"So, what will you be doing while I'm gone?"

"Sleeping."

"All day?"

"You'll be gone all day?"

I poked my head out of the bathroom where I'd been fixing my hair, preparing for my lunch date with Regina. Oddly, I wasn't at all nervous. I was, in fact, a little excited to see her and talk to her. I didn't even flatiron my hair-I let the curls and waves fall, framing my face in nice contrast to my olive tone and bright grey eyes. I smiled at myself in the mirror, thinking about how much I looked like her, and about how much the thought used to upset me just a short year ago. My, how things change.

"I'll be gone awhile. I don't plan on rushing through it. Do you want to just drop me off, so you have the car?"

"Nope," JC answered without taking his eyes off of the loud football game on the TV. "I can get around, if I need to. I don't plan on leaving this room, though. I haven't been alone in months."

I laughed and ducked back into the bathroom, ran the brush through a few more times and tossed it back into my bag, spritzed on a few drops of perfume and walked out of the bathroom, snapping off the light. I reached into the closet in the hallway and pulled my coat off of its hanger. "Well, I'm going."

JC muted the TV but didn't move from his position on the bed, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, the remote lying on his belly. He'd shaved the day before, but his beard was already growing into a sexy, scratchy scruff. He nodded and waved his head several times before I got that he wasn't getting up, so he wanted me to come to him.  I walked around the bed and leaned down toward his puckered lips.

"Drive pretty," he said. "Bring me back a present."

I laughed, slipping my arms into my coat and buttoning it, then picking up my purse from the side table. "I'm bringing you back me."

"That old thing?"

I had been digging through my purse for keys and paused, glaring at him. "Joshua Scott-"

"I mean yay, you!  Have fun, sweetie. Don't worry about me. I'm hanging out right here."

"Alright then," I said. But didn't move. My eyes drifted to the TV and watched the movement across the Astroturf, two teams in different colors making play after play, advancing and retreating, scoring against each other.

"So... you know you can't get there if you don't leave, right?"

I nodded, glancing at him, then back to the game, one hand in the pocket of my coat, the other on the handle of my purse. "Yeah. I'm going."

"You don't want to go?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"So. Then. You're not going because..." He paused, his voice trailing off. I knew he expected me to fill in the blank but I didn't have an answer. "Serena. What?"

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. My bottom lip crept between my teeth. Why, all of a sudden, was I now nervous? "I don't know. I'm just... I don't know. Big day."

JC sat up and folded himself so he was sitting cross legged on the bed and stared up at me. "Nervous?"

"I guess. Don't know why. I've known her my whole life."

"No, you haven't. You just said last night that you don't know her. Now you're getting ready to walk into something and you don't know what it is. It's okay to be nervous. Stop being brave."

"I'm not... being brave." I sat on the bed in front of him and tucked a hand into the open palm he offered me. "I just didn't think I'd be nervous and now I am, kind of. What's it like, when you see... her... your mom?"

"It's fine, usually. It's a little slow, at first. There's always that awkward first few minutes but we warm up to each other pretty quickly." He gave my hand a pat or two and then his thumb did its usual slow, soft revolution on my skin, comforting as always.

"It'll be fine, right?" He nodded. "Right. So I should just go. Just... right now. Just go."

"Yup, right now, just go. Gimme a kiss, first." His lips were smooth and warm and firm as I kissed him a few times before I stood up again, grabbed my purse, and strode purposefully toward the door. Otherwise I wouldn't make it out of the room.

"I'm going! Watch! I'm leaving!"

"Bye, honey. Have fun," he answered with an absentminded wave, fully engrossed in the game, again. I walked out of the room, breathing a happy sigh. And then steadying myself with a nervous, shaky breath in.

Here goes nothin'.

Regina's directions were amazingly clear and easy to follow. In no time I found her building, just a few blocks from the University of Denver. Though it was winter vacation for the school, the area was crawling with students wandering around, backpacks slung over one shoulder, a general dazed and lack of sleep about them.

I parked in a visitor spot in the lot across the street from University Lofts, a red brick building that looked like it was once a factory. I was already excited, since the building looked to have some history behind it. Offhand, I sort of hoped Regina chose the building because of its character and not only because it was cheap and close to campus.

I rushed across the street and through the double glass doors that led to the lobby of the building. On a wall to the right were a directory and a call box. I located her-R. Karides - and dialed the 3 digit code. Almost immediately, her voice crackled over the speaker, followed by a buzz and a door clicking open. I pulled it open and stepped inside the locked down area, took the elevator to the 4th floor and walked toward the scent of delicious food and the door opening wide.

Regina stepped out of her apartment looking just as fresh as the day before, albeit a little less made up. She was glowing, though, and she looked healthy. She smiled and opened her arms to welcome me.  I hugged her and walked past her, inside the apartment.

"Oh, wow," I sighed, looking around the very bright, cozy studio. She had the benefit of a few large windows, adorned with curtains that looked very familiar-like the curtains that billowed in the wind the first time that I met George and Ana. They must have been hand-made.

"Isn't this place cute? I just love it here." The sound of the door closing echoed up into the high ceilings. I heard Regina moving around behind me but I couldn't take my eyes off of her pretty little place.

"It's beautiful in here. You did a great job decorating. It seems so big."

"Yeah, I figure I'm probably going to stay for four years, so I may as well make it feel like home. You want a drink or something?" I turned, very suddenly, to look at her. She laughed, holding out a Pepsi. "Did you think I was offering something stronger?"

I laughed with her, inwardly breathing a sigh a relief. "Kind of. Just... surprised me."

