Standing there in front of the mail basket, I didn’t know what to make of the invitation in my hand. I’d read it three times already, but decided I need to read it again hoping it would clarify things for me.

Dear Ms. Floros,: You are cordially invited to the home of

Nope, it makes no more sense to why Dex’s mother is inviting me over than it did the first three times I read it. I pull up the planner on my phone and clear it. If she’s asking me over, I feel I should go despite the absence of her son in my life.

I start to wonder if Dex will be there or does he even know I’ve been invited?

I miss him so much.

* * *

Lara stops by with lunch.

“I missed you. Stop traveling so much,” I joke. “I kid, kind of. Okay, I mean it. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. I brought us sushi.”

“Excellent. I’m starved. Let’s eat outside.” We walk to the back patio and sit down at the table I’ve set. White wine is poured and we dig into the food and fall back into all the latest gossip. “How was New York?”

“It’s New York. It never changes, yet, it’s always changing. That makes no sense, but I’m just not a New Yorker. I need sunshine and the ocean to inspire me and my designs.”

“I’m glad you’re back. I’ve needed someone to take my mind off things.”

“So Dex hasn’t called?”

“No.” I drag my salmon roll through the wasabi, then say, “I’ve seen so much tragedy come to those who got too much in life too soon. But slowly we’re all working through it, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Dex seems to be caught in a mixture of emotions. He’s happy when he’s with me. I can tell he’s at peace. But something inside of him wants to destroy us, to destroy that peace as if he’s undeserving of it. He’s gonna have to figure this out or we’ll never be together.”

“So you’re willing to wait and see?”

“I am for him, but he doesn’t know that yet.”

“You’re a wonderful person. Better than most.” Lara holds her glass up and we toast. Though I’m not sure what we’re toasting to.

* * *

I’m prompt, as everyone should be when invited to afternoon tea. I’ve never had high tea, but I understand there are rules and etiquette that accompany it. Being on time is probably one of them.

The door is opened by Charles. I remember him from the first time we stopped by. “Right this way,” he directs.

I’m quickly intercepted by Judith and her wide smile. “It’s so good to see you again, Ms. Floros.”

“You too, Judith. Please call me Rochelle.”

She nods, and says, “Right this way, Rochelle. Mrs. Caggiano is waiting for you.”

With my hand, I stop her when I touch her forearm. “Should I be worried?”

Her smile eases into reassurance. Her hand covers mine, and she replies, “No, Mrs. Caggiano likes you. I’ve heard only good things from your visit to Diablo. But I will warn you that she’s weak, weaker than she lets on.”

“Thank you.”

I walk into the conservatory. Dex’s mother is seated in the far corner in a plush, floral fabric covered chair as she stares through the glass outside.

“Ms. Floros,” Charles announces.

Mrs. Caggiano turns and smiles when her eyes land on me. “Come in,” she says, starting to stand.

I rush over. “No, don’t get up for me.” Standing before her, she sits back down and reaches a hand out. I take it, and say, “Thank you for having me here for tea today.”

“I’m glad you could join me. Please. Sit,” she says, signaling to a chair next to hers that also faces out toward the gardens.

“I must admit, the invitation was unexpected.”

“Yes, but I’m glad you accepted. We didn’t have enough time to chat in Diablo.”

“Was there something in particular you wanted to chat about?” I ask.

“My youngest son.”

“I should tell you that I care about Dex, but we currently aren’t seeing each other.”

She leans back in her chair and an understanding grin appears. “I know. I don’t mean to pry. I’ve been hands off with him for many years, too many. I’ve failed him in so many ways. I’ve tried to reconcile that with him, but some scars are too deep to heal overnight.” The tea and tray of finger foods arrive on a large silver tray, interrupting her. She waits until everything is set up on the table before us, then continues when we’re alone again. “Antonio and I may not be able to heal all of our old wounds, but I hope he can carry on with less pain weighing on his heart.”

“He’s a good man.”

“You love him though he’s left you… in a way.”

