She threw a glare my way. "You'll take the master bedroom, Kenna."

Stunned, I asked her, "Seriously? You want me to take Mom's room?"

"It's not hers anymore, honey. It's yours. You're a doctor now. You should have a nice place to retreat to. You certainly deserve it."

Wow. Didn't really see that one coming. "Well, thanks."

She reached over and patted my hand. "I'm so proud of you, honey. You've worked your ass off and have accomplished so damn much. I'm just sorry I haven't been a better support for you. I've been locked in my grief over your mother's passing, but I want you to know that I'm so grateful to you and to little Liliana, too. You two have helped me so much, and I think you two deserve something special. Do you think you'd be up to redecorating the bedrooms?"

"That sounds pretty cool."

"And you should ask Alys if there's anything special she would want done for her new room."

I could only stare at her in amazement.

These last few years had indeed been hard on her. Physically and mentally, she had sort of collapsed in on herself. She tried to hide her pain from us, but I always sensed it just below the surface. Her mental anguish had manifested itself physically. Over time, she had developed an odd curve to her spine, the discs slipping out of alignment, and there was really nothing that could be done to correct it.

I would give her treatments when it got bad, but she didn't want to bother me since I already had so much to do. She'd flat-out refused to have acupuncture though, claiming she was no human pincushion.

"It'll be nice, having you girls living together. I know you've missed Alys so much, with her being in Lafayette."

That much was true. I did miss my Muffin.

"I'll call Alys later tonight and see what she says," I told her.

She'll say yes. She's missed me just as much as I've missed her.

"Good. Now, would you please stop hiding your marijuana in different places? My memory isn't as good as it once was, and I can't nick a pinch if I can't find it."

My jaw totally dropped with that bombshell.

Saturday morning found us freshly caffeinated and ready to tackle the master bedroom. I'd always loved this room.

As we headed inside, Grandma took my hand and squeezed gently. "Yes, this is yours now. It really should have been yours much sooner, but I suppose it's not too late."

Starting with the walk-in closet, we went through Mom's clothes and shoes, taking what we liked and donating the rest to charity. It was really a stroke of luck that these things hadn't dry-rotted.

My new prized possession was Mom's old ZoSo T-shirt from the seventies. Originally black, it was faded from having been lovingly worn over the decades. I had always wanted this shirt, and now, it was mine.

Lili joined us after she'd woken up and had her morning coffee.

I inherited Mom's jewelry. None of that was being donated.

Her knickknacks, wrapped in newspaper and boxed up, were placed in the attic. We each took a few things, either items we had loved from afar or knew they were her favorites. I claimed some of her picture frames with old photos of us in them.

I decided that I wanted to keep her antique mahogany furniture, and Grandma was happy about that. The giant four-poster was badass, and I had to admit, it was going to be nice sleeping on something bigger than a double-sized bed.

By midday, we'd made serious progress.

We headed downstairs, so I could make us some lunch. Ever since I'd earned my degree in nutrition, I'd been a little obsessed with providing tasty healthy meals. There had been no complaints so far, but I knew Lili missed some greasy fried goodness. She would sneak off to get herself some fried chicken from time to time, eating it in her car like a starved criminal.

I whipped us up some omelets and dark leafy green salads and paired it with fresh brewed iced tea and lime from my fancy iced tea machine.

"This is wonderful!" Grandma chirped. She munched her way through the foliage. "I think I shit about three times a day since you took those healthy-cooking classes."

Unfortunately, Grandma made that remark just as Lili had taken a huge gulp of iced tea, and it sprayed out of her nose and mouth all over my face. Coughing and wheezing, Lili mopped herself up as Grandma heartily whacked her between the shoulder blades.

I was laughing so hard that I was in danger of passing out.

"I love you, Grandma Betty," Lili choked.

"Why, I love you, too, Liliana."

There wasn't much left for us to do but pull out the boxes from under the bed. Some of them contained hundreds, if not thousands, of old photos.

"These should be in albums!" admonished Grandma. "I guess this will be something I can do while you girls are at work."

"They seem to be organized," I remarked. "It probably won't be too much of a task, getting them in albums. These are all of me when I was a baby."