I took the can of Pepsi and popped the top, sucking down a few gulps and then leaning against the granite countertop. "Gosh, this is nice," I commented, smoothing my hand across the surface, and then noticed a set of wooden bar stools with white linen chair backs tied onto them. Those matched the small two-person dining set that was nestled in a corner near the kitchen. Across the room was a futon, a small flat-screen TV, DVD player and stereo system installed into a modest TV stand against the wall. Finishing up the room was a writer's desk and straight back wooden chair with the same linen fabric tied across the back. The decorative accent throughout the room gave it a light, airy feel. It was a single room that didn't seem cramped at all.

"Lunch is warm. Let's eat over here." She nodded her head toward the two person dinette and set two full plates of steaming food across from each other. My stomach growled loudly, so loud she could hear it as I sat in my chair and scooted up to the table. "Mine does that sometimes. It's so loud!"

We chatted over lunch, surface chit chat with peaks and valleys but none of it really uncomfortable. My plate was close to cleared when I finally pushed it away, rubbing my belly and groaning. "I think I have eaten more than enough. But don't throw that away, I might pick at it."

She giggled, still poking at her plate. She was eating better, but still not as much as I had. "So, what's your boyfriend doing right now, since you're here with me?"

"He said he was going to sleep." I shrugged, hiding a small smile. "I don't know. He was still in pajamas when I left. He was watching football."

"What's uhm... what's it like? He's famous, right? I don't exactly know... I just know that I should know him."

"You've never looked him up? I've been dating him for a year!"

"I know, I know. I've been kind of preoccupied, you know. Getting my life in order. Making my daughter proud." She sipped a glass of cola and winked at me. Setting it down, she prodded. "Answer my question."

"What's it like? To date him or to date someone famous?"

"Either. Both. Whichever. You know what I mean."

"Uhm...well, as a celebrity, he's kind of boring," I finally said with a laugh. "He doesn't have any addictions, he's not wild and crazy, and he doesn't act weird or spoiled or entitled. He's pretty quiet and very private and he works a lot. And he likes to hang around his friends that aren't famous, because those are the real people."

Regina nodded, listening attentively, chewing slowly.

"As a boyfriend... well..." I blushed, wondering how far I should go and how much I should share with this woman who had an unbreakable bond with me, but whom I did not know. "He's pretty amazing, actually. He came along at just the right time in my life. He was exactly what I needed, when I needed it." I hesitated for a breath before telling her, "He's uhm... he's adopted."

Regina dropped her fork. The silver clanged against the plate and bounced onto the wood table top. Startled she grabbed it again and set it down gently. Her chin sank into the palm of one hand as she stared straight ahead into my eyes. "He... he's adopted, too?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I knew that about him. I had known for awhile but he never talked about it. And then he started talking about it a couple of years ago. About his birth mom and his family and everything and I really respected his bravery. It was one of the reasons that I really liked him, besides the whole ‘having the voice of an angel' thing. I mean, yeah... he's a celebrity but we have that one really huge thing in common. He helps me a lot... to deal with... all of this."

"Did he know? That you were adopted?"

I shook my head, squashing the idea that he was dating me because of that. More like the other way around. "Not at first. We went out the first night, and had a great time. He asked me out again and after spending a great day doing the tour of LA and all that, I told him. Out on the Santa Monica Pier. He was kind of surprised. And then really quiet. And then he asked some questions."

"Like?"

"Like, what was my situation? And did I know my parents? And did I always know I was adopted? Stuff like that."

"And did he..."

"He knows his mom. They have a relationship. He doesn't know his dad. At the time, we had similar situations."

I avoided her gaze for a few seconds, unsure of how she would react. She didn't, really, except to sit and stare at me, completely silent for awhile. After a few minutes, she heaved a heavy sigh, propped both elbows up onto the table and clasped her hands together in front of her mouth. I could just barely hear her when she started talking.

"Serena...you can't imagine how sorry I am for everything I put you though. If I could do it over again, I would make better choices, and I would have let the Willis' raise you and I wouldn't have interfered and I would have got clean. Because I could have, and I didn't. I let depression and jealousy and my own insecurity tell me that I couldn't be a good mother to you, even though I wanted to be."

"Regina," I soothed, capping her clasped hands with my own. "I forgave you a long time ago. And I want you to know that I'm very proud to be sitting here in your apartment, which you have on your own. Your own place, where you're clean and you're looking so good-you've done a great job with your recovery. I'm really, really proud of you and I know it doesn't seem like it but it's not that I don't see it or appreciate it. I'm just speechless and amazed and-okay, I'm gonna say it again. Proud."

She and I laughed together, echoes of each other, and she sighed, lowering her hands. "I want to talk to you about something. What I need your help with? Let's move to the couch."

I followed her to the futon with the thick cushion, covered in a light blue linen spread and accented with multicolored throw pillows. I sat while she rifled through a bag hanging off of the back of a chair. She pulled out a thin blue folder that seemed to be stuffed with papers and brought it to the couch, where she perched next to me and sucked in a deep breath.

"Okay. So. A few months ago, I met with my advisor for the drug counseling program that I want to be certified in? It's pretty intense, especially if you were an addict. I guess that a lot of addicts want to counsel, once they come out of rehab. Some stick with it, some get bored because they didn't really want to counsel, they just had so much pent up inside and thought that helping others would alleviate it. And it doesn't. Anyway..."

She paused, fingering the edge of the folder, and then opened it, pulled out a thick packet of pages stapled together and closed it, laying the pages on top. "As it turns out, they have kind of an extensive application process. So, I have to fill out this long questionnaire, and I have to write a letter. Not an admissions letter, but like, a letter to someone I hurt with my addiction."

My heart fell into my stomach and beat there, double-time.

