My boss hasn’t answered my texts. I’m hoping he found the files I uploaded. But what if he didn’t?

I’m driving myself crazy and how I wish I could just make everything disappear.

What if I just stay in Cancun for the rest of my life?

Nineteen

Claire

As I drag my sorry ass out of customs, I see them, Mom and Dad. Mom’s holding a bouquet of balloons and Dad has a sign that says, Welcome Claire Bear. Any other day I’d feel a little annoyed because it looks like they are waiting for some child, but I’m thankful to have them.

After all, I’m the baby of the house. Dad always says, “You’ll always be my little girl, no matter how old you pretend to be.”

The sadness I’ve been carrying around melts as I hug them. There’s nothing better than having your parents love and support.

Dad takes my bags while Mom fusses all over me. “You look thinner, did you eat at all?”

“Mom,” I protest. “Of course I ate.”

“Did you apply sunscreen every two hours?”

I’m about to open my mouth when she points at me. “Do not lie to me, Claire. I know you pretty well.”

“I tried my best,” I confess with a shrug.

Telling her my age and how I should be allowed to do as I please will only make me sound ungrateful. Which I’m not. After the weekend with the Archers, I think I understand my parents more. They just want the best for us, no matter how old we are.

Our drive home doesn’t take long, which puzzles me because my house is almost an hour away. When I look at my surroundings, I smile. Pine trees, a red barn, and a flower garden. My parents on an acre of land on the outskirts of the suburbs. It’s great because they live close enough to downtown Denver but far enough away they can have horses, chickens, and even a couple of alpacas.

Mom insists it’s to keep Dad busy since he retired a couple of years ago. It’s a nice story, but really she’s always wanted to have a farm-to-table setup. I miss our old house, but I like the place where they live. It fits them.

Wait, what happened to them taking me home?

“Mom, my apartment is twenty minutes from here,” I say when Dad opens the passenger door to help me out.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says, getting out of the car.

Oh boy, mind what?

I jump out of the car and follow her. What did she do? Sublet my apartment and moved me in with her?

“Mom?”

She opens the door to their house, and Thomas jumps out yelling, “Surprise!”