"Wow! These are of your parents when they were really young, definitely younger than we are now."

Grandma took the one of my parents from Lili and smiled. "Yes, they were young when they met. Your mother was eighteen when Sigmund came in with his good looks and fancy accent, sweeping her off her feet. He was a very handsome man."

"I think he still is," I stated. "Although, he's gotten a bit out of shape over the last few years."

Thumbing through some photos that had been taken in the early eighties when I was a toddler, I discovered one when I was around a year or so. At least, I was standing on my own feet. In it, there was an adorable little boy, maybe three or four years old. He had golden brown hair and dimples in his smiling cheeks. I was pretty chubby and dimpled myself.

"Grandma, do you know who this is? The little boy?" I asked, handing her the picture.

Adjusting her glasses over the bridge of her nose, she took a good, long look before replying, "Why, I believe that's the little Deveraux boy, Louis and Margot's son."

My mouth dropped open, and Lili's head snapped up so fast that I swore, I'd heard a tiny sonic boom as it broke the sound barrier.

"Did you say Deveraux?" I was stunned.

"Mmhmm...they used to live next door." She nodded and turned the photo over, reading something on the back. "Yes, little Philip Deveraux." She took another glance at the front. "My, this wasn't long before Margot died, maybe a year or so."

Handing it to me, I quickly read my mother's handwriting on the back.

Little Philip, age 4 years, and his Baby Girl, age 1.3 years.

Christmas 1981.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. I was floored.

Lili's jaw hung open, and I couldn't tell if her eyes wanted to bug out of her head or go crossed.

"Wh-what does it mean-Baby Girl?" I asked my Grandma.

"Eh...oh! From his first glance, he was just so smitten with you. Louis told him that he had to be careful with you, that you were just a little baby girl, and I think he thought that was your name because he called you that the whole time you were here. You were his baby girl. I believe his heart fair broke when your mother took you back to Pensacola."

Lili started twitching, so I handed her the picture before she went into a full-blown seizure.

"He's called you that before, you know." I heard the echo of my mother's words from all those years ago.

Weird, I hadn't really thought about it for a while. I still fantasized about being with him, but I thought I had just accepted the fact that it wasn't going to happen. It had been nearly five years-five fucking years-since the night we kissed. Four years had passed since we last saw each other, and he had made no attempt to find me.

NOLA's Junk had recorded another album, Moniker Mayhem, which had been released a little over a year ago. They were scheduled to release another one in just a few weeks. They had done a world tour, coming back to the States. They hadn't come to Louisiana or anywhere within a twelve-hour drive or else we would have gone to see them. That had been a bit heartbreaking for me, but I had been so busy that I hadn't needed the distraction.

Under my own bed sat a massive scrapbook of all the magazine clippings and interviews they'd done and any pictures I could get my hands on. There were also the photos Lili had taken at their concerts plus ticket stubs and other memorabilia. I'd be well embarrassed if anyone ever found out that Dr. Kenna MacGregor had a severe obsession with Phil fucking Deveraux and the band he fronted. Still, I would keep collecting their crap every chance I got. I guessed everyone had vices, and mine happened to be weed and a fantasy life with a famous giant named Phil.

"Oh my god, Kenna," said Lili.

Our gazes met, and she had a fierce look in her eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"I told you."

Nodding back, I said nothing. There really wasn't anything I could say at that point.

"Well, let's get these boxes into my bedroom. I'll start on them next week," said Grandma. "And I'll call the painters and see how soon they can start. It'll be nice to have a change."

"Damn, Grandma, what's gotten into you?" I asked, yanking myself out of my thoughts. I hefted up the heavier boxes into my arms.

As Grandma pattered out of the room, Lili gave me a pointed look and said, "Jimi's weed."

The painters came in and transformed our boring little home into fantastic brilliance. My new master bedroom and bathroom looked fabulous with a fresh coat of paint in a latte color. I'd chosen one accent wall, the one that had the headboard of the bed against it, to be painted in a dark green. Everything was decorated and ready just in time for me to start my six-month internship.

Alys had graduated and moved in with us into her newly redecorated bedroom.

One of Mom's picture frames I had kept for myself housed the photo of Phil and me as kids and had a special place on my nightstand. What could I say? Old habits and all that.