"The problem is that a lot of this survey is about things I don't remember because... well because I was drunk. Or high.  And I was hoping we could, you know, talk about those years. If it's not too painful. And it doesn't have to be all at once. I have until next fall to submit it. I can't be considered until I'm a sophomore."  She slowly handed the pages to me, and I took them. "Could you maybe help me fill out the questionnaire as best you can? There are a lot of things only you would know."

I nodded, glancing through the list of increasingly deeper questions-what sort of drugs she used and how often, whether she used in groups or alone, how many times she sought help, how many failed rehab attempts, how many relapses. She surely wouldn't remember any of that, but I would. I would have been the one to send her, time after time. To help her, time after time. To watch her relapse time after time. Once again, it was surreal to be sitting next to her, fully sober, fully clean, with all her wits about her, enough to know that she had no idea how hard life had really been for me.

It took an hour and a half, but we slowly plodded through all 250 questions. A few were essay questions that we talked about. She took notes on a separate piece of paper so that she could write her answers later, and then we moved on to more questions. When that was filled out, she poured two tall glasses of iced tea and we sat back against the comfortable futon cushion and just talked. I had never really just talked to her.

"Do you think you're going to marry this guy you're dating?"

The question came completely out of the blue-we'd been talking about bathroom décor. How we jumped from coordinating towels and rugs to JC, I didn't know. At least it wasn't an unfamiliar question.

"I don't know," I answered with a shrug. It had become my pat answer to that question. I really, honestly didn't know. For sure.

"Does he want to? Does he bring it up?"

"All the time," I admitted, sheepish at even saying it. "We've talked about it a couple of times but I'm a little stressed out over it, right now. I'm not quite ready, just yet."

"Mmmm... Any reason in particular, or just not ready?"

I shook my head slowly, thoughtfully. "Just not ready. I love him to pieces. I really, really do. I always have, and this last year has been the most amazing year of my life. I want so many more with him, but there's a big difference between us having a good time together and being committed to someone for life. I want to be sure. I want him to be sure."

"Well, he seems sure. Not that I know. The only serious relationship I had was based on a lie. I got pregnant, he kicked me out and I ruined a bunch of lives." She lifted her glass, mostly ice, to me and sipped the residual water at the bottom.

"Regina..."

"No, no," she said, waiving me off. "I mean, I don't feel sorry for myself at all. I just feel so far behind everyone. Everything. I have a daughter who's old enough to almost be married and I'm just now getting to school to get a degree. My first degree! I can't drive. I don't own a car. I rent a tiny studio apartment between a college campus and a Hilton hotel. I'm a fucking maid, for Christ's sake." She sighed, loudly and heavily, rolling her eyes, rubbing her temples. "I don't mean to dump on you. Just... whenever I see you, I have so many regrets. I could have had all this time with you and I've wasted my life, so far."

"But you know what, Regina? Your first work is to forgive yourself. Don't they teach you that, in AA? Or something?"

"Yes. But..."

"But nothing." I grabbed her hand, bony and clammy, and gripped it. She held tightly to me, like she'd fall away if she let go. "I'm not mad at you. Yeah, life was rough for a long time, but it's behind us. Yeah there was some fucked up shit going on in our little family, you and I. But it's done. Over. Forever. Let it go, Regina."

She stared at me, her eyes wide and glassy and her bottom lip trembling. "Family? You and I?"

"Yeah. Family, you and I. You're my mom, aren't you?"

Tears sprang from Regina's eyes and rolled down her cheeks in an endless river. She sobbed openly, a hand covering her mouth to muffle the gut wrenching sounds coming from deep inside. I moved closer and gathered her to me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and laying her head against me. I rubbed her back and held her tight and let her cry. When she sat up, she glanced up at me and I couldn't help laughing.

"I hate my crying face," I said, plucking a few tissues from the box of Kleenex on a side table and tucking them into her palm.

She laughed, eventually, swiping her eyes and face with the tissue. "Yeah, we are pretty ugly criers, I guess."

"JC says I'm beautiful when I cry. I think he's full of shit."

She laughed again and blew her nose. Sniffling, she quipped, "You should marry that guy. At least he says all the right things." She moved away a little, sitting back against the futon. "Do you know why I moved out?"

"Because George is a controlling egomaniac stuck in the year 1932?"

She laughed, her head thrown back a little.  "You picked up on that, huh? Well, that and uhmmm..." She leaned close to me and whispered, "I kind of have a man."

Shocked, I sat bolt upright. "Regina!" I playfully tapped her arm. She pretended to fight me off.  "I have been here for like... 3 hours and you're just now spilling this delicious piece of news?!"

Her smile was bright and wide and she was blushing, just the tiniest bit. "I didn't know when to bring it up! I thought you'd, you know, ask me. Since I was asking about JC. But then again, why would you expect me to be dating someone?" She dabbed at her eyes and sniffled and then shot me a shy smile. "His name is Ian. He's Greek. He's really cute. He's the typical dark hair and dark skin. Brown eyes. Big bright smile. He works at the hotel."

I nodded, fully understanding the near sudden move toward independence. "So that's why you got an apartment!"

She nodded beaming. "Now, no one knows, especially my father. Ian and I spend a lot of time at his place, but I couldn't have him over at the house, you know? Daddy started getting a little strict with me, about being out late. Following my schedule, wanting to know where I was, at all times. And I thought, you know, I am almost 50 years old. This is not normal or natural. I said I wanted to move out and... maybe they are getting less strict in their old age but they agreed. Some of this furniture is retired from the hotel. They bought me the futon and let me take the TV and the stereo from my room. Mama made the curtains." She pointed at them, all around the room. I nodded, more interested in this Ian.