“In a way?” I question, curious to what exactly she knows about our situation.

“He loves you. He’s being a silly man and hoping to spare you his burdens to bear. What he doesn’t understand is that women are built to share our partners’ troubles. Wouldn’t you say?” She leans forward and pours the tea. “Please eat something.”

“I would help him if I knew how, Mrs. Caggiano.” I drink my tea straight and take a bite of a small chicken salad sandwich.

His mother says, “I’ve jumped ahead of myself and forgotten my manners. Please call me Katherine.”

Setting the sandwich down, I dab the side of my mouth with the white cloth napkin. “Thank you.”

After sipping her tea, she says, “I’ll be gone soon. My expiration date, according to the doctors, has come and gone. Yet, I’m not really feeling inspired. I worry. Antonio has been left with a huge responsibility not only with my father’s estate, but his company as well since I won’t be around. I did the best I could to get things in order. I left an internal board to run things for years. I never had a knack for those types of dealings.”

I touch her wrist that is resting on the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. Cancer is not how I expected to go… I wonder about my sons and if they’ll make up. They disagree about,” she says, with a light laugh, looking at the floral pattern of the chair, her finger tracing a violet peony. “Pretty much everything. Gage is troubled a lot like my father was. Anto… Dex is like his father. Troubled in other ways.” She looks up. “I need to ask you a favor, Rochelle.”

I want to readily agree, but my heart begins to race and without warrant I start to hold my breath in anticipation of what’s coming next.

She smiles. “Take care of my son when he finds his way back to you.”

A slow exhale is followed by me asking, “How do you know he will?”

“You’re the love of his life. He didn’t have to tell me that, though he did. I could tell the first time I ever saw you with him. Diablo confirmed my suspicions.”

“What if he never comes back?”

“Then he’ll miss out on his own love story.”

I smile. “In Diablo, you told us to follow our hearts.”

“Follow your heart. It will lead you home.”

* * *

On the drive home, I ponder her words and my thoughts drift to Dex and the mess he must feel his life is. It makes me want to call him, but I don’t. Even Tommy told me to give him time.

So I do. I also wonder about my future and what role am I willing to let Dex play in my life and in the boys’ lives. As much as I love starting this new chapter with Dex, hoping he follow his heart back to me, the reality is, I need to close other chapters, fully opening my heart to him.

The kids go through our nightly routine until I crawl into bed. My entries haven’t been as regular recently, so I pull my journal out of my nightstand and write:

Dear Cory,

I’ve been working on the tour that starts in five months and closed two deals for Kaz and Derrick. Johnny seems content with the music—writing and recording in his home studio to care about marketing. Tommy’s been working with the tour designers and stadiums. We all seem to be caught up in our own thing, but Dex is lost to us all.

I’m worried.

He sends the boys videos, so they can keep learning. They miss him, but understand that sometimes grownups are busy. They seem satisfied for now with the videos and packages he’s sent them though they ask about him a lot.

I shouldn’t bore you with this stuff. I’m sure you see right through me. You always could. So I’m just going to get this off my chest now.

I still hold onto the notion that time will heal all wounds. My heart wants to believe what my head logically knows is an impossibility. You will never be replaced in my heart. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a little room inside for someone else too.

I know you wouldn’t want me to spend my life alone. Nor I you, but it’s easier said than done, like most things. I’ve been closed off for so many years that I’ve come to realize that I will be alone forever if I continue to live like this. You, my love, will always be a part of me. But now I’m asking you to loosen the reigns around my heart and let me live in love again.

My tears drop down onto the paper, smearing the ink a bit, but I continue writing.

Please don’t hate me, Cory.

I don’t want to lie to you or hide my feelings any longer. Hoping you find contentment in me finding happiness again would be amazing and freeing in so many ways. I’m not sure if that will ever happen, but like Holli always says, Dare to Dream.

So I’m not sure where this leaves us—you and me, Mr. Journal. But I think this might be my last entry. Before I go, I must say this one more time—I Love You, Cory.

Goodbye.

XO