Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
RHEA
As the band and I finish putting on the finishing touches to the Belvedere Studio, the village grows excited with us. The guys don’t exactly hide the studio, but they’re selective about who’s allowed inside the circle to see what we’ve been up to and all the results from our labor of love.
Each day brings a new kind of project as another smaller one comes to an end. The construction timeline of the studio has been extended since we asked Leslie to join us and help transform the space into something better than we could have ever dreamed of.
Gray attends his three meetings a week, and if he needs more, he also attends those. He remains in close contact with his sponsor, Xavier, who’s been an amazing influence and mentor to Gray.
“He’s more... solid, I guess. Like he's really here instead of just going through the motions.” Emma observes as we watch Gray through Mountain Morning’s window, loading equipment into his truck.
I pause, letting Emma's words linger.
Did they see it too?
Gray is more involved in being present for everyone in his life, including himself. I recalled the early days when his struggles overshadowed us. His determination now fills me with hope and pride. His strength lifts me up, brightening each day.
“Two hundred and twelve days,” I say without thinking, then catch myself. “Not that I'm counting.”
“Of course you're not,” Emma grins, wiping down the espresso machine.
As I open my mouth to respond, our quiet morning is suddenly interrupted. The door bursts open, and Leslie makes a dramatic entrance, carrying what appears to be fabric samples and a clipboard.
“Ladies, I need your aesthetic opinions immediately,” he announces, spreading swatches across our counter like he's conducting a military operation.
“My new house is finally ready for window treatments, and I'm torn between the sage green with gold accents or the dusty blue with silver. It's a matter of utmost importance.”
Leslie's house purchase, located down the street from the studio, took place last week, delighting every business owner on Main Street.
The cottage house sits perfectly between Mountain Mornings and Mrs. Chen's bookstore on the opposite side of the street, its rustic charm enhanced by a creaking porch and the pine-scented air.
He's covered the porch with hanging plants and “welcoming feng shui elements,” making it a vibrant spot in our village.
“Sage green,” Emma and I say simultaneously.
“See, this is why I value your opinions. You have instinctive design sensibilities.” Leslie carefully folds the blue fabric and tucks it away. “Speaking of which, I need to warn you both that I'm having houseguests this weekend. Old musician friends of mine who might be a bit... colorful.”
“Colorful how?” I ask because with Leslie, this could mean anything from mildly eccentric to completely outrageous.
“Well, Kip Knox is a rock star with all the subtlety of a neon sign and the mouth of a sailor on shore leave. And his girlfriend, Henley, is equally vivacious. They're wonderful people, and they tend to make an impression.”
“More rock stars here in Dogwood Hollow? Anyone we'd know?” Emma perks up with interest.
“Kip's band is Broken Access, and Henley fronts Abandoned Shadow. They're both quite successful, though Kip's success has more to do with his talent than his ability to behave in polite society.”
Before I can ask more about Kip and Henley, my phone buzzes with a text from Gray.
Gray: Xavier wants to meet you. Coffee after my session today?
The message makes my heart skip. Gray's sponsor, Xavier, plays a crucial role in his recovery. Wanting to meet me feels significant.
Rhea: I'd love to. Is everything okay?
Gray: Better than okay. Tell you more later.
“Good news?” Leslie asks, reading my expression.
“Gray's sponsor wants to meet me.”
“Oh, Suga Boo Boo, that's huge.” Leslie claps his hands together as if he has personally orchestrated this development. “Sponsors don't suggest meeting loved ones unless they think the relationship is healthy and supportive. It's like getting approval from the recovery gods.”
The rest of my morning at Mountain Mornings passes quickly, filled with customers and anticipation for the upcoming meeting with Xavier.
By three, when Gray picks me up, I’m buzzing with nervous energy.
A small voice wonders if this time is different.
Is the progress real? I breathe deeply, centering myself with small rituals that calm me, from counting breaths to tracing the outline of my cup.
This time, I push aside my doubts and focus on our momentum.
