I rush around the pool and throw myself into her arms. “I thought you were in the middle of filming.”

“I might have fibbed a little. As if I could miss my baby girl’s champagne birthday.” She hugs me tight. “Darren called me last week and arranged to fly me out here.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

After I’m finished hugging my mom, I launch myself at him. He catches me as I wrap my arm and legs around him. His smile grows, and he chuckles. “I did okay?”

“You did amazing. Thank you.” Other words I want to say get trapped in my throat, so I kiss him instead.

The afternoon is full of appetizers, dips in the pool, crazy conversations between the moms about pregnancy, sex, and other things I’ve never wanted to know about Violet or Alex’s moms, or mine. But I wouldn’t trade the crazy for anything in the world.

We’re in the middle of setting the table for dinner—I could use the food thanks to the amount of champagne I’ve consumed this afternoon—when another commotion at the gate draws my attention.

“What’s going on over there?” I ask Violet, who’s busy trying to attach pickled pearl onions to baby gherkins and wrap them in ham so they resemble mini Super MCs.

Violet looks over her shoulder and shrugs. “Maybe it’s another delivery, courtesy of your boyfriend?”

“I’m going to check it out.”

Darren has bought me a ridiculous number of gifts, and apparently there are more waiting at his place. I’ve unwrapped a new closet’s worth of shirts and leggings this afternoon.

I tiptoe stealthily across the patio in hopes that I can catch a glimpse of whatever is being delivered.

“What the fuck is going on?” Darren mutters. “Why is this thing parked in your driveway? We need to get it gone before Charlene sees it.”

Darren is standing shirtless with his arms folded across his chest, Alex beside him, adopting the same pose. I suppress a shudder when an RV comes into view. It’s parked in the driveway. It looks eerily similar to the one that was parked on my street earlier today.

The door to the RV opens with an ominous creak. Anxiety ricochets awkwardly through my entire body as a man appears in the doorway.

I break into a cold sweat as memories I’ve spent the past decade trying to keep locked away and buried claw their way to the surface. I’ve never been more terrified of beige khakis with an elastic waistband and an off-white golf shirt. I feel like I’m being pulled into a nightmare. This can’t be happening—not now when everything is so perfect. Not when I finally have all these good things in my life.

I fight for breath as he searches the faces of my friends, his combover lifting in the air like a hand waving. I take a step back, seeking cover, my knees wobbling perilously as his wild eyes land on me and a creepy-ass wonky-toothed smile spreads across his pale, doughy face.

“I knew the signs would lead me to you!” He spreads his arms as if he expects me to run into them. “I’ve come to bring you back into the fold!”

I’m pretty sure my scream can be heard all the way to Canada.DARREN

Everything awesome about today dies a horrible tragic death when some pasty fucker steps out of the massive RV parked in Alex’s driveway and starts yelling about signs and “the fold.”

I question whether this is someone’s idea of a practical joke, and whether or not I’m going to have to kick some serious ass, because it’s sure as fuck not funny.

An ear-piercing scream startles us all, and I turn to find Charlene standing about ten feet away, eyes wide with terror, one hand clutching her pearls, the other covering her mouth as she continues to scream, and scream and scream some more.

I know she has some kind of RV-related PTSD, much like I have a complete aversion to open doors—especially in the bathroom—but this reaction is extreme. I’m also concerned she’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen. I don’t know how a person can scream that long or that loud without taking a breath.

“Charlotte! I’ve come to save you!” Khaki Man yells.

Who the hell is Charlotte?

Charlene lurches forward and squeezes between me and Alex. I reach out to stop her, but she pushes away, careening toward Khaki Man. She corrects herself, stumbling as if she’s drunk. She grabs my arm, eyes bouncing around my face as she motions to the RV.

“Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“Are you okay? Do you know that man?” I try to wrap her up in my arms, but she pushes away again.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She grabs two fistfuls of hair, clutching hard as she shakes her head. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.” She spins around to face Khaki Guy. When she speaks her voice is clear, but shaky, “What the hell are you doing here, Frank? How did you find us?”