With food on its way, Dominique reached for another batch of pictures. When her phone rang, she thought about not answering it, but it was probably her mother, sister, or son, so she reached for her phone. She looked at the caller ID and was a bit surprised to see an unknown number. She quickly silenced the ringer and put the phone down. It’s a shame they have telemarketers working through the holiday. True, she was at work also, but it was her choice. She returned to the stack of pictures, paying particular attention to a shoot that had been performed in Griffith Park. A bike trail laden with greenery and a bridge across a stream of water caught her eye. She could see herself, decked to the nines—the complexity of fashion set against the simplistic backdrop of nature. Fabulous.

Then another thought came before she could stop it. Of the last time she’d taken in trees, wild flowers, and boulders stacked against a stark, blue sky. It was when she and Jake had taken a drive down a winding road near the ocean in Palos Verdes and later stopped at Wayfarers Chapel, a building made of mostly glass. With hands entwined, they’d taken in the beauty of the well-tended garden and stopped for a passionate kiss between the irises and azaleas. Dominique dropped the pictures and leaned back in her red leather chair. This evoked another memory: Jake and the passionate love they’d made. She leaped from the chair as if on fire, walked quickly to the minifridge and retrieved a cold bottle of sparkling water. She had been a faucet of dripping tears for most of the previous evening. I’m done crying, she told herself. I can do this.

But the truth of the matter was she was tired of doing this: being strong, starting over, surviving heartbreaks.

Her message indicator beeped.

The unknown caller left a message?

Dominique crossed the room and picked up her phone. Walking to the window, she tapped the screen to retrieve the message and after the automated voice informed her that she had one new message, she was all ears.

“Hey, Dominique, this is Cynthia, Johnny’s wife. We, uh, we talked to Jake and heard what happened. We’re thinking about you and wondering how you’re doing. Johnny wants to talk to you. Give us a call, sis. We love you.”