Moving day was here.

The moving truck was packed with my belongings — meager as they were — and a plane ticket home waited for me.

Back to California.

It wasn’t failure, I told myself. It was simply a reset. New York hadn’t been the golden ticket I’d thought it was going to be but that didn’t mean San Fransisco or Los Angeles might not be.

I’d struggled for so long, trying to make New York into something it wasn’t out of necessity but that was over.

I had the money to figure things out, go at my own pace.

But for the time being, I wanted to immerse myself in my photography. I wanted to pack a bag, jump in my new car (a rugged, yet sensible all-wheel drive Subaru) and just photograph anything and everything that caught my eye.

I wanted to discover my gift, my purpose.

And I wanted to forget about Gage.

That part would be the hardest.

Each time I thought I was out of tears, they started fresh. The ache in my chest was something I couldn’t quite shake and the memories haunted my dreams.

Sometimes I woke and reached for the man — even though he’d only spent one night sleeping beside me.

I guess one night had been enough.

My cell rang. It was Tara.

I wiped at my running nose before answering. “Hey.”

“What time is your flight?” she asked, excitement in her tone. “I want to make sure I’m there to pick you up on time. SFO can be tricky to navigate.”

I swallowed through my silent tears. “Um, yeah, I fly in tomorrow afternoon, 3 p.m.”

“I really wish you would’ve taken the midnight flight,” she groused. “I would’ve picked you up even that late.”

“You have two kids. You don’t need to be running into the city that late. Besides, I have some people I wanted to say goodbye to before leaving.”

Tara understood but she was ready to see me. It’d been years since I’d been home. My twin — we weren’t identical but we were bonded in weird ways — was practically vibrating with the need to feel me standing in the same room.

I know, weird. I’d long since stopped trying to explain the phenomenon to people.

“I miss you, too, Tara. I’ll be home tomorrow. One more day isn’t going to kill you.”

“I know,” Tara acknowledged with only a small sigh. “Mom and dad are excited to see you, too.”

I wasn’t so sure about but I wasn’t going to start that argument already. Tara was the golden child, the good twin; I was the fuck-up, the demon twin.

Maybe I could buy their affection. I had enough to splurge on a cruise or something for them. I could show them that I wasn’t always going to be a drain on their retirement.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, sensing my disquiet. “You haven’t changed your mind, right?”

“Tara, all of my worldly possessions are currently sitting in a moving truck downstairs and my flight is nonrefundable. I’d say it’s a little late to have cold feet now.”

“Okay,” Tara said, but I could almost see her brow creasing.

“Stop that,” I teased. “You’re going to need Botox way before your time.”

Tara laughed and I knew she was rubbing that little spot on her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll stop worrying. I have your room all ready for you. Bubba down at U-Store said he’s got a unit for rent. As soon as your stuff arrives, we can take it down until you can find a place.”

I murmured my thanks but I knew I wasn’t going to stay long in our hometown.

As beautiful as it was with its crisp mountain air and the whisper of the pines, it wasn’t where my heart could remain.

Again, I didn’t feel the need to share that information with Tara. There was no sense in ruining my homecoming before I’d even hit California.

“Even Ryan is excited to see you,” she added and I almost laughed. My sister’s husband had never been a fan of mine, saying that I was a bad influence on his wife.

Probably because I made no effort to hide the fact that I thought he treated Tara like a ‘50s era housewife and I never missed a chance to encourage her to step into the 21st century by telling her hubby to get off his ass and help out with the kids once in a while. Yeah…I’m sure he was super excited to have his troublesome sister-in-law under his roof. “Great, we can debate politics. I know how much he loves conversations with a strong, independent woman.”

“Try not to pick a fight with him, please,” Tara pleaded and I relented with a sigh. “He really does like you, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, he doesn’t have to like me, sissy. And I don’t have to like him. We will both be polite, okay?”

Tara knew that was as good as it would get. Likely, she’d already had this conversation with her dumb husband and he’d made some asinine comment as usual and Tara felt the need to cover for him. Hence, the overt and obvious lie about him being excited to see me.

Ahhh, the politics of family, right?

“Awesome,” Tara said, relieved. “I will see you tomorrow. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I returned before clicking off. Living under the same roof with Ryan was going to be a test of my patience. I’d love for Tara to wake up and realize that she could do so much better than the douchenozzle she was married to but Tara seemed to love him so I tried to bite my tongue.

Most times.

I could only pray the strength in my jaw was stronger than the speed of my tongue.

Otherwise, I might just start World War III over a serving of mashed potatoes.