I stood up and went over to the dresser, catching my reflection in the mirror. I’d tried to disguise the evidence of my sleepless night with makeup, but I still looked pale and puffy-eyed. My hands trembled. “I just can’t handle it, Frannie. I’m not ready.”

She sighed. “Okay. I’m not going to pressure you. I’m only going to say this once, then I’ll shut up. If you’re going to push Henry away for the sake of your kids, I get it. Single parents have to do that sometimes. But if you’re using the kids as an excuse to push him away because you’re scared to let someone in—”

“I’m not doing that.” I spun around and faced her. Gulped. “Much.”

She shook her head. “Right.”

“Put yourself in my position, Frannie,” I pleaded. “If you had to walk a mile in my shoes, you wouldn’t do things any differently. You would protect your kids . . . and yourself.”

“It’s hard to argue with you when you put it like that. I just want you to be happy, Sylvia.”

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “I’m working on it.”

Rising to her feet, she came over and hugged me. Then she took my arm and tugged me toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go have some nachos and a margarita.”

* * *

The next few days passed by in a blur. The house in Santa Barbara sold for over asking price, and I made arrangements to return to California to pack it all up and ship things here within thirty days. The kids and I looked at eight different houses for sale and ended up making an offer on one—a refurbished farmhouse on two and a half acres about ten miles from Cloverleigh. I purchased an SUV, scheduled appointments for Whitney and Keaton at the therapist’s, and took them school supply shopping.

And I didn’t stop thinking about Henry for one second.

But I still hadn’t been able to face the idea of seeing him yet. I knew I was putting off a conversation I didn’t want to have. And part of me was scared that once I laid eyes on him, I wouldn’t be strong enough to give him up. My feelings for him hadn’t changed—I wanted to be with him.

On the final Saturday night of winter break, Frannie brought the girls over for one final vacation sleepover. “How are you?” she asked as she was leaving. “Lots going on, huh?”

“I can’t even tell you. My brain is fried.” I stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

“I can’t wait to see the house.”

“I really do love it. Needs work, of course, but it’s perfect for us.”

“Are the kids nervous about starting school?”

“A little. But excited. We drove by both schools today. They seem okay.”

“You get them appointments with that therapist yet?”