“Relax.” He squeezes my hand as we drive toward Dahlonega. “Xavier's great. He's been wanting to meet you for weeks, but we wanted to make sure we were in a good place first.”
“Are we? In a good place?” Why am I doubting it when he just told me we are?
Gray pulls into the parking lot of a small coffee shop and turns to face me fully. “Rhea, we're in the best place we've ever been. Individually and together. Xavier sees that, and he wants to meet the woman who's been such a positive part of my recovery.”
Xavier Hernandez turns out to be a gentle man in his fifties, with kind eyes and the calm presence of someone who has found peace after a long struggle.
“Rhea,” he says warmly, standing to shake my hand when we enter the coffee shop. “Gray talks about you constantly. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”
We settle into a corner booth. Our talk is the most honest I’ve had about addiction, recovery, and loving a person who’s rebuilding their life.
“Rhea, loving someone in recovery means supporting them without losing yourself. Be a lighthouse, guiding but not steering.”
Xavier warns about the “rescuer” trap, where helping becomes enabling. Through his stories, I learn to trust Gray’s progress, while still taking care of myself.
“Gray's made remarkable progress,” Xavier tells me, stirring his coffee thoughtfully. “But more importantly, he's learned to separate his recovery from his relationship with you. That's crucial.”
“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion.
“Early in recovery, it's common for people to make their sobriety about getting someone back or keeping someone happy. But sustainable recovery has to be about the person themselves.” Xavier glances at Gray with obvious pride.
“Gray's doing the work because he wants to live, not because he wants to win you back.
That's the difference between recovery that lasts and recovery that doesn't.”
“She never left, even when she had every right to. She just waited for me to find my way back to myself,” Gray tacks on.
“That takes incredible strength,” Xavier says to me. “And incredible wisdom to know the difference between supporting someone and enabling them.”
Our conversation covers warning signs, support, and how to help Gray’s recovery without taking responsibility for it. By the time we leave, I feel I've been given a roadmap for loving someone in recovery while maintaining my own wholeness.
“Thank you for taking care of him and for helping me understand how to do the same,” I tell Xavier as we prepare to leave.
“Take care of each other but take care of yourselves first. That's the secret to making it work.” Xavier throws up a hand in a wave as he turns to head to his car in the parking lot.
On the drive back to the village, Gray is unusually quiet, and I can sense he has something on his mind. Xavier’s advice stands out long after we part ways.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
“Xavier thinks I'm ready,” he blurts out like he might implode if he doesn’t.
“Ready for what?”
“To start thinking about our future. Really thinking about it. Marriage, family, all of it.” He glances over at me, wearing a vulnerable expression. “What do you think?”
My mind drifts to an image of a sunlit porch swing swaying slightly under tiny feet, laughter dancing softly in the air.
A wave of warmth and longing washes over me at the thought.
The idea of planning a future with Gray would’ve terrified me six months ago, but now it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“I think I'd like to hear what you're thinking about when you think about our future,” I answer carefully.
“I'm thinking about a life where music, mountains, and morning coffee are all equally important. Where we support each other's dreams without losing ourselves in them. Where reformation is just part of how we live, not the center of everything we do.” Gray is the only man I’ve ever known to speak so poetically when he’s passionate.
I tear up at the picture he paints of our future together. “That sounds perfect.”
“It does, doesn't it?” Gray's smile is soft and hopeful. “Xavier says the best relationships in recovery are the ones where both people keep growing, individually and together.”
“Smart man.” I really like that he has Xavier in his life.
The conversation naturally shifts to another topic when both of our phones chime with a text message at the same time.
“What in the world?” Who would be messaging us both at the same time?
Pulling my phone from my purse, the screen comes to life with an alert from none other than Uncle Leslie. I read it and relay his message to Gray. “Apparently, Kip Knox and Henley Hendrix are in town, and Leslie thought we might want to connect.”
After an easy drive back to the village, Gray and I step out of the truck and instantly spot Leslie waiting on his front porch, signaling the start of the weekend's gathering.
“Perfect timing!” Leslie waves us over. “Kip and Henley just arrived, and they're dying to meet you both.”