And yet her reflection still surprised her, more than twelve months into transition. She’d been on hormones for more than a year, and after all the years of resembling her father, with his thick neck and square shoulders, she now looked more like her mother—crazy how the simple introduction of chemicals could do that. Her breasts weren’t as big as her mom’s—the endocrinologist said they’d never be quite as bountiful as the female members’ of her family from estrogen alone—but still, they were breasts, real breasts. And they were attached to her, grown from her body.

Andrea put on clothes she’d chosen for today—a polka-dotted blouse, skinny jeans that accentuated her narrow hips and butt. She pressed her lips together with a mix of relief and satisfaction. Every single cell in her body had always been Andrea. Now that she could be Andrea every day, it was like she finally got to exhale that gulp of breath she’d been holding for thirty-four years. Not once had she switched back and presented as male. And yesterday—yesterday!—she and Arthur set forth in this new community with her as a mother, presenting herself to all those mothers and letting them get used to it.

Well, with the help of Baileys.

Andrea wasn’t even a drinker most of the time, but she’d been so worked up she’d shoved the liqueur in her purse at the last minute. When she’d gotten to the loft, she’d felt such an intense panic at the other women in the room that she’d almost run out of there. As much as she liked Raisin Beach’s landscape and amenities and climate, the parents she’d come upon were so dedicated and slick and focused and . . . conservative. She’d spied a few cross necklaces. Amid all their bragging about their kids, she’d overheard a group talking about church. A woman with gorgeous blond extensions prattling on about some lifestyle Instagram she ran wore a WWJD bracelet. Andrea didn’t universally condemn religion, per se, but there were lots of times where Jesus and the trans community didn’t mix.

But Ronnie and Lauren had been different—cool, accepting. Thank God they’d been accepting, because she’d put herself out there so fast, her confessions just burbling out of her like lava. But now—well, she couldn’t say she knew them yet, but at least she had allies.

Weird that Ronnie had crossed paths with Jerry Haines, though. Jerry Haines was the reason Andrea chose Raisin Beach over another Southern California town. He had been her family’s lawyer back in New York for a while, though he’d moved out here about ten years before for the better weather. Or perhaps because he was tired of Andrea’s father, Robert Vandermeer, one of the biggest sonuvabitches to walk the earth.