"I did." I'm wistful for a moment, remembering the good times. It was always in my plans to leave that job eventually, so I'm not completely bereft about it. "I've also been growing a travel blog for years and it's become a full-time job in and of itself, so I'll be focusing exclusively on that now."

"Fun! I love to travel. I traveled a lot with my parents. Not as much with Kyle but we always go somewhere during my Christmas break. Usually skiing…" She stops abruptly, halfway to taking a bite of a tiny little tart topped with a strawberry. "Of course we don't have to," she says as if she's just realized things have changed a bit. "Maybe you hate skiing, or traveling in winter."

"I've never been skiing, actually. But even if I hated it I'd happily wait at the lodge sipping a cup of hot cocoa while you and Kyle skied. I'm open to whatever sounds fun."

God, I kinda sorta have a stepdaughter. How did this not really occur to me before now? I feel a huge weight of responsibility looking at Kerrigan's eager, worried face. I wonder how Kyle felt taking this on all by himself? Heck, she's eighteen now, so she's an adult. Imagine what he felt when she was just a kid? But she's still just a kid, really. I think of myself at eighteen and imagine how I'd feel if I'd had no parents.

I'd feel lost.

I'm going to be so pregnant this Christmas. I'm due in February, so by December I'll be the size of Tubbs-McGee. Definitely no skiing for me, but I can still fly through December, I think. I nibble on my bottom lip and make a mental note to look this up later while I assure Kerrigan we can all go skiing or make new traditions. She relaxes a bit and I wonder if that's partly what this lunch was about for her. To feel me out, see where she stood in this new family dynamic.

"How are you going to blog about travel from Philadelphia?" she asks once she's polished off the strawberry tart.

Good question. I have a momentary twinge of unease that my plan is terrible and I'll end up a barefoot and pregnant housewife. In a multi-million-dollar condo. Boo-freaking-hoo, right?

Except I've put a lot of work into this blog and it means a lot to me.

"Well…" I steeple my fingers in front of me while I explain my plans. "Luckily for me the Northeast is huge. I can shift the focus of the blog to Northeast activities, like skiing for example. Or seeing a Broadway show in New York. Or weekend trips to Vermont. There's an endless source of material within a few hours of Philadelphia. A lot of my revenue comes from sponsored posts on Instagram too, and I can grow that audience in a lot of different ways. I'll figure it out."

"Cool," Kerrigan replies. "I can help, if you want. When I'm not in school and Kyle's busy or whatever."

"I'd love that."

"I'm so glad Kyle found you. I think he was worried he was never going to find you, and now here you are."

"Here I am," I agree. She's such a romantic, this one. I was jaded and acting like an idiot at her age. Drinking too much at college parties, hanging out with guys who were not worth my time. I find myself wanting to nurture this sweetness in her instead of teaching her all the ways to get up to no good, like I always did with Violet.

I don't know if I'm turning into a mom right before my eyes or just growing up. Or both.

18

Daisy

I’m going to snoop around my husband’s office. I hadn't planned on it, not really. It wasn't a premeditated snoop, it's just that I've found myself across the street from his office.

No, really.

Honestly.

I was minding my own business, walking down 18th, camera in hand, intent on taking pictures of whatever caught my interest. I was planning on cutting over to Love Park, spending a couple of hours taking shots for Instagram and researching nearby coffee shops, that kind of thing. Except when I got to the intersection where I was going to turn, I looked up and realized that Kyle's office was straight ahead. Hardly out of my way. It seemed sort of serendipitous, no? My feet thought so because I didn't make my turn. Instead I crossed the street and found myself standing in front of a skyscraper with KINGSTON hanging over the entrance in great big letters, INCORPORATED hanging beneath in letters half the size. I assume they're backlit at night and probably heavy enough to crush a semi if any were to fall off.

Not that they look like they're going to fall. They look secure, permanent. The font screams reliable and trustworthy in slim, stylish uppercase letters.

Did you know a font could do all that? Took me forever to pick the right font for my blog. One that said, ‘Take travel recommendations from me, I'm fun but serious.’ The wrong font and people expect to read about spring break deals instead of recommendations for a girls’ weekend on a budget or a couples’ hideaway in Vermont. The wrong typeface and your branding goes to shit.

Two sets of automatic doors flank the entrance and I glide through the one nearest to me with the same ease as I do when I'm stepping into a KINGS to pick up toilet paper and a case of La Croix.

It occurs to me a brief moment later that I'm not walking into a supercenter and I won't be able to find Kyle in aisle twelve.

Idiot, I chastise myself as my steps slow to a halt.

I'd turn around and leave but the lobby is smaller than you'd expect it to be. There's a reception desk straight ahead with three employees behind it. One of them is checking someone in, the other two are staring at me expectantly.

I feel like I've been down this path before. I smile briefly in the direction of the receptionist desk then step out of the way and pull out my cell phone.

Daisy: I'm in the lobby. Are you busy?

Brilliant, Daisy, simply brilliant. Of course he's busy. He's at work. Working. My fingers are hovering over the keypad ready to tell him to forget it but he's already typing. I watch the text bubble.

Husband McBaby-Daddy: In a meeting. Someone is on their way down to get you. Don't leave.

Daisy: Okay.

I pocket my phone and twiddle my thumbs for a few minutes while studiously examining a bunch of old photos on the wall. Company history type of photos. There's an old black-and-white of the first store that opened in Willow Grove in 1965. Another photo of the five thousandth store opening in Boise, Idaho two years ago. Kyle is in this photo, standing in front of the store with his grandfather beside him. I wonder if he'll expect this baby to work in the family business one day? What if they don't want to? Kerrigan mentioned that she interned here last summer. I wonder if that cousin works here too? The one who insinuated I was a hooker... Wyatt. What if this baby wants to be a lion tamer or a doctor?

"Mrs Kingston?"

I turn, realizing as I do it's the first time anyone has referred to me as Mrs Kingston and I think they had to say it twice because I wasn't responding. Oops. It's a young man, about my age. He introduces himself as Kyle's assistant, James, and within a few minutes has me to Kyle's office. As we approach, the door opens and Kyle ushers a small group out then holds out a hand in my direction, beckoning me over.

"You have a meeting with the group from Clemens in twenty-two minutes," James tells him as Kyle shuts the door behind us. Haha. Twenty-two minutes. I love how precise James is. We bonded on the elevator when I tried to get him to tell me if Kyle was an asshole to work for, to which he looked at me with wide eyes like it was a trick question until I said, "Relax, I'm not a snitch." Then we both burst out laughing.