This story is dedicated with all my love to Victoria, the strongest and most beautiful woman I know. I am here for you, always.

Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr. groans. His cells phone is ringing. Again.

He lets out a tired sigh before answering. "Hello?"

"It's about time you answered. What took you so long?"

He immediately recognizes the Brooklyn accent and that tone of voice. "Ma, this is a busy week for me. You know that. I don't have time to be on the phone." He glances at the clock. Fifteen minutes till he has to be at Madison Square Garden for sound check.

"Don't pull that superstar bullshit with me, young man, or I'll fly up there and really give you something to fuss about. So, did you call her?"

Ah, there it is. He knows his mother has some sort of agenda, as all mothers do. He swallows before laying his cards on the table. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't."

"Call her, Joseph."

"Why? Why are you so adamant about this?" he asks, his voice rising. He stands and runs a hand over his tired face. "I know you're close to her mother and all, but you can't force me into doing something I'm not comfortable with. I'm an adult, and perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I haven't spoken to her in ten years, Ma, and I just don't feel like doing it. Why can't you just accept that?"

There is a brief pause before his mother speaks up again. "Call her, Joseph."

He sighs, knowing there's no way he's going win this battle. He checks the time again. Five minutes. "Give me one good reason why. One good reason."

"Cancer."

He rings the doorbell, shifting his weight back and forth from the right to the left. "Maybe no one's home," he mumbles to himself, less than satisfied with that possibility. If he's going to get reamed for jumping sound check and catching the train to Brooklyn, he wants to make sure the trip is worth it.

He's just about to turn around and admit defeat when the door opens. "May I help you?"

He removes the hat and glasses, smiling nervously. "Hello, Mrs. Nuzzo," he greets the older woman.

She stares at him for a few moments before her mouth drops in recognition. "Jozep!" She embraces him. "Please, come in. It's a surprise to see you. A good one, but a surprise nevertheless."

He clears his throat, eyes wandering around the house. The decor is different, but the house still has that same warm feeling. "Yeah, well, we're in New York for the next couple of days, so I thought I'd drop by. Is . . . is Angela home?"

The corners of Mrs. Nuzzo's mouth turn up in a small smile. "As a matter of fact, she is. Go on up; she's in her room. You remember the way, right?"

He nods, then turns to climb the creaky stairs. The second one from the top still makes that same weird noise, and he smiles at the familiarity of it all.

Her bedroom door is straight ahead, slightly ajar. Uncertain if he should be there, he peaks in to assess the situation. She's sitting up in bed, engrossed in a book, the latest in the Harry Potter series. A pair of reading glasses rest on the bridge of her nose, and her brown curls are pulled up into a sloppy ponytail.

"Don't hover. Either get in or beat it," she says, her eyes never leaving the page.

He pushes the door open, giving him room enough to lean against the frame.

She looks up over her glasses when she hears the door open. Her expression is neutral. "Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in."

Joey stands there in shock. For perhaps the first time in his life, he finds that he is speechless.

"What? Did it catch your tongue before it dragged you in here?"

"N--no. No. It's, uh, good to see you, Angie."

She sets her bookmark before snapping the book closed and placing it on the nightstand. She carefully lays her glasses on top of the novel. She nods and then looks up at him. "So, what brings you back to the neighborhood?"

"You, actually."

"Oh?"

"I heard you were sick."

"I see. Well, tell your mom I'm fine and that her ploy to make me her daughter-in-law didn't work."

"My mother is past all that now. And are you really fine?" he asks. Tired of waiting to be invited in he walks into her room, sitting on the end of her bed.

"Don't lie to me, Joe, 'cause I don't think either one of our mothers are past all that. And yes, I really am fine. I went to the gynecologist yesterday, the procedure was simple, and everything's taken care of."

"Gynecologist?"

"It was cervical cancer."

"Oh," he says, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap.

"So, you got some major shows this week," she says, stating the obvious but eager to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah. It's a bit nerve-wracking, but mostly exciting."

"Not that I don't appreciate you stopping by, but shouldn't you be at the Garden, or something, instead of hanging around Bensonhurst?"

"Yeah, but I conned Lance into covering for me so I could skip sound check."

"Joey!" She starts to giggle. "It's bad enough you skipped sound check. Now you're bringing your friends down with you?"

Her laughter is contagious, and Joey's lips form a smile. "It's just Lance. One friend. I have others. Besides, he's a big softie when it comes to old friends reuniting."