"He knows all about me and my past. And you. And... everything. And he still likes me." She shrugged, giddy but a touch shy. Maybe embarrassed?  "One day, I looked at myself in the mirror and I saw this look on my face. It was so familiar. I realized that it was the look I saw on your face, the last time you came to Denver. When JC dropped you off, and when I saw you, you were glowing. You looked so in love. I saw that in my own face and I knew I had to take a step forward. We're taking it slow, but... he's pretty special."

"I think that is...." I couldn't even think of an appropriate word to use. I floundered, trying to think of one, finally settling on "Amazing. Absolutely amazing and wonderful and I'm so happy for you. I hope he really treats you well."

"He does. He really does. It's frustrating to not be able to tell anyone but until he transfers to another hotel, we don't want any politics."

"And he's dating the owner's daughter, so he'd be under a microscope."

She nodded, vigorously. "Yeah the owner's microscope. Daddy likes Ian. He just doesn't know Ian is doing his daughter."

I giggled, blushing at her mention of sex. Yet another new experience for me. "Uhm. Dads tend to not think about that kind of thing, Regina. Be thankful that you don't have brothers to enlighten them." I told her the story from Christmas, about Chris teasing JC and I, and later Kim mentioning that she could hear us. At least as an only child she had the benefit of never being ratted out.

Another hour flew by as we talked more about Ian and JC, swapping mushy stories and memorable moments. She asked questions, a lot of them, about intimate things. It made sense that she didn't really know how to date. Her only boyfriend had been Charles, 33 years ago. Since then, she'd only used men for what she could get from them, never for love or pleasure. She had no one else, I guess, but in so many ways I was honored to be the one she chose to ask. I was not any kind of expert, but I enjoyed being with JC and had learned a lot from him. I shared what I could -- the rest of it would have to be learned by experience, which was really the best way. And the most fun.

The shadows thrown across the room grew long and the air turned pink with the sunset.  My heart sank with the realization that I had to leave. I didn't have enough time with her. I wanted more time. My chest was tight and I was the one blinking back tears as Regina chirped and chatted away, helping me put on my coat and handing me my purse.

"I hate to go, but we have plans for the night," I moped, slowly moving toward the door.

She smiled and squeezed my arm as she walked with me, then turned the doorknob and opened the door. Cool air from the hallway rushed in around us. "I know, honey. I know. Maybe I can see you again before you head back to LA. And you know, LA and Denver aren't that far apart. Not like Atlanta and Denver. You can come see me easier, right?"

"Totally. I'll definitely be back soon. And I'll work on our little project so you can write your letter and get into that program. I'll do whatever I can." I held an arm out to her and hugged her tightly, and then made myself let go and walk down the hall toward the elevator. Otherwise I'd never leave.

I made it to the car and ducked inside, jammed the key into the ignition and cranked the heat to take the edge off of the biting cold. While the car warmed up, I dug my phone out of my purse and called the one person I was most excited to talk to about my day.

"Yo," said JC, over the sound of the TV in the background. "What's up, honey? On your way?"

"Yeah, I just left Regina's. Warming up the car and I'll be on my way back."

"Good. You sound happy. Did it go okay?"

I smiled, even though he couldn't see it. I couldn't help it. "Oh, baby... better than okay. I have a lot to tell you. But it went great."

"Told ya."  I could have predicted that response from him. I expected it, but was feeling so giddy that I let it slide.

"Yep, you told me. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

"Bring me back some you. I miss you."

Damn. My heart was melting all over the place and settling in one big warm ball of goo in my stomach. First a great conversation with my mom and then my boyfriend missed me.

"I miss you, too. You're so sweet to me."

"And some McDonalds," he added. "Make it snappy. I'm hungry. "

"And there's the JC I know and love." A deep chuckle crossed the line, bringing with it an electric shock that ran down my back and zipped down to my toes.  "I will bring you some me and your favorite from McDonald's. Anything else, sir?"

"Nope, that'll be it. Chop chop," he said, and then hung up. I was left staring at the phone in disbelief. I rolled my eyes, sighed impatiently, and put the phone away. The car was warm, so I backed out of the space and turned onto the main thoroughfare, in search of the nearest quarter pounder with cheese.

When I got back to the room, laden with my purse, a bag from McDonald's and a cup of ice cold Coke, I kicked the door until JC got up to open it. When the door swung open, he was on the phone, smiling and laughing.

"Yeah, she's just coming back now so I'm gonna eat and talk and stuff.........none of your business.........seriously, Joe?" JC laughed and lowered the phone. "Joey says hi, honey."

I had set the bag of food and my purse on the table, unbuttoned my coat, and was hanging it in the closet. At the mention of Joey's name, it slid off the hanger and dropped to the floor in a crumple. "Fatone? Joey Fatone?"

"Yes, Joey Fatone. He says..."  I heard chatter on the other end of the line, which JC just laughed at, then rolled his eyes and handed me the phone. "He's saying a bunch of stuff that I'm not repeating. Here, talk to him."

I took the phone, unsure of what I should really say. "Uhm. Hi, Joey."

"Hey! Serena, right? How are you?" Joey's voice was oddly high pitched, higher than I imagined it would be.

I smiled into the phone, trying hard not to act like a fan but realizing, over and over, that I was talking to Joey! "I'm... I'm good. I'm fine. Wow. How are you?"

"Really good. Busy, lots going on. I heard you guys were in Orlando over Thanksgiving, and I told C that the next time he's in town and he doesn't drop by I'm gonna kick his ass. I'm putting you in charge of making sure he gets here. Alright?"

