I find myself staring at Dex throughout lunch. He catches me several times and winks, but doesn’t seem to mind. I think he actually likes when I watch him.

After lunch, the boys are given the run of the house and take off before he even finishes his sentence. He leans forward on his elbows, the two of us alone outside. That’s when I feel it, just like the night before when I was on the phone with him—a little fluttering in my stomach. I stand, taking my glass of water with me, and walk to the edge of the cement patio. “How long have you lived here?”

“Six years,” his reply is relaxed, much like him.

I can tell he’s watching me now. When I check, my suspicion is verified. “It’s very homey. I like it here.”

“I like you being here.” Sitting down across from him again, I look at him, searching for signs of anything that will give me the answers I need. As soon as I look away, he says, “I didn’t have sex with her.”

My head jolts back in his direction, the flutters replaced with dread. I tuck my hands under my legs to keep from revealing how this conversation really affects me.

“I feel like shit for lying to you, Rochelle.”

“Why would you lie about it? It makes no sense why you would hurt me like that?”

His gaze drifts away and he swallows hard.

I stand, not able to contain my emotions over this anymore. Walking toward the pool, I stop and yell, “I opened my heart to you. And you hurt me, Dex!”

He follows me and even though I want to back away, needing the space, I stay. My conflicting heart spiting me. He stops a few feet away and stares into my eyes. Keeping his voice low, he says, “Let me heal you.”

The racing starts, the flutters back, but my rational side takes charge. “I can’t. I can’t let you back in.”

“You already have. You just won’t admit it. I’m in there,” he says, glancing to my heart, then back up. “I’m in there and I refuse to leave.”

It’s my turn to gulp heavily, touched by his words. “Why did you lie to me?”

“To protect you. I may be in your life, but it doesn’t mean I deserve to be.”

“I don’t know how to respond when you say things like that.”

“I don’t need words.”

“Then tell me what you need. What do you want from me?”

“Everything.”

My breath catches as we stare into each other’s eyes. He’s serious. He’s impossible. He makes me want to give him more than I should. “You want too much from me.” Looking down, I shake my head, needing to stand my ground. “I can’t give you everything. I don’t know how to be enough for you.”

“You’re enough. I found that out the hard way.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Actually, I found out the hard way. You knew what you were doing when you brought her back here. I’m the one who was blindsided.”

“I’m a cliché, Rochelle. I never claimed otherwise.”

“You fall back on the perceptions, then complain that no one sees the real person behind the façade. You can’t have it both ways.” I walk to a nearby chaise and sit, needing the support under such a heavy conversation.

“See?” he says, smiling. “You know me better than anyone. After the letters, you also know more than I’ve ever shared with another person.” He comes and sits next to me. “But what you fail to realize is you’re the only person that I want to see the real me. And for you, I’d do anything. So when you told me I wasn’t good enough, you’re right, I wasn’t… and I wanted to prove that by fucking Firenza.”

“And?” I glance down, then back up.

“And I discovered that you were in here.” He says, touching his chest briefly. “You weren’t a fantasy anymore. You had managed to take the one real thing I had left—”

“So you couldn’t fuck her because you might lo—”

“Yep, I like you, more than you’re ready to hear right now. So we’re gonna take this round slower again.”

Surprised by his arrogant assumption, I sit upright. “Who says there’s going to be another round?”

His fingers take hold of my chin, keeping my face focused on his. “I do.”

Backing away, I snap, “That’s either extremely romantic like in the movies or totally creepy. I haven’t decided yet. Anyway…” I shrug, trying to regain control of the situation. “…You leave in two days.”

“We can get into a lot of trouble in two days.” Now he shrugs, instigating me by acting like it’s not big deal. “You know, if you’re up for some fun and stuff. I don’t know. Maybe you can’t handle fun anymore.”

With a challenging eyebrow raised, I say, “I’m not falling for your ploy, Mr. Caggiano. I’m not dumb and I thought we were going to slow this round way down?”

“Friends who get into trouble together don’t go slow. They set their own pace. Speaking of trouble, Spears was all over the news.”

“I wasn’t going to bring him up, but yeah, I heard about the broken leg.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I might have had the same thought.” He stands before me and offers me two hands. When I take them, I whisper, “What are we doing, Dex?”

He gently nudges me and smiles. “Hanging out, pretending we can go slow when all I want to do is go fast with you.”

Falling for his boyish charms, I nod. “Me too, but let’s settle on medium for now.”

“Medium it is.”

The alarm on my phone chimes, the magic that was returning gone in a flash as reality sets back in. With a heavy sigh, I say, “I need to go. I have a couple of calls and a lot of work to do this afternoon.”