I ended up interning in the long-term care unit at the hospital, determining treatments to reduce the use of prescription painkillers. When I wasn't at the hospital, I was doing research work at a rehab facility, helping detoxing addicts by administering drug-free pain relief treatments.

That had really ended up being an eye-opener for me. What a horrific illness for these people to try to get through. It was no wonder that more people didn't try to kick the addiction. I mostly worked with heroin and opiate users because the detox was debilitating. I was only too happy to be able to provide any kind of relief for them.

Before I knew it, my internship had finished. At the end of January, I concluded my last shift at the hospital. It was a little bittersweet because working with long-term care patients meant I'd developed relationships with them. It was hard to say good-bye, but I could always come back and visit anytime I wanted or if they needed me.

My final day was on the last Friday of the month. The following Monday, Rita handed me my own practice within the Center for Radiant Health. Gavin became my second-in-command. It was a huge relief that all this work had finally paid off. Rita had had a new extension built onto the building just for us.

Walking in that first day, it hit me full-blast. I did it. I fucking did it! I'm a practicing doctor of therapeutic medicine.

It was the second greatest feeling in the whole world.

Phil "Seriously, Phil," said Jason, dropping his ass on the barstool next to me, "you've been a complete douche for the last few weeks. Find yourself a piece of ass, and get it out of your system."

Irritated, I heaved a sigh. I was annoyed because the fucker was probably right. To be honest, there were a lot of blondish sweet things walking around London, and that was what I liked.

Liked.

Not once had I met anything close to my Baby Girl's copper head.

Is she the only one in the world with that hair color? Probably. I mean, there were those who came close...

"Yeah, maybe," I said to my brother from another mother. "It's just-"

"Yeah, I know," he said, sounding a bit irritated his damn self.

Touring was really starting to take its fuckin' toll on all of us. We were sick of the bus, sick of the hotels even though the accommodations had gotten better the more money we made the record company. At least it was no longer the six of us stuck in two rooms. That had been the worst. Our poor manager, Tim, usually got stuck with Jason and Sheri "Sher-Bear," and had endured many a night sleeping with his head stuffed under a pillow, praying for the live porn show to be over. The rest of us ended up not bunking with them 'cause we'd usually end up joining in, which was weird enough.

I went through phases with the whole sex thing. There were times when I couldn't seem to stop fuckin' any pretty piece that came my way, and then there were times where I'd just abstain.

Guilt was a bitch and crept up on me from time to time. It wasn't just about my Baby Girl. I'd tried to have a relationship with this girl, Brigid, and in the end, I'd wound up hurting her and feeling like an ass. I had tried to forget and move on from my Baby Girl, and it had fuckin' backfired. So, after that, I'd just stuck to the women who were there to put out, and that was it.

"You ever think your Baby Girl might've moved on, man? It's been...what? Four years?"

"Five and a half," I replied.

Jason let out a low whistle. "Fuck, it's been that long?"

"Since the night we met Sheri."

"Huh. Well...really, Phil, do you think she's been waitin' for your ass for six fuckin' years?"

Anger burned deep in my chest, beneath my heart, because the thought of anyone else touching my Baby Girl really didn't sit too well with me. What made it worse was the guilt I felt because I'd spent the last five and a half years becoming an absolute man-whore. How could I even be the slightest bit upset if she had gone off and done the same thing? I had no clue, but there it was.

"No," I snapped at Jason. "I never expected her to sit celibate for all these fuckin' years. But I damn well expect her to be ready for me when I get back."

"Ready for what?"

Ready for fuckin' forever-that's what. "I don't know."

"Yeah, well, what if she is married and has kids or some shit?"

"She isn't," I replied, getting angrier by the second.

"How do you know?"

"I just fuckin' know, okay? Fuckin' knock it the fuck off, dick!"

Jason sighed. "All right, man."

The thing was, he wasn't wrong.

Recently, I'd been waking up in the middle of the night, feeling like time was running out, like she was done. She could be done with waiting, done with believing in me, in the fact that there really was no one else for either of us. It was as though I could sense her waking up inside, that maybe she really had just waited and had nothing but loneliness and frustration to show for it.

I didn't want to think about that.