I giggled, full of nervous laughter. JC sat at the table and emptied the bag of food, unwrapped his burger and took a bite. He then sat back, crossed one leg over the other and smugly chewed while he watched me fumble the conversation.

"Okay. Uhm. I'll make sure we come see you next time. So... uh... I don't really know what to say, here. I'm surprised to be talking to you."

"Don't worry about it. It's cool." His voice lowered a bit, like he was whispering, but loudly. "I bet he's eating, huh? He eats a lot."

"He does eat a lot. He picks on me about how much I eat. And he is eating right now. His face is full of burger."

"I knew it. How does he stay so skinny? Anyway, he said you guys have plans tonight, and you had a big day, I heard, so uh... I'll let ya go but I hope to meet you soon, okay?'

"Do you need JC back?"

"Nah, we're good. Talk to you later." For the second time that day, I was hung up on.

"You and your friends have terrible phone habits." I slid his phone onto the table in front of him and bent to kiss a greasy cheek. "How's your burger?"

"You only got me one."

"We're eating in two hours, JC. And you're welcome."

He swallowed and gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit. Talk. How'd it go?"

I sat. I talked. I told him everything. Every detail I could think of, every feeling I felt, everything we talked about, everything that happened. He listened, attentive and alert, not distracted or eager for the story to end.

"So you think she'll be alright from now on? On her own?"

I nodded, sure of my answer. "Yeah. She seems to be doing great. You know, taking it day by day but she's definitely determined. I'm so happy.  And happy for her. I don't think I could take it if she relapsed again."

"Hmmm..." he mused, biting off a few french fries. "What do you think about this guy she's seeing? Should she be doing that, so soon?"

I shrugged. "Hell if I know. I don't know what's protocol, but she's out of rehab. She's working and she's going to school, and like she said, she's almost 50. And like you said, we have to let her do this on her own. She's a big girl. She can handle it."

JC ran his finger along the grain of the table, picking up sesame seeds from the surface and flicking them into the empty bag. "It's good to see that she's doing well. And it's good to see you handling it so well. So the thing she needed your help with? It's just an essay?"

"Not really an essay. She has to write me a letter, about how her drug and alcohol abuse affected me. Except she doesn't remember much of it, so I sort of have to... write something up, about my experience and how I felt and how things were hard. So she knows for sure. And then she knows, I guess, what to say in her letter. That's gonna be hard."

He chewed his lips, his eyes downcast. "Yeah. That would be tough." His eyes lifted then and said, "But you're a pretty strong person, so I'm sure you can do it. I believe in you."

I stretched my arms across the table, laying my hands out, palm up. He laid his hands over mine, closed around them and squeezed. The room was quiet, since the TV was on mute. We sat there in silence, holding hands and staring at each other. Saying nothing. Saying everything.

"Sometimes it feels like you're the only one who knows how I really feel." My voice broke a little as I said it. I watched a cloud of concern roll into JC's eyes the minute I began to falter. That was so like him-to be concerned about catching me the minute I start to fall.  

"That's because I am the only one who knows how you really feel."

"Yeah, and I hope you don't feel like... pressured to be that person for me."

"Honey... no." He shook his head, wagging it from side to side. "Think about it like this--you know when I tell you something that's like really private or something I've never told anyone? Or I let you do something for me, something I don't normally let people do, and you get all... happy?" He smirked, but then his mouth softened into a sweet smile. "You like that feeling. I like it, too. I like being there for you. I worry that maybe I won't be there when you need me and that's what stresses me out. That's what makes me feel pressured-just knowing I can't always be there to help you make sense of this stuff."

"Well..." I had to pause and swallow hard and blink back a few tears before I could speak again. "These times that you're here to help? They really, really help. I get stronger every time you're beside me, and even if I had to go through something alone, I wouldn't really be alone. I just... all I need is to know that you care, and that you get it. You understand why I'm a jumble of feelings that don't make sense and you don't judge me about it and you let me figure it out in my own time. That's all I need."

"I care. I get it. I understand. And I love you." JC squeezed my hands again, twice. I looked up at him and he was smiling. "Wanna hug it out?"

I laughed and stood up and walked right into his open arms. I wrapped myself tightly around him, basking in the feeling of being surrounded. Covered. Comforted. For a few minutes, the world consisted of nothing but him and me and his arms and his heartbeat and the prickly feel of his scruff against my forehead. For a few minutes, there was bliss.

JC's lips traveled down my face to my nose and then my lips as I lifted my head to him. Too soon, he pulled back and caught my eye.

"I should probably get dressed. Is this what you're wearing?"

I smiled sweetly and stretched up on my toes to kiss him again, and then let go. "Yes, this is what I'm wearing. I don't feel like changing, and it's just dinner. Why? You're the fashion police all of a sudden?"

JC was across the room, squatting over his suitcase laid open in the closet. He glanced back to glare at me and went back to his neatly folded piles of clothing. I dropped onto the bed to watch him.

"I just needed to know if I needed to wear jeans or slacks. Since you're wearing jeans, I'm wearing jeans."

"Good deal. And hurry up. We have to leave in an hour."

He headed toward the bathroom, his toiletry bag and a pile of clothes in tow. "Back off, lady. This is my me time."

"You had a whole day of me time!" I yelled through the closing door.

*

An hour later, we were piling into the car, our breath pluming in the frigid night air. I plugged the address into the GPS, started the car and pulled out of the hotel parking lot onto the street. The mechanical voice called out directions sending us toward the nearest highway, going south.

"So... Charles has kids, right?"

"Mmmhmm. Two twin girls, who are twelve and an older one who is 20."

"Do they know I'm coming?"