His shoulders drop just a little, but I notice, the disappointment apparent though his voice hides it. “I have some errands to do.” He starts walking and I go inside with him.

I shut the back door and say, “I wish I could stay. I like when we’re this way.”

The right side of his mouth lifts, a slight crinkling on the outside of his eyes reveal his inner emotion. “I like when we’re this way too.” Taking my hand in his, he brings it up and kisses the underside of my wrist. His lips smooth and purposeful as his eyes lock onto mine.

The boys come running through the kitchen, circling us, then back out, but he still has my wrist to his mouth, savoring it. My heart is too weak to be broken again so soon, so I ask, “How many times do we do this before we accept the truth?”

He lowers my hand, but holds onto it. “As many as it takes.”

That’s when I know we aren’t over. But for the safety of my heart, the business, and until I figure out this game of life I’m playing, we need slow bordering on medium.

Walking into the living room, he says, “Guess you need to get going. I’ll help wrangle the boys.”

I stand there a moment longer watching him walk away and smile at him. His heart connected to mine once again. “Thanks.”

* * *

Later in the night, just as I climb into bed, my phone rings. My smile is probably heard over the phone and I’m too tired to hide it. “Hello.”

“Good evening, Rochelle,” Dex says, his own voice smooth and seductive with a light playful undertone.

If I wasn’t smiling already… “How are you?”

“Really good. And you?”

The casual chitchat makes me happy. “Oh, you know, busy but good.”

“You’re busy right now?”

“No,” I reply, “I just got into bed after a busy day.”

His voice gets deeper and I hear him settling down. “I like the thought of you doing that.”

“The having a busy day part or climbing into bed?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Take a ride with me. Up the coast.”

My lips part and a silent gasp chokes my immediate response. “Dex…”

“As friends,” he adds.

I’m pathetic and give in way too easily, wanting to see him more than I’ve convinced myself otherwise. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow evening.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Rochelle.”

“Goodnight, Dex. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.”

The pause makes us both laugh. Knowing we have plans makes it easier to hang up though. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

It feels a lot like I’m getting dressed for a date. Beth has preached to me several times this afternoon that, in fact, two friends can hang out together without it getting too deep… or sexual. I’m not fully convinced, but I’m willing to try again. Because he’s easy on the eyes. Oh wait, damn it. Okay, I’m not convinced at all that two people who have great sexual chemistry can remain only friends.

I kiss the kids goodnight and say goodbye to Beth just as Dex calls me to meet him outside. After closing the front door behind me, my mouth drops open when I see him. “Oh good lord!” Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. This is gonna be impossible with him looking so damn sexy in his leather jacket and old jeans, tight T-shirt, and motorcycle. What? Rushing forward, I stumble over my words, “What? How? Where’d you get her?”

With two motorcycle helmets in his hands, Dex straddles the bike with a big ole smirk on his face. “Wanna go for a ride, sweetheart?”

“Hell yes, I do.” I go through the gate, making sure to set the alarm before shutting the door. I take a helmet and put it on. After securing my license and credit card in my pocket, I zip up my jacket. “I’m ready.”

I start to swing my leg over the back, but he stops me. “You’re driving.”

Lowering my leg back down, I look at him incredulously. “Really?” I ask, hopeful.

“Really. You were once a badass on a bike. Show me that girl again.”

“I like your version of trouble.”

“Good because I have more where that came from.”

“I’m counting on it.” I get on and he settles in the seat behind me, then wraps his arms around my middle just as I rev the bike. When we take off, I realize I’d forgotten how exhilarating riding a motorcycle can be. Also, how scary. I’m rusty as I try to balance better.

Gaining speed, a feeling of freedom takes over. It’s a similar high I imagine runner’s get when they hit their stride—a feeling of invincibility, power, and liberation from your worries. On a bike, I only have to think about my surroundings, to be conscious of others, and let my worries drift into the wind behind me.

About an hour later, Dex has me stop at a public beach past Malibu, but just shy of Santa Barbara. “The sun is setting. Let’s take a walk on the beach.” We hang our helmets and kick off our shoes, before I bend over and roll up the bottom of my jeans. The sand is big, gritty, and warm from the hot day today. Walking toward the ocean, Dex stays quiet beside me, seeming to have his mind on things other than the sunset.

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask while pulling my hair back into an elastic band.

“The bike is a gift.”

Shocked by his doozie of a statement, I stop walking and turn to him. “For what?”

“I thought you should have it.”

Glancing back to it, I feel the debate beginning. “You can’t give me a motorcycle, Dex.”

“I just did.”

“Take it back,” I demand, putting my hands on my hips.

“No. Why should I?”

“Because it’s too much. We’re friends. Friends don’t give each other gifts like that.”