Her tone becomes a bit more serious. "Is that what this is? A reunion?"

He shrugs. "If you want it to be, sure."

"Not for nothing, Joe, but it would've been nice if it took place a Hell of a lot sooner. It's not like this is the first you made it back to New York since your family moved to Florida ten years ago. Why stop by now?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course. You know you can't lie to me anyway."

He looks down at his hands again and takes a deep breath before answering. "For selfish reasons, really. Ma was nagging the Hell out of me to get in touch with you. And I was pretty much dead-set against it simply 'cause I didn't want to give her the satisfaction."

"And then she told you I was sick," she interrupts, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Yeah." He clears his throat before continuing. "Made me think I should have tried harder, made more of an effort, to keep in touch."

"Oh, please. Don't go and start feeling all guilty on me. People grow apart, Joey. And we were living in two different states. It was bound to happen."

"I suppose."

"None of this 'I suppose' crap. What's done is done. But I'm glad you stopped by. Really. And you look great. Did I tell you that already? 'Cause you do, you know. You look great." She offers him a comforting smile and moves closer so she can place a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks," he says, returning the smile. "And so do you, look great, that is," he tells her, reading her T-shirt. Fordham University Alumni. He shakes his head and his smile widens. "Fordham University. Unbelievable. I don't know whether to hug you or knock you up the side of the head. I mean, the Bronx? What were you thinking, Angie?"

"I'm thinking, A, a hug would feel a Hell of a lot better than being knocked up the side of the head. And B, I really wanted to go to college."

Joey smiles before embracing Angie. "I really couldn't be prouder of you, you know."

"Same here. Do you realize how lucky we are? I mean, how many people can say their dreams came true?"

"Not many."

His eyes wander around the room, finally stopping at her dresser. His jaw drops in surprise. "I can't believe you still have it," he whispers. He pulls back and stands up, walking towards the dresser. In a vase is a dried rose. Next to it is a framed picture. He and Angie are smiling 13-year-old smiles with an arm around each other's shoulders.

"Of course," she replies, standing next to Joey with her focus on the rose and the picture. "I hung it upside down to dry the day after you left."

Joey smiles. "Did you really?"

"You know better than anyone that underneath it all I'm a sap," she says, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Brown eyes meet brown eyes, and he smiles at her. "Yeah, you always were the queen of sappiness."

"Look who's talking! You're not exactly Mr. Tough Guy. You have your soft spots, too."

He picks up the frame and studies the picture closely. "Yeah, mainly you."

She turns her head, studying his profile. His jaw is set and his gaze never wavers from the picture. "Someone else has that spot now, huh?"

"I--I . . . " He shakes his head slightly. "I'm not sure. I think so."

"You think so?"

"It's hard, ya know? And things don't always work out the way I'd like them to." He places the frame back on the dresser. "Sometimes I think it was a mistake, that nothing ever happened between us."

"Nah . . . it was probably meant to be." When she sees the small frown on his face, she's quick to explain. "Think of it this way. I'm a fixture of your past, but also a part of your future. You may think something should've happened between us, and you also know that it won't. But all that's going to make you appreciate her that much more." An arm slides around his waist. "See how it plays out. I'll still be here either way."

He nods his head, then whispers, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She smiles and looks at the clock on her nightstand. "Call me the motherly type, but don't you have a show to do?"

"Yes, Mom." He turns to look at her and smiles. "Thanks for letting me stick around."

"Oh, please! You don't have to say thank you. The door was always open when you lived down the block, and it still is." She embraces him once more. "Take care of yourself, and take a few chances, too, Jozep."

"Get some rest, Angelina, and I'll see you soon." He gently kisses her forehead before turning and walking out the door.

"One down, three to go," Joey thinks to himself as he grabs the towel and wipes the sweat from his face. He and the guys walk into the dressing room, and he flops on couch, exhausted from the night's performance.

"Hey, Joe! There's something here for ya!" JC shouts from the other side of the dressing room.

"Bring it over. I'm too tired to move."

"Nah, I think you should come over and see this for yourself."

With a small grunt Joey gets off the couch and walks over to stand next to JC. "What--" The sight of what's on the table prevents him from completing his sentence.

In a vase is a single, yellow, long-stemmed rose. A card is propped up against it, and he immediately recognizes the handwriting on the envelope. He picks up the card, removes it from the envelope, and smiles as he reads:

Jozep,

"Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows, lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose."

Angelina