"Charles and his wife do. He said they weren't going to tell the girls in case you decided not to come. He didn't want to get them excited and then disappoint them. And he didn't want them running their mouths to their friends."

"Good thinking."

If I wasn't mistaken, I felt JC relax a little. Three girls, he could handle. The thought of a gaggle of them standing on the lawn of a private home seemed to stress him out, a little. Truthfully, it stressed me out, too.

Charles and Claire Goodreau lived in an upper middle class neighborhood in a southern suburb of Denver. I recognized the large stone structure boasting the name of their subdivision, Ridgecrest, from my last trip to Denver. I had met the two youngest girls-the twins - Kathleen and Kylie. The oldest, Katrina, was out of town so I would be meeting her for the first time that night.

Charles had been cagey in his explanation of her absence on my last trip. I suspected she just didn't want to meet me, and tried to shrug it off. It still niggled at me sometimes. I was happy that we'd have a chance to finally meet and talk and the idea that one of my stepsisters didn't like me wouldn't bother me anymore.

The GPS took us into the entrance and through several streets of impressively large homes, set back from the street. Well manicured lawns, pruned bushes, houses closed up tight, save the beams of light shining from various windows and flickers from TV sets as we slowly passed by.  I turned left on Ridgecrest circle and pulled into the driveway next to a slightly sprawling grey stone multilevel home.

I put the car in park, but didn't turn it off. "Okay. Ground rules. Let me know if you feel uncomfortable. Let me know if you're ready to go before I am. And... you don't have to sing. Even if they beg."

JC eyed me from the passenger seat, an eyebrow curiously cocked over his left eye. He nodded, once, and then said, "Okay."

"I mean... I just don't want you to be uncomfortable..." JC leaned across the center console and kissed me. I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Is that your new way of telling me to shut up?"

"Yes," he answered. "Honey, it'll be fine. I have dealt with screaming teenage girls for, like... half my life. I know what I'm doing. Turn on the charm, right?"

"Right. Okay. So... you're fine?"

"I'm fine. Are you fine?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." I sat there for a moment, staring at the two globes of light that the headlights made on the garage door in front of us. JC waited, quiet and patient, until I said, "Okay. I'm ready," and turned off the car and the lights.

"Here we go," he said, opening his door and stepping out into the cold. He met me on my side and grabbed my hand as we climbed the short flight of steps and walked along the sidewalk path to the front door. I pressed a dimly lit white button and heard the doorbell chime from behind the large front door.

A few seconds later, the knob turned and the door opened, spilling bright light out onto the porch where we stood. Charles stepped out from behind the door, smiling and holding an arm open for a hug.

"There's my oldest! Glad to see you found us, again."

I hugged him and stepped aside. "And look who I found, hanging around LA? I decided to bring him by." JC and Charles shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, then he ushered us into the house and through a formal sitting room and dining room to a more casual dining area off of the kitchen.

The only word I could think of to describe the house was wood. Wood, wood, wood. Wood paneling, light brown wood cabinets in the kitchen, a center island made of the same wood that the cabinets were made of. Wood floors in the dining room and kitchen, and down some of the hallways, I noticed as we passed them.

Claire was in the kitchen, an apron covering a light pink blouse and black skirt. She was bent over the oven and pulling out a covered roasting pan. Her face broke into a smile as we rounded the corner.

"Well hi, Serena. It's been so long since we saw you." She set the pan on the stove and removed her oven mitts, moving toward me with open arms. I hugged her, too, feeling her tense up when she noticed that I wasn't alone.  "Oh," she said, stepping back. Her face was flushed red and her brown eyes open wide.

"Uhm, yeah you've never met my boyfriend. This is JC. JC this is my dad's wife, Claire."

"Nice to meet you," JC said, stepping around me to take the hand she weakly offered. I never stopped being amazed at people's reactions to meeting him. Every single one of them just stared. "Thanks for having us over."

"Honey, he's on that dance show that the kids love. You know the one on MTV, with the guy with the dimples?"

"Right... yes," she said to Charles. "Yes, of course. Well, welcome." She seemed to gather herself together and whipped off her apron. "Well, take off those coats. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes. Charles, would you get the girls, please?"

He disappeared for a few minutes and Claire buzzed around the kitchen, muttering to herself. JC and I looked at each other, standing awkwardly in the dining room. He shrugged and pulled out a bar stool and sat down. I was entirely too nervous to sit.

"Claire, can I help? Do you have things that need to go to the table? Let me help, or I'll go crazy watching you."

She laughed and handed me a few dishes to set on the table, and then a basket of rolls, and then a container of butter. JC watched me traipse back and forth in front of him, his expression amused while he answered Claire's inane questions about LA and where he had spent Christmas and had he ever been to Denver before?

The sound of twin voices bickering floated from down the hall and toward me just as I finished making my rounds to set the table. I poked my head around the corner and smiled at my step-sisters, tiny versions of Claire with blonde hair and brown eyes, sweet round faces and slight builds. They weren't matching, but their dresses were a similar style. They were identical except for a small mole near the left ear. Kathleen had the mole. Kylie did not.

"Serena!" They squealed in unison, rushing down the hall as soon as they saw me and wrapped their thin limbs around my waist. I hugged them both close to me, dropping a kiss on first one blonde head, and then another.

"Hey, ladies. It's good to see you again. I swear you're both a foot taller since last summer. What did I say about growing? And what is this?" I tipped Kathleen's head up to me. "Are you wearing eye shadow, young lady?"

"Yeah," she gushed. "Mom lets me, ‘cause it's Mary Kate and Ashley. I can't wear the grown up Revlon stuff she wears until I'm sixteen."

"And only lip gloss," Kylie volunteered. "No lipstick until we're... how old?"

