“Happy Anniversary to you.

Happy Anniversary to you.

Happy Anniversary, Camden Waters.

Happy Anniversary to you.”

I look at Brooklyn over the top of my dark shades. “That’s how you sing the birthday song, dumbass.”

He unloads the box from his shoulder onto the floor. “Fuck you, fucker,” he says and adds the two-handed one-finger salute. “It’s close enough.”

The laughter rolls out of me. “You really should stay for Thanksgiving.”

He shrugs. “Nah, I have some things to do.”

“Well, if you change your mind, come over tomorrow.”

His nod tells me he has no intention of changing his mind. It’s the open road, his video camera, and that manuscript he’s been working on for him.

It’s scary how well I know him.

Hard to believe one year ago, I moved to this beach town with nothing but a duffle bag and a bad attitude. I knew one person, Brooklyn James, my best friend’s younger brother—well, half-brother. Lucky for me he’d recently rented a house on the beach and invited me to move in with him. And even luckier for me, I did. The fucker went out of his way to help me out. He hooked me up with a job, showed me the lay of the land, and introduced me to Maggie. And as they say in the movies…the rest is history.

But let’s not give him too much credit or it will go to his head, and it’s already big enough because of his movie-star good looks.

“Is that it?” I ask, glancing around the bedroom that used to be Makayla’s, but is now Brooklyn’s.

“That’s it,” he says, plopping on his bed and unrolling his pack of cigs. “Operation musical houses is complete.”

Walking past him to the door, I slap a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, bro. Thanks for doing this.”

Pounding a cigarette out, he sticks it into his mouth and then slants a glance at me. “Oh, dude, you are so going to owe me for this.”

I stop at the door and turn around. “Anything, anyplace—you name it.”

He points that cigarette my way and gives me one of his famous Brooklyn smiles. You know, the kind that can light up a Christmas tree, or so the girls say. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

“My word, man.” I thump my heart with my first.

In return, I get one of those California slow, you better believe I’ll take you up on it nods.

I’m so fucked.

Downstairs, Maggie is busy in the kitchen…with her new boyfriend. Abraham, I think, or maybe it’s Abel. Not sure. Some biblical name, anyway.

I clear my throat. “How’s that pumpkin pie coming for tomorrow?” I ask in amusement. It must have a little bit of tongue and a dash of saliva, because they are making out hot and heavy, tongues and all.

Fuck, Brooklyn is screwed.

Maggie breaks away from her guy. “I’m about to start it. Don’t worry, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow and be over with bells on to help with Thanksgiving dinner.”

I stride past the happy couple. “I hope so, because it’s not your bells I’m worried about.” I look down. “It’s mine,” I joke.

“Right,” she laughs. “Can you please do something to make Makayla less nervous about meeting your mother and sister tomorrow? Please. I don’t care what.”

I twist my head around. “I have just the thing in mind.”

“Go get her, tiger,” Maggie roars, showing me her claws.

I shake my head.

She’s too much.

I wish it were that easy, though. She’s nervous because I’m nervous. My sister agreed to come even with my mother and new husband coming only because they weren’t staying with me. What she doesn’t know is they’re staying at Maggie’s, in Maggie’s room, and Maggie is staying with her boyfriend.

So that’s why Makayla is a nervous wreck. She wants everyone to get along.

Shit, I’m not sure that’s possible.

But I have hope.

Walking up the path and around to the house that Makayla and I are now officially sharing, I look into the kitchen to see her standing at the sink. Hair down. Tousled. A little messy. Wearing a tight tank top. Looking sexy as hell.

And right here, with my foot on the step, the feeling strikes.

A sense of home.

It’s been a long road and a lot has happened, but yes, I’m finally home.

And it feels fanfuckingtastic.