The Redemption(40)

“That’s why I came over this morning. There are pictures of you and Dex kissing outside a hotel.”

“No.”

“Yes, there are. And do you know how much that hurt to see? My son has not been gone that long and here you are gallivanting around LA at seedy motels like he never existed.” A tear falls down her cheek.

My body aches, but my mind is stronger. “Janice, I can’t believe you think that. You know I loved Cory.”

“Loved? Past tense? Well, I still love him, present tense, and always will.”

My hand goes to my head as it starts to throb. “You’re twisting my words.”

She steps back, appalled. “Your actions are twisting your reality. You have small children to raise. If you prefer to sleep with a drug-addict playboy, then do so, but I won’t sit by and let my grandchildren bear witness to it.” She walks out, her heels clicking loudly down the corridor.

There’s a pang in my chest, the pain of her words hit me hard. Maybe she’s right. I’m being selfish right now. What am I doing? Choosing to do what I want seems in complete opposite of what I should do for the boys, or does it? Has Dex changed? I mean really changed?

A nurse walks in and asks, “Ms. Floros, I’m Anne. Do you know why you’re here?”

“I’m thinking I had a panic attack, but this one felt more like a heart-attack.”

She leans against the foot of the bed. “I see you’ve taken medicine for them before. The doctor has already called in a new prescription for you.” With her clipboard down at her side, she asks, “Do you know what might have brought this one on? It was severe enough for your loved ones to bring you to the hospital.”

“People were fighting…”

With a small nod of understanding, she asks, “Are there ways to eliminate some of that stress?”

I gulp, then reach for the water pitcher. She comes around and pours a glass for me. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t realize… I’ll give it some thought.”

“Take this seriously, Ms. Floros, and consider ways to reduce stress and conflicts. Those are some common triggers for panic attacks. Make sure to eat healthy and to exercise regularly.” She removes the IV. “Exercise can help reduce the toll that emotional stress can cause. I don’t want to see you back in here again.”

“Does that mean I’m free to go?”

Swabbing the area, she covers it with a small white bandage. “You are. You just need to sign a few forms at the desk first. Your ride is waiting for you at the nurse’s station.”

Wondering who’s waiting for me, I look up and ask, “Who’s my ride?”

She looks down at her clipboard. “Dex Caggiano.”





It’s LA, so the hospital has a private back drive for these types of media situations. I’m thankful for that. We sneak out that way. The dark tinting of his black Bronco keeps the paps on the street from getting any photos worth using when we pass.

We don’t speak until the coast seems clear, then begin to relax though an awkwardness stretches between us that’s never existed before. Pushing through, thinking about what the nurse said, I start, “Dex, we should talk before we get to my house.”

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding resolved. “You might have more paps there, so I shouldn’t stay.”

“I mean, we need to talk about today, the panic attack. Janice. This. Us.”

His hesitation is heard when he replies, “Okay.”

“I can’t hurt her like that. She’s been there for me since Cory’s death. I was there for her. It wasn’t easy, but she was the only one who seemed to truly get how I felt. She’s wonderful to my kids and loves them. I’ve never seen her like she was this morning. She was distraught and I did that to her. I hurt her like that by betraying her.”

“You didn’t betray her by kissing me. She wants you to keep playing the role you’ve played for years—the widow, but you’re more than that, Rochelle. You’re a woman, a mother, a musician, a business manager. You are more than a one-dimensional person. She needs to recognize that. It’s not just about her.”

“I need to focus on my kids, Dex. They don’t have a father. I have to be both mom and dad for them, and lately, I feel like I’m failing.”

“Us dating—”

“I hadn’t had a panic attack in years and now I’ve basically had two in the last two days. Both times were with you. Do you find that coincidental? Because I don’t.”

He pulls over to the side of a street that leads to mine. “You’re building this up in your head like you being happy goes against feeling bad that Cory died. They aren’t related.”

“Janice—”

“Janice is turning what we shared into something bad. You’re letting her into your head.” He takes my hand, holding it as if it might be the last time—firm grip, thumb trying to soothe.

I pull my hand away slowly, leaving all the feelings we were developing behind in the palm of his hand. “The timing is wrong.”

“Bullshit!”

Startled, I jump in my seat.

Lowering his voice, he says, “That’s a cop out. I know you feel something for me. I see how you react because I also feel it when I’m around you. There’s something here and you’re just scared.”