Living in Los Angeles is like going through every day in a magical, alternate world where everyone is beautiful and the sun never stops shining. It becomes second nature not to notice these things after you’re moving through it for a while, but having my parents here brings me back down to earth.

“I mean, Kara, I could fit half of our house in the size of your closet!” Mom’s mouth drops as I finish the tour of the house with her and Dad, and I chuckle.

I’ve forgotten what life back in New Jersey is like, after living in a fairy tale for more than six months, but her accent and shock send a pang of homesickness through my gut. It echoes through my pores, and I realize that I’m not sure I can live out here forever.

Forever. Wow. It’s the first time I’ve thought seriously about what will happen after this contract year is over. Will I stay here? Does Dean want me to stay here? From everything he’s said and done, he wants me to stay. But do I? Can I see myself going back to New Jersey, or moving somewhere else?

I’m not sure, honestly. Aside from all of the us stuff to figure out, I am thriving in my career like I never have before. I only have one more year of residency, and then I can choose where I’d like to work, or open my own practice if that is a possibility. I feel more confused than I did when I moved out here initially, and I push the thoughts into the back of my brain where I don’t have to address them for now.

“It’s nothing, Mom, look, I can barely even fill a fourth of it.” I point to the one small section of the massive walk in in my bedroom that contains clothing.

Since paying off my school loans with the contract money, I haven’t really spent anything else. It’s the first time in my life I have a nest egg, and even though it is technically Dean’s, I want to save as much as I can to contribute to this relationship in a real way when he lets me. We haven’t talked about how we’ll work this relationship, but I don’t want to start as the one leaning on him like a financial crutch.

“We’re going to go shopping tomorrow, right? Your father promised me I could get one special gift.” She bats her eyelashes at my father.

As if I’m going to let either of them pay for anything on this trip. “Of course, whatever you want. I’m just happy to see you guys.”

It was true, I’d missed them. Not enough to move back in, that was definitely not an option if I wanted to stay sane, but it had always been our little trio.

Mom wraps her arms around me, sniffling. “We miss you too, sweetie. I feel like I haven’t seen you in years, I’m usually so in tune with what is going on in your life. Now I get my news about you from gossip magazines and celebrity news sites.”

Dad rolls his eyes at me when Mom can’t see. Yes, she’s a little dramatic, but I missed that, too. “I know, I need to do better at keeping in touch. But believe me, you’re not missing much. All of those events and pictures you see, it’s mostly for show. Really, I’m just the same Jersey girl with a penchant for pork roll.”

“I was going to try to bring some out for you, but I thought that the vegan police out here would arrest me,” Dad jokes as we walk back downstairs.

In the kitchen, Dean is standing with Skylar, helping to set plates. And when I say help, I mean Skylar is barking orders at my fiancé while Dean looks like a puppy trying to please him. It’s hilarious, because the laid-back musician has absolutely no business trying to cook, or even plate, food.

“Can I help with anything?” Mom steps up to the counter, eager to see what Skylar is doing.

“Not a thing. Except help yourself to another glass of wine.” Skylar smiles at Mom and pours her more red with one hand while he ladles sauce onto a plate with another.

He’s already charmed her. “Will you fit in my suitcase? Come live with us in New Jersey.”

“Yeah, you can keep her company while I golf. That sounds perfect.” Dad rubbed his chin.

“I’ll come for a visit, we’ll all take Dean’s private plane.” Skylar picks up two plates and takes them into the dining room.

“Glad to be of service.” Dean mock glares at his chef’s back. “We should have dessert on the beach after, yeah?”

I nod. “That’s a great idea.”

“It’s so good to see you, Dean. I mean son. I can’t believe it! We’re going to plan a wedding!” Mom claps her hands, the wine definitely already going to her head.

Neither Dean nor I have discussed the engagement or wedding any further, and it brings an air of discomfort to the room. I’m not sure if Dad feels it, but he narrows his eyes.

“I can’t wait. We can start looking at some magazines while you’re here,” I suggest this, because I know it will make her happy, and keep Dad’s suspicions at bay.

“Dinner is served.” Skylar waves his hand for us to move into the dining room.

“Magazines, huh? Interesting. You so want to marry me.” Dean rubs a firm hand over my ass when my parents leave the room.

“I am wearing your ring on my finger, asshat.” I shove an elbow in his stomach, but not hard enough to hurt.

“Yeah, but you want so much more with me now. You want to kiss me, love me and marry me …” He sings the last sentence, just like one of my favorite scenes in Miss Congeniality.

“I made you watch that movie too many times.” I roll my eyes, but I really did. We watched it for weeks straight because I was obsessed in high school.

“It wasn’t that much of a struggle for me, Sandra Bullock is hot.”

