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I grab my glass of wine and sit down on one of the barstools, folding my legs underneath me. “I’m good, Mom. How’s everything back there?”

“Oh, same as always. Your father has decided that he’s going to build us rocking chairs but you know your father, they’ll never get finished. I may just steal his truck and sneak over to Cracker Barrel to buy a couple.”

I laugh and take a sip of my wine. “That sounds like a good plan, Mom.”

“Doesn’t it? How’s work?”

I realize that I forgot to tell her about that whole situation, and I gasp. “Oh, gosh, Mom. I totally forgot to fill you in on all that.”

I start telling her the whole story, starting at Mr. Klein putting me up against Chelsea to Mercedes cornering me in the coffee shop.

“Hold on a minute, isn’t Chelsea the little hussy that rubbed her tits on your father’s arm when we were there visiting you?”

I laugh and nod even though she can’t see me. “Yep, that’s her.”

She laughs as I tell her all about the final confrontation with Klein and Chelsea in his office. I don’t spare any details. My mom and I have always been close, and she’d never judge me for the choices I made.

“You should ask Izzy to slap a lawsuit against that man for what he did to you,” she says when I finish, and I chuckle.

“No, there’s no point. Besides, I’m probably doing better than he is now. The paper wasn’t doing well when Carly and I left.”

She squeals, and I pull the phone away from my ear for a second to save my eardrums. “I almost forgot. Tell me all about this new job.”

I start telling her about how Mercedes approached me that day and about my new job. When I get to the part about my article going viral, the line goes quiet.

“Good Lord, I forget to call you for a few weekends and you’ve got a whole new life, don’t you?” she asks, and I laugh.

“I suppose I do.”

“Anything else new? Got a new man in your life?” I pause, unsure of what to tell her, and she picks up on it immediately. “Spill, young lady.”

Sighing, I start to tell her about Logan and how we met. I spill my guts, explaining how weird it’s been and how unsure I am about what’s going on between us, and when I’m finished, she’s quiet again.

“Mom? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Honey. I’m just thinking.”

I chew on my bottom lip for a moment as I wait for her but my impatience gets the best of me. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Well… I guess I’m a little surprised because it’s been so long since you felt anything for a guy but also, the way you talk about him – it’s like you’re in love with him. You never talked like this about a guy. Not even Adam.”

I scoff, almost falling off my stool. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t love Logan. I mean, I barely know him.”

“So? Your dad and I were only dating for six months when we ran off to get married. When you know, you know, Ali, and time doesn’t matter. Not really.”

I’m about to respond when something bangs against the back of the house, and my heart kicks in my chest.

“Hang on, Mom,” I whisper, setting the phone down as the fear runs rampant through my body. All I can picture in my mind is the faceless person lurking around my home, waiting to burst in. Grabbing a knife from the butcher block with a shaky hand, I slide off the barstool and creep toward the French doors in the back of the house.

Since the break-in, I’ve had the blinds drawn, and it hinders my view of the backyard, only increasing my fear as I draw closer and closer. My heart pounds in my ears, and my breath is choppy as I reach for the door handle, the knife held out in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I swing the door open and look out into the yard, seeing nothing. I can feel eyes on me, like there’s someone hiding in my bushes waiting until my back is turned to ambush me, and it sends goose bumps racing across my skin.

I scan the yard again and again, hoping that I see something and praying that I don’t all at the same time. The wind whips through the trees lining the back fence, and I can see my breath as I take a step outside, my entire body on edge and poised to attack. Finally, I look to the side of the house and let out a sigh as I realize the crash that I heard was one of my lawn chairs being blown into the side of the house.

“Take a chill pill, Ali,” I mutter to myself, feeling stupid for overreacting as I turn and march back into the house. Even though I know it was nothing, I can’t help but lock the door and then double check to make sure it’s really locked before going back to the island and sitting on the barstool. I slide the knife onto the counter and pick up my phone.

“Sorry, Mom.”

“Good Lord, Alison Marie. What the hell is going on?”