I admit, I’d been the one to let her manage things in my life longer than was probably healthy. It wasn’t her fault that her tiara princess had course-corrected and “rebelled,” but it was her fault if she refused to see that I wasn’t coming home anytime soon. And it was my fault if I continued to allow her to affect me so. It was a balancing act—one that we were both learning.

“I saw Charles at the club yesterday,” she said. “He brought a woman there—a date. We barely spoke, though he usually asks questions about you. He’s moving on.”

“That’s good. He should move on. That’s what I’m trying to do too—and your mentioning Charles every time we talk isn’t helping,” I said, feeling anger heat my cheeks. “I’d love it if you never mentioned him again, okay?”

Silence. Well, partial silence. Remember, her eye rolls are audible.

“Fine,” she allowed after a moment.

“Fine,” I agreed.

More silence.

“Did I tell you Molly Adams is getting married? To a congressman, can you believe it! I ran into her mother at the market the other day.”

I listened for another few minutes until I begged off the phone and paced around the house, thinking about my mother being happy there was a man around to help me. Pffft. I was grateful to Lucas, of course; he was a huge help. But the way my mother said it, it was like I couldn’t do a thing without needing some help. Pffft.

Pffft.

As I was pfffting, I looked out the front window, my gaze settling on my car. A gift from my parents when I graduated high school, I’d driven it ever since. Sporty, fun, fast, and a little preppy—I loved that car.

But it wasn’t right for me anymore. I couldn’t have picked up Sammy Davis Jr. this morning without Lucas and his truck. As it was, I couldn’t even haul more than two industrial-size bags of Dog Chow. The car was perfect for San Diego Chloe. But Monterey Chloe needed something different.

Grabbing my keys and my purse, I jumped into the car, dropped the top, and headed down the hill for my last joy ride.

“You did what?” Lucas said, when I came sailing in through the front door of the clinic that afternoon.

“I bought a new car! Come see, come see!” I pulled him through the waiting area by the hand. “Hiya, Marge!”

“Hiya, sugar!” she called back, smiling big when she saw me holding Lucas’ hand. I dropped it quickly, holding the door open for him instead.

“I don’t understand. Why did you get something new?” he asked, his face curious.

“The convertible wasn’t practical anymore—not with what I’m doing now. And I didn’t want to have to call you every time I needed to go get a dog. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I needed something bigger. Something more in line with my new life here, more outdoorsy,” I explained, practically skipping through the parking lot.

He couldn’t help but laugh at my excitement, and followed me through the cars toward the back. “You went by yourself?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“I would have gone with you, you know.”

“Why would I need you to go with me?” I asked, then did my best Ta-Da Pose. “Ta-da!” I sang out, pointing to my new car.

“That’s why,” he sighed, looking at what I’d bought.

A 1989 Suburban. Blue with white paneling. It was a thousand feet long, a thousand feet wide, had actual carpet on the floor, and smelled liked pine.

“Oh, Chloe,” he said, his mouth quirking up at the edges as he struggled not to laugh.

“What? It’s great! Wait until you see how it handles,” I said, tugging at the driver’s-side door, which tended to stick a little.

“So what did you pay for this car?”

“Nothing! I got a great deal on my trade-in and—”

“You traded in your convertible?” He was no longer laughing. “Can I please see the paperwork?”

“Hey, I handled it, it’s no big deal. I looked online at the trade-in value before went in, on that Carrie Blue Book site? And this car was priced at almost exactly what my car was worth! And the best part is, I even talked the guy into giving me free car washes for the entire year. I was all wheely dealy,” I said proudly, climbing into my new car. I slammed the door shut, and then rolled down the window. “Look, manual windows! How cool is that!”

“Very cool. Did you happen to notice it’s leaking under the engine?”

“The guy said it did that sometimes, but was perfectly normal for a car this old. What color is it?”

“Green.”

“Oh, yeah, he said if it did that, to just bring it back; they’ll top something off.”

“Chloe, you really should have taken someone with you,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a piece of shit. They saw a pretty girl with a nice BMW, and they totally took advantage of you. We need to go back and get this straightened out. You can’t keep this car.”

“Like hell I can’t!” I climbed out of the car. He was taking away my buzz and I was started to get pissed. “I know what you think: stupid, pretty Chloe can’t handle her own problems. But I got this, okay? I’m not taking the car back.”

“I’m not trying to start a fight here. Of course you can take care of your own problems. But have you ever done this before? Bought a car?”

“No,” I allowed, the spike of anger giving way as quickly as it came.