“Does she know you think about her?”

“I told her on a red carpet once.” He waves his hand, as if it’s nothing.

“Oh, of course, because that’s normal.” I have to laugh as I walk into the dining room, thinking about how weird his life has become.

We sit down and thank Skylar for dinner, then dig in. He’s prepared a seared salmon with some kind of lemon sauce that melts on my tongue like butter. The fish is paired with whipped garlic mashed potatoes so creamy that I’d like to bathe in for the foreseeable future. The wine, the way the sunset is glinting off the water through the windows, just everything … it’s perfect. I look around the table at the people who have always meant the most to me, and it may sound corny, but I feel really blessed.

“Do you remember the time I taught Dean how to carve a turkey?” Dad chuckles out of nowhere, and it’s surprising because usually my father is not the sentimental type.

But I knew that he had a soft spot for Dean … see, if I loved something, Dad loved it too. He was never one to question my decisions or have an opinion if he thought I was happy. He just supported, helped in any way he could, and cajoled my mother when need be. It’s why I think he wasn’t saying anything about the engagement, why he’d never voiced any objection. Although … I know he would have liked to give his permission beforehand, and we hadn’t had time for Dean to do that.

“Oh my lord, he almost chopped his entire hand off. Never let him do anymore cooking, Kara.” My mother shook her head, forking another bite of food into her mouth.

“Thankfully he has Skylar, who is lightyears better than both of us anyway. But I can still whip up a mean chocolate death cake just like you taught me.” I winked at her.

“I forgot about that Thanksgiving.” Dean looked over at me, a twinkle in his eye.

Senior year of high school, my boyfriend at the time had spent pretty much every holiday with us. He was practically already family, and I don’t think my parents would have been shocked if he’d put a ring on my finger before I went off to college.

“You two fought over the wishbone. Kara wanted to keep it intact, but Dean, you wanted to break it. And you let her win by allowing her to break the bigger piece.” Mom looks at Dean with admiration in her eyes.

“You have always been good to and for our daughter. And I, for one, am happy that you two found your way back to each other.” My Dad picked up his wine glass, and he got me a little teary at the misty look in own eyes. “I want to propose a toast. To Kara and Dean … may life always bring you the happiest of moments together. We couldn’t be more proud to have you both in our lives.”

Looking over at Mom, there are tears running down her cheeks. We all take a sip, the emotion clogging the room.

“Thanks, Dad.” I smile a watery smile.

Just as he’s about to speak, Dean’s phone starts to vibrate. “Jeez, I’m sorry.”

He fumbles to silence it, but right as he’s about to address my parents again, his phone starts to buzz.

“I’m so sorry, please excuse me.” Dean looks down at his phone again, a perplexed expression running over his face before he gets up and walks into the other room.

Mom and Dad look at me, and I just shrug, not knowing what is going on.

We finish up the meal in relative silence, with just a short conversation on how Mom’s sewing business is going on the Etsy page I set up for her. Dean walks in after about ten minutes, his expression one of shock, with a glazed smile passing over his lips.

“What happened?” My heart suspends in my chest, not beating or moving while he’s silent.

“The jury is going to find me not guilty. All of the charges are going to be dropped.” He plops down into his chair at the table, still not looking at us.

“Are you serious?” Breathing ceases to be an activity.

He nods. “Jason just called Patrick, who called me. We have to go back in for the announcement, but it’s just a formality. They didn’t believe a word of it after all of the testimony, especially Jason’s cross examination. And the fact that there were no marks on Hannah, or corroborating evidence. I’m free. It’s over.”

Finally, those dark aqua eyes meet mine, and I jump straight out of my chair. He catches me, my body curling into his lap, as I ring my arms around his neck.

“Oh, thank God!” I joke, tears springing to the corners of my eyes.

I hadn’t realized just how much I’d been holding my breath for the last six days, waiting for his fate to be handed down. Waiting for our fate to be decided. My soul lifts, my skin tingles, everything in me wants to hold on to Dean for dear life and kiss him until my lips fall off.

Suddenly, I’m being lifted and scooped into Mom’s arms, her tears soaking my hair as she hugs me. “Oh lord, thank you. I have been worried sick about this, and it just makes our visit that much better that we can be here for this news.”

Looking over, Dad claps Dean on the back, the two men with huge sighs of relief written all over their faces. “We knew you weren’t guilty. I’m so glad that the jury could see that, too. Take this victory as a clean slate, your fresh start with my daughter.”

Dean glances at me, the expression unreadable, but so big at the same time.

Those three monumental words sit in the back of my throat, my heart on the verge of expressing them. Dean has said it to me, multiple times now. He’s never been shy or guarded about his feelings, and yet … something in me still hangs on to that last shred of preservation.