"Let's put it this way," said Claire from across the room. "If you have to ask, you're too young."

Both girls laughed, but Claire's comment from across the room drew their eyes toward the kitchen. And the man sitting on the bar stool in the kitchen that looked unbelievably familiar, I'm sure. I expected some squealing and jumping, but both girls grew still, barely breathing, and clung to me. Claire and I watched them come to slow realization that JC Chasez was in their house, mere feet from them.

"Serena?" Kathleen was whispering, her head slowly turning toward me. "Is that... who I think it is?" I nodded a few times, smiling down at her, and then her sister, and then moving us all toward him. They moved with me, albeit slowly. Inside, I was laughing hysterically. On the outside, I thought they were incredibly cute.

"I want you guys to meet someone. He's really nice and not scary, so I want you girls to be the brave and lovely ladies that I know you are, okay?" They nodded and I glanced at JC. His eyes twinkled and he was smiling and looking very expectant and kind of excited.

"JC, I want you to meet my stepsisters. This is Kathleen..." I pushed her forward, but she did nothing but stand in front of him, eyes bugged out and mouth open wide. "And her sister, Kylie Goodreau. Ladies, this is JC."

JC stood from his stool and held out a hand to Kathleen. Slowly, she laid her hand in his. He laid his other hand on top of hers and squeezed her hand between his. JC's hands were huge and always warm. That probably felt amazing.

 "Nice to meet you, Kathleen. Are you okay?" She nodded and stuttered something that sounded like yes, and clutched her hand to her chest when he finally let go. Kylie got the same treatment, somewhat less entranced than her sister. She was alert enough to giggle and blush furiously and say ‘hi' back to him.

"I don't care! Ugh! Shut up, dad!"

The silence and nice atmosphere was broken by an outburst and stomping down the stairs. Claire frowned and rolled her eyes and then turned toward the refrigerator. A tall, dark haired woman bounced into the kitchen, so much hair and hips. She was buxom and lithe in a short, clingy, dark dress with a plunging neckline. The angelic family photos that I'd seen of the Goodreau family had hidden this side of her. Everything about her said she was trouble.  I immediately felt sorry for Charles.

"Fine, I'm down here. Are we eating or-hey." Her rant only paused when she noticed me standing in the dining room between her sisters. In person, Katrina and I looked amazingly alike. It wasn't just the dark hair and the ears-we both carried Charles' features quite strongly. I always felt like I was a mirror image of Regina, but so much of me was the spitting image of my father. Katrina seemed to notice it, too, as she eyed me up and down.

"Hi, Katrina. I'm Ser-"

"I know who you are," she spat at me. "We look like my dad. I'd be a dumbshit to not know, even if my dad didn't tell me he knocked up some chick. Who is that, is my question." She pointed behind me to JC who was standing quietly, observing the room. He would have lots of opinions about the family dynamic, I was sure.

"Uhm, well... this is-"

"Nevermind. I know JC Chasez when I see him." She swiftly and deftly moved around me and her sisters to JC, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. And long. JC hugged her back, but when she didn't let go, resorted to patting her on the back before he had to step back and put some distance between himself and Katrina.

"Hi, honey," she purred, smiling sweetly, head tilted just slightly, running her hands down his arms until she was limply holding hands with him. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Uhm..." JC swallowed, hard, and glanced at me over her head. "I'm having dinner with... uh... your... my girlfriend's family."

"Ohhhh," she said, drawing out the word, her mouth forming an ‘O' that I am sure she thought was seductive. She looked like a fish. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. She pulled him toward the table and plopped him down in a chair. "I call the chair next to JC," she said, scooting up to the table.

"Well," said Claire, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief. "Since Katrina is here, we can go ahead and eat. Serena, why don't you sit across from JC? I'm sure the girls want to sit on either side of you, don't you girls?"

Dinner was a jumble of several conversations between me and Charles and Claire, me and the girls, and Katrina and JC. She behaved like there was no one else at the table, dominating him for most of the meal. JC seemed unfazed, answering questions as they came, from whomever they came from.

"Is Justin still your friend?"

"Do you know Mario Lopez?

"Have you ever met Lady Gaga?"

"Are you doing a concert here?"

"I thought you liked girls that were younger than you. You're too young to date a woman in her thirties, I think."

I almost choked on my bite of pot roast-not out of anger or jealousy, but from laughing. For all her hair flipping and poking out of her chest and leaning over JC's arm (and possibly running a hand down his leg) making sure her breast just brushed him, if you knew JC and could read him well, he was the furthest from turned on that he could be and was more than slightly amused. I was almost sorry I had brought him, but I gave him plenty of opportunity to back out. And, hey, I couldn't blame her. JC wore a light blue button down shirt that plastered itself to his chest and arms-- which I loved because he always looked like he was busting out of it-- and tight dark blue jeans. He even let me do his hair. My man was looking hot. I'd try and take him, too.

"Katrina," Charles said quietly from his end of the table. "Manners, please." 

She poked the tines of her fork in her mouth and innocently stared at her father, wide eyed. "What, dad? We're just talking."

"You know exactly what. Knock it off. Serena doesn't come to town that often, and we just wanted to have a nice family dinner-"

"Well that's all ruined, since she's nowhere near a part of this family."

"She's my daughter and that makes her a part of this family. If you can't be civil, leave the table."

Leaving the table would involve leaving JC's side. She was, for sure, not doing that. Sulking, she sighed, flipped her hair out of her eyes and muttered, in my direction, "Sorry."

A few tense seconds of silence followed, marred only by the sound of silverware clanging on plates. Charles cleared his throat, and said, "So, JC. I understand you drive an AMG. That's a nice little monster."

