than I originally thought. How much pain can one heart bear? Am I willing to take another beating? Is Dex worth it? The mystery that he’s laid out before me makes me wonder what he’s up to, which is driving me bizonkers. Why can’t I just get clear-cut answers? Why must it all be a guessing game when it comes to him? Why is he lying to me? Or is he telling the truth?

I turn on the TV and fall asleep after watching three Friends episodes in a row.

* * *

The next morning, I head downstairs to the coffee stand in the lobby. I’m waiting behind three other people desperately in need of caffeine like me. The one at the front can’t seem to figure out their cup sizes, so the barista is going through explaining and taking way too long to do so. I check my phone for the fourth time since I have the meeting in less than thirty minutes and at the snail’s rate of this line, I might not get my coffee. That doesn’t bode well for anybody.

“Can I buy you a cup of Joe?”

I recognize the smooth voice before I see him. Turning around, I say, “Make it a latte and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Dex doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t look unhappy to see me either. “You always liked your lattes. Mocha as usual?”

“Yep.” I find myself swaying between my anger from his actions and the traitorous side of me that wants to take his side and let him back in, just a little bit.

“Surprised you’re talking to me.”

“It was only a yep. Don’t get your hopes too high.” I roll my eyes.

“I’ll take one word over the silent treatment.”

When I look up, he has the most sincere smile on his face. He’s hard to resist. “Anyway, I thought you weren’t talking to me after our fight, so we’re even.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not get too deep. Haven’t had my first cup yet.”

He chuckles lightly. “Maybe later then.”

I shrug and looked toward the baked goods display. “Yeah, maybe later.”

A guy in line starts saying, “Dude… dude. Oh shit. Dude.”

I see him pointing at Dex and Dex instantly tenses, so I offer, “How about I buy you a coffee this time and I’ll see you at the meeting?”

“Deal.” He steps out of line quickly and hurries away before the fan can fully comprehend that he was standing next to greatness.

“Dude,” the guy says again, this time into his phone. “He was right in front of me…”

I finally reach the front of the line and order the coffees. I decide to buy a to-go container for the guys just in case they haven’t had any. When I reach my room, I struggle opening the door with my hands full, but Kaz shows up and helps.

We go inside and I situate the coffee in the living room portion of the suite near the couch. He settles in and closes his eyes. I let him rest. I know how touring tears you down physically, remembering the old days when I toured with Cory.

Everyone arrives on time, some not as happy with the ten o’clock meeting time, but it is what it is. And what it is, is business we must get done. I go over the proposals with them and they decide which ones to move forward on and which ones to eliminate.

As a group, they seem satisfied, so I am. When they leave, I start making calls and getting contracts sent over. I log onto the latest batch of paparazzi photos taken of the band members that their press agent sent over. It’s the usual boring stuff which I like to see. Nothing salacious. Nothing newsworthy in their personal lives. These are the kinds of pics that don’t get bought by tabloids or blogs.

But when I scroll to the fourth page, I see me—me and Chad Spears from our kind-of-sort-of date. Shit! My heart starts pounding and my hands start shaking while I reach for my phone. I immediately call Rory, the band’s public relations agent.

He picks up on the first ring. “I’ve been expecting this phone call.”

“Can you kill the pics?”

“Too late. They were sold to two sites last night. That’s when I found out about them.”

“Make them go away, Rory.” I beg, “Please.”

“Rochelle, you should have given me a heads up. I could have done something then, but now, it’s too late. I’m sorry. I can look into the story they’ll post with it and try to use some tactics to get them to go easy, but it’s Chad Spears. He sells magazines. He gets people clicking online. You being a widow of a famous musician and with him gets even more hits.”

“I can’t… These photos will upset people. Cory’s Mother for one.”

“And Dex.”

The way he says it so casually as if the whole world knows our secret makes me cringe. “What do you know about that?”

“Everything. That story of you kissing at the bar—another time you should have forewarned me.”

“I’m new to this. Cut me some slack.”

“Slacks been cut. Now it’s time to play hardball. I’m gonna send you an email that I usually send my clients when I first bring them on. It’s how to stay out of the headlines when you don’t want to make headlines. I suggest you memorize it if you don’t want the attention. If you do want it, I can help you out there as well, but I’ll need some forewarning next time.”

“I don’t want the attention. How much time do we have before this story comes out?”

“Less than twenty-four hours I would say, but probably closer to an hour. The online blogs are fast with this kind of news and it’s already a few days old.”

Looking out my room window, I stare at a nearby building that’s blocking the sun, casting a shadow over the hotel. Very ominous. Very fitting. I sigh, dropping my head down.

“Hey Rochelle, I’ll do my best,” he says, his voice sympathetic. “I’ve already got calls into them.”

“Thank you, Rory. I appreciate it.”

Shit! What have I done? I need to tell Dex before he hears about it.

A hard knock on the door foreshadows things to come. I stand slowly, the weight of a thousand waves pulling me back, begging me not to answer. I have to though. I peek through the peephole and my fears are confirmed. When I open the door, Dex walks in and straight for the window. His body is stiff as he paces back in forth. I remain standing near the door. “Hi,” I say, a fake happy tone failing me.

His eyes hit me like daggers when he asks, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Cowering a bit, I reply, “Not really.”

Turning his back on me, he nods and stares out the window. His voice is alarmingly calm like lava boiling at the base of a volcano. “I only asked you not to date one person.” When he looks at me again, he narrows his eyes and asks, “Do you remember who that one person was?”

It’s not a question and we both know it. “Chad Spears,” I answer begrudgingly.

“God damn it, Rochelle.” He closes his eyes as if he can calm himself by not seeing me. When he opens them again, he shakes his head. Instead of saying anything else, he comes toward me, closing the gap in a few long strides. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going and leaves the room. The disappointment I feel is abruptly halted as the door flies open before it has time to latch. His body is pressing against mine and he kisses me. I push back but he holds tightly to him. And just as fast as he kissed me, he stops. Brushing his lips against mine, he whispers, “That was the last time I will ever kiss you.”

And then he leaves me standing there breathless and agitated.