“What do friends give each other then?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Like sweaters and stuff. Maybe a trinket box or flowers, but a motorcycle is too expensive.”

“I don’t even know what a trinket box is.” He points back to the bike, and says, “And that bike was not expensive.”

“It’s like my old one?”

“Yeah. An ’87 Honda.”

“Okay, it’s not expensive but it’s still too much.”

“The thought is too much?” He laughs and takes my hand in his. “Let’s walk.” And we do. The sun is dipping into the ocean, reflecting like magic dust on the surface. He adds, “I bought the bike because of what it represents.”

“I’m lost, Dex. Tell me what it represents.”

“You know what you once told me about riding motorcycles?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t remember. It’s been too long since I had one to remember my philosophies on the subject.”

“I remember. You said, there’s always a chance of death when you ride a bike, so it makes you appreciate the life you have.”

Standing just before the water can touch our feet, I say, “That’s deep,” which makes him chuckle.

“Yeah, it was pretty profound at nineteen. It means more today.”

I start to laugh, but I don’t continue when I realize he’s being serious. Instead, I turn my head to face into the wind and close my eyes. When I reopen them the sun is almost gone. “I got rid of my bike when I got pregnant with Neil.”

He nods. “Makes sense.”

The horizon is the only bright spot left. “How’d you remember what I said after all these years?”

He comes to stand between me and the view. “Because it changed my life… you changed my life, Rochelle.”

“See,” I say, backing away. “You do that. You say these things to me and make me feel special when I haven’t earned it. I’m not special.”

“You’re special to me.”

“No!” I turn on my heel and stomp my way through the sand, kicking it up in the process.

“You can’t just yell no and walk away, Rochelle. It’s not that simple. We’re not that simple.”

He’s right. We’re not. Coming to a halt, I stop with my back to him and drop my head down, feeling the emotions beginning to wash through me. Smothering my weaknesses, I spin around and point my finger at him. “You can’t do this to me anymore. We’re not together. Dex.”

“I was going to have sex with Firenza so you would hate me. So you wouldn’t come on rides with me up the coast at sunset or come by with your kids. I wanted to fuck her to make you fuck off.” He comes closer and I stand there stabbed by his words. “No one believes in me. No one. They believe in my drumming, but not in me. You’re right. I’m no good, Rochelle. I’m no good for you or your kids. I’m not the one you should be standing next to if a photographer snaps your picture.”

“I don’t understand this back and forth with you.”

“I didn’t either and then I woke up this morning and realized I’ve suffered enough. You’ve suffered enough. But when we’re together, it’s all good. We stop suffering and the rest of the bullshit falls away and… You need to know that I see you as pure and good. You’re loved by everyone. You’re perfection to me.” He stops in front of me and wipes my tears away. “So this slow or medium or whatever it is, it’s okay for now, but one day I’m gonna be good too. I’m gonna be good enough for you.”

“Don’t tell me these things—”

“I’m not gonna tell you, sweetheart. I’m going to show you. One day I’ll deserve to be the one standing here.”

No matter the anguish I feel, I’m captivated by this man. “And until then?”

“Stop dating jerks like me.” He walks around my stunned body and heads for the bike.

Running to catch up, I say, “So you brought me out here to tell me to stop dating assholes?”

“No. I brought you out here to watch the sunset. The rest is a just a perk.”

I don’t bother stifling a laugh. He may be cocky, determined, too sexy for his own good, but he’s also wise. Tossing him the key as I pass by him, I say, “You can drive back.”

“You sure?”

Grabbing my helmet, I say, “I’m sure.” And I am. I’ll let him drive this relationship for awhile and we can start with the motorcycle.

I wrap myself around him, molding to the back of him, resting my head to the side. I rub the soft leather, then my hands slip inside the unzipped front to find the cotton blowing over his stomach. Squeezing tighter, his shirt waves up, and my hand is against the firm muscles. My legs tighten around him, the rough back of his jeans hitting me and making me want him. I’d forgotten how much motorcycles turned me on, especially when riding with a hot guy.

His hand covers mine and I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of being this at peace again. Letting my mind go back to the beach, I think about what he said and the side effects of our relationship. But I realize, they’re not side effects. They’re consequences of our actions. And like all actions, we have a choice to make, a price to pay, and a lesson to learn—consequences.

It’s not until I’m lying in my room in the middle of the night that I finally connect the pieces Dex has given me. Two to be fastened together, interlocked in this puzzle we call life—Dex will never feel good enough as long as others remind him of his faults. And for me, just like at nineteen, it took a bike to remind me to appreciate the life I have.

I reach over and turn my phone off, the call I wanted never came, but an epiphany or two did. I fall asleep and dream of the beach and a crooked smile that is perfect to me.