He nodded, perking. He loved to talk about his baby. The other one-the car. "Yeah. It's an older model, but you know, if you take good care of a car, there's no need to trade up. She runs really well, still."

"You take that to the dealership a lot, then? Do any service on your own?"

JC grimaced. "Not often. Every once in awhile I do my own oil changes but on these German machines, you don't want to mess too much with it on your own. I'd hate to break something, being cheap."

"Understood, but I make my living off of people breaking things on their cars. Just wondering if it might be worth it to expand into California."

JC and Charles spent a few minutes talking about the pros and cons of bringing a new business to California-LA to be exact. Expanding his Auto Supply franchise to another state would take a lot of work, and would be a big risk. He'd been throwing around the idea for as long as I'd known him.

"Charles," Claire finally said, standing and picking up her plate. "No more shop talk. You're boring the poor guy, I'm sure. Girls, help me clear the table? JC and Serena, we'll serve dessert in the family room in just a couple of minutes. I hope you like chocolate."

"I do love chocolate," JC said. He caught my eye and winked at me as he stood. "I can bring my plate and glass into the kitchen, it's no problem-"

"Let me get that for you, JC." Katrina snatched his plate from his spot at the table and stacked it on top of hers, picked up his glass and silverware and stomped into the kitchen, where she grumbled at her sisters for being in her way.

I led JC to the family room, a cozy, warm sitting area with a widescreen TV and hordes of pictures on the walls. We were nosy, checking out the annual family photos and the standard elementary school pictures.

"Look at those," JC said, pointing toward a lit case next to the TV. "Trophies. Who's the winner in the family?"

I scooted over to them and bent to read the brass name plate. "Let's see... Kathleen Goodreau, Jazz Choir Regionals ‘08," I read. "Kylie Goodreau, Wind Ensemble, Nationals ‘09. Kathleen, Sing Off, '09. Katrina Goodreau, A Capella Festival winner, 09. I think that's where she was last year when I came out. Looks like there some musical talent in the family."

"Why didn't you get any of that? You can't dance or sing." JC did his best to hide a smile but it didn't work. The longer I glared at him, the more he was laughing, until he chuckled outright.

I laughed and smacked his arm lightly. "Dork, maybe the talent is from Claire."

Dessert was homemade chocolate cake, still hot from the oven and giant scoop of vanilla ice cream. JC was flanked by three girls-two preteen and one way too grown-who asked endless questions and wanted to talk to him about everything, including budding music careers. I sat next to Charles on the couch and looked on, strangely proud.

"They're totally jazzed that he's here," Charles said to me. "But let me know if I need to pull them back some."

I nodded over at JC. "He's got it covered. He loves to talk, especially about music."

"So you saw your mom today?"

I nodded, again, turning toward him. "Yeah, I did. She's looking great. Still clean, doing really well. Working, going to school."

"Is she still living with her parents, or..."

"No. No, she recently moved out. I was at her place, today. It's nice. She's doing really well. I'm proud of her."

He nodded, slowly, his lips pressed together. "That's good. That's really good. Now you can live your life, you know?"

"Yes," I answered with a smile and a sigh that I did not realize was relief until it left my body."Yes, I know."

Late into the night, JC and I navigated the steps down the sidewalk, hand in hand. JC carried a small Rubbermaid container of cake. Claire offered and neither of us could refuse. He took the keys from me and pressed the button to unlock the doors, directing me to the passenger side of the car and stepping into the driver's seat. As soon as I was in and buckled, he handed me the container and started the car, then cranked the heat.

Except for the sound of the air vent chugging out slightly cool, but warming air, the car was quiet. It started with a chuckle. A simple breath of, ‘ha.' I responded with a smile, and he chuckled a few times, rubbing his bottom lip, and then broke into full on laughter, which made me laugh.

"Ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. "That guy has trouble on his hands."

"No kidding," I said, laughing with him, wiping tears from my eyes. "There were so many times I wanted to laugh, but I didn't want to piss her off." I sighed, and then added, "She's cute, though. Don't you think?"

"Uhm... yeah." He nodded, looking over at me. "Yeah she's cute. And she knows it. And she wants everyone to know it. That's the problem."

"So you weren't attracted to her at all? No fleeting thoughts of dumping the old hen you're dating and take up with a spring chicken?"

He laughed, nice and hard at that. I appreciated that. "First of all, I don't have the energy for someone that young, anymore. Second, I am very, very taken by an old hen who could teach that spring chicken a thing or two. I'm pretty sure." He leaned onto the center console and puckered his lips for a kiss. He got one. "I'm happy with what I've got."

"You're so sweet to me."

The car was toasty warm, now. JC shifted to reverse and pulled out of the driveway. "Besides, if you take good care of an old hen, there's no reason to trade up."

"You know what, smartass? I'm gonna stop saying you're sweet to me."

"You won't. Cause I won't stop being sweet to you and you won't stop loving that about me."

"Yeah. Well. Whatever." I watched the neighborhood roll by, smiling to myself, trying hard not to squeal with giddy happiness. God, I loved him.

"Dinner was great, anyway. The girls are cute. Pretty talented. Hope they do something with it."

"Mmhmm," I hummed, sliding a hand over his lap and letting it rest on the zipper of his jeans. "I'm happy. Tonight was great. Thank you for being here."

"It was great. Had a good time. Katrina was entertainment, for sure." At a stoplight, he writhed against my hand. I smiled but didn't look at him. "Seems like you're in the mood for some entertainment, yourself."

"You've gotta work off that old hen comment."

"Happily, sweet girl." He pushed the car forward, a little faster than he'd been going before. "Very, very, happily."