I wish I had a succinct answer, ideally one that would whittle down what happened between us into a few words and shut down this conversation. Dean and I are so much more than a sentence or two, however, and these women are relentless. “It would take forever to explain, but in the end, we’re not a good match. I’m looking for love. Dean isn’t. He wants someone who fits into his perfectly ordered life, and I certainly don’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“Nothing’s ever that simple,” Tia Viviane says. “Emotions are complicated, sweetheart. You don’t always get to choose how you feel about someone. Sometimes your heart makes the decision for you.”

I return her steady gaze. “I get it, Tia. But sometimes your heart doesn’t know what’s best for you, and it’s your job to steer it in the right direction. Choosing to give your all to someone is no small thing. It needs to be absolutely right. If it isn’t, you’re destined for disaster.”

My mother sighs. “You know what your problem is?”

“I wasn’t aware I had a problem,” I say under my breath.

“You do,” my mother replies bluntly. “Solange, you’re scared to make a bad decision because you think it will change the course of your life. But, filha, think about it: Making no decisions can change your life too.” She snags the space between Tia Viviane and me and takes my hand. “I’m not talking about which shoes you’re going to wear. Or what you’re going to eat for breakfast. I’m talking about the important stuff: what you want to do with the gifts you have, who you want to spend your time with, where you want to plant roots. You told me the other day that you don’t want to wake up one morning and discover that you’re stuck.” Mãe squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry to tell you, but—”

I know what she’s getting at, and she’s right: “But I’m already spinning my wheels, aren’t I?”

She nods. “Your father changed my life, yes. But not in the way you think. Filha, he gave me you, and you are the farthest thing from a mistake that I can think of. I’m not trapped, or stuck, or anything else. I’m satisfied with my choices. Can you say the same?”

All I can say is that I’m tired of treating every opportunity or person as a potential booby trap.

“I’ll tell you something else,” my mother continues. “Castle Florists in Rockville offers a floral design class in the fall.” She winks at me. “I’m thinking about taking it.”