Coming Home to Love (Lakeside Porch Series Book 2) by Katie O'Boyle Page B

that used to be a sugar packet. “I can’t forgive myself for what I’ve done.”
    “You mean the drunk driving accident?”
    Gianessa nodded, and her eyes filled with tears.
    “I’m pretty sure you know how to forgive yourself,” Carol corrected. “I think you just can’t let go of what you’ve lost.”
    The tears spilled over.
    “How can I possibly let go of my little girl?” she whispered. When her teardrops hit the tabletop, Gianessa reached into her tote bag for a pack of tissues.
    To Carol’s surprise, Gianessa made no effort to dry her eyes or take care of her runny nose. Instead, she wiped the teardrops from the table and methodically put the thirty-two tiny squares of paper into the tissue and folded it neatly.
    If she puts that into her tote I’m going to make her see a psychiatrist . At times like this Carol wished she still smoked.
    “I am so torn,” Gianessa said in a whisper.
    Carol eyed the tissue with the torn paper. No kidding .
    “If I let them go, Les and Isabella, what do I have left?”
    Carol said gently and with conviction, “Yourself. Your gifts, your skills, and all the warmth and love that made you want to be a wife and mother in the first place.”
    Gianessa shook her head. “I’ve destroyed that part of me.”
    “No, Gianessa. Your addiction destroyed your life with Les and Isabella. But I believe, deep inside, you still have the love, the instincts, the desire to be a wife and mother. The question is, do you have the courage to let go of what’s gone and open yourself to love and commitment in the present and the future?”
    Gianessa squinted at her as if she were speaking another language. Slowly, comprehension dawned. “Is that why I’m fighting so hard to hang on to them, even when I know they’re lost forever? Because I still want a loving relationship and children?”
    “I think so.” Carol waited a beat. “Of course I’m not a therapist, and I’m not you.”
    “I am so afraid of failing again. I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed another marriage or lost another child due to my addiction.”
    “That’s honesty. Good for you.”
    “I have so much fear and anger toward myself.”
    “And you will work through that one day at a time, as you explore new relationships and take on new challenges.”
    Gianessa’s eyes were dark with doubt. “That is scary. It’s easier to beat myself up about my failure than to . . .”
    “Than to what?”
    With a secretive smile, Gianessa picked up the neatly folded tissue with the neatly torn sugar packet, and made her way to the trash.
    When she came back to the table, the soft smile was gone. Back in place was the apprehension.
    What the hell? “How did it feel to let go of that?”
    “Scary.”
    “You know, you had a sexy little smile going before you left the table.”
    Gianessa gaze met hers and then darted off, seeking but not finding a safe place to focus.
    “Fess up, kiddo. Is there a nice man in your life? Is that where all this is coming from?”
    Gianessa’s laugh was tentative. “I’d say ‘interesting.’ There’s an interesting man in my life, and he’s interested in more than cooking together.”
    Carol shifted in her chair. “And that scares you. Tell me about this man. What are you cooking up together?”
    “Gluten-free meals. He’s made a commitment to gluten free, and he’s learning strategies for eating out and meal planning. We’ve seen each other a few times. He’s slowly getting well and strong again.”
    “So this is a professional relationship that he wants to become personal?”
    Gianessa’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
    “Or it’s already personal, and he wants it to be sexual?”
    Gianessa’s face flamed. “You know, you’re very good.” She laughed.
    Carol probed, “Is this someone you might want to get serious about?”
    “Heavens no. He’s . . .” She sighed and her brow knit with bafflement.
    “Tell me about him. Is he cute?”
    “Handsome. He’s