“I want to be there. I don’t belong here.” I know how much it means to the people I met today to have me here, but I’m not one of them. You can slap whatever name you want on me—Cardiff, McMullen—but it doesn’t automatically make us a family. I’m the person Dad raised me to be. I can’t change because I now live somewhere else. Sharing DNA doesn’t automatically make you a family.

I hear voices in the background asking about me. Marian shushes them, and then I hear her walking up the stairs. There’s an excited bark.

“How’s Baxter?” I ask, and the injustice of it all breaks me. Sure, Paula now gets her daughter, but what do I get?

Nothing.

I get nothing.

“Baxter is good. No surprise that we can’t help but spoil him rotten. Next time you see him, he’s going to be so fat. Right, Baxter?” Baxter barks in response.

“I’m getting an iPhone tomorrow, so we can FaceTime.”

“I hope you get a good package, because we are going to have to FaceTime every day.”

“Every second.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice. We were all freaking out when we saw the news reports from the airport. Uncle Brian was beyond angry someone tipped the media off.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t watched the news or googled “Amanda Linsley” since I arrived. I don’t want to know what’s being said. I hope that the press will eventually move on to a different target. Paula and the sheriff here talked about releasing yet another statement asking for my privacy. All I know is that I don’t feel comfortable being out in public with the media vultures circling. Not like I see myself feeling okay about anything ever again.

“How did you end up leaving the airport without being discovered?”

I tell her about my grandmother and then about the party. And Sarah.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” Marian’s voice, which is usually full of life and bubbly, is strained. “I’m sure she just needs time.”

“I know.” I think that’s what we all need. But will I really wake up one day and be okay with everything? Or will it happen little by little? All I know is that when I have woken up every morning since this all began, I have a few seconds when I don’t realize what’s happened. For a few precious seconds I can convince myself that it was a horrendous nightmare. When I finally remember that no, it’s real, I feel even worse. Every day it gets worse. Every day there’s a new revelation.