Everything and everybody familiar belongs to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine.

"Dear, Mom," I typed out, but that's all I have so far. This is harder than I thought. What do you say to the woman who gave birth to you, then pretty much gave up on you when you didn't turn out the way she'd planned?

I suppose I could start off by saying, "Sorry I was such a disappointment to you, but it's not like you were mother of the year all the time, either." Yet that sounded too bitter for my liking, and that isn't the tone I'm going for with this email. This is supposed to be an 'I'm happy, I hope you can be too, update, but apparently there are still too many unresolved issues and hurt feelings to make something like a progress report sound casual.

I blew out a breath and relaxed a little further into my chair, looking at the view from my spot on the patio. The water in the pool is almost the same shade of blue as the ocean beyond it and the sky above it. There's palm trees and flowers in bloom everywhere I look, a never-ending supply of warm weather, and plenty of peace and quiet that's only been interrupted by the squeals of a happy child. When a few drops of pool water hit me, I smiled. Not every area of my life is perfect, but this one definitely is.

It got even better when Ranger left Julie in the pool and came over to sit with me. Though my favorite bikini is still completely dry, I didn't hesitate to scoot forward so he could sit behind me on the chaise. His legs settled along the outside of mine and an arm closed around my waist, pulling me back against him. I shivered both from his proximity and the slight chill of his damp skin.

"You've been staring at that screen for ten minutes, Babe, yet you haven't done much else."

"I know. I keep trying to figure out what I should say to her, and just when I think I'm ready to type, I go blank."

He rested one big hand on my bare stomach and slid the other into my hair, kissing the side of my neck to soften his words.

"Maybe because there's really nothing to say," he told me.

His technique is an effective one, since his mouth on me is always distracting.

"She didn't leave much for me to say, did she?" I asked, looking for a little justification to absolve some of the guilt I know I shouldn't feel.

"To me, telling you that you shouldn't come back to the Burg until you have a wedding ring on your finger, doesn't sound like you owe her a damn thing."

I hooked an elbow around his updrawn knee, sighed, then tipped my head back to settle on that comfy spot between his neck and his shoulder.

"I thought she'd give in by now."

"Your mother wants back in the power seat. She's waiting for you to make the first move. It's up to you if you want to risk her upsetting the life you've made now."

That's the problem. I feel stupid for wanting to make contact with my mom - which would most likely disrupt the good thing I've got by opening a door that maybe should've been bolted shut years ago. Yet not speaking to her at all also feels wrong.

"Hey, Dad Number 2! Stephanie!" Julie shouted from the middle of the huge infinity pool. "Are you guys coming in!?"

I could feel Ranger looking at me. "Are we?" He asked.

Spending time with Julie has given me a different perspective on my relationship with my mother. Ranger has said that I've already proven my loyalty to, and my love for, his daughter. And I know I'd go through the Scrog ordeal all over again - or something even worse - without having to think twice about it if it meant saving or protecting Julie. The kicker is, she's not even my kid - biologically or matrimonially - which made my mother's growing indifference towards me all the more confusing.

Sure ... Grandma gets fed up with my mom, but you can tell she loves her only child. Some days, I still question whether my mom actually loves me or only tolerates me because she's been told she has to. The fact that she gave me an ultimatum and hasn't once tried to reach me to take it back or even attempt to resume the grin and bear it relationship we've developed, had me thinking that nothing is ever going to matter to my mother as much as appearances or outside opinions.

I guess I have the answer to my earlier question ... I shouldn't say anything to my mom. And that conclusion gave me an answer to the question Ranger just asked me. I put aside my link to the outside world and stood, holding out my hand for him to take.

"Yep," I told him. "Last one in buys dinner." And I made a run for it.

He caught up to me in two long-legged strides, and then tossed me into the water I'd been staring at earlier, close to where Julie was busy laughing at us. I floated to the surface just in time to watch Ranger's perfect body make a perfect dive in after me. I know I made the right decision, not only with not sending my mom an email, but by moving to Miami with Ranger in the first place. I do have family here ... despite what my mom continues to believe.