Chapter 330
**Sara**
I jolted awake, disoriented for a moment, in my childhood bedroom. The soft glow of my phone screen illuminated the darkness. It was 5:34 AM. My hand shot out automatically, grabbing it before my brain had fully booted up.
Two messages from Tom.
My heart did a little skip as I squinted at the screen, the brightness making me wince.
Tom: Sorry I didn't message earlier. Back-to-back meetings all day. You sleeping?
Tom: Miss your face, Sunshine
I smiled, my sleepy brain warming at his words.
Me: Just woke up. How was your day of important business stuff?
The reply came almost immediately, making me wonder if he'd been waiting.
Tom: Exhausting. About to crash now. Time zones are cruel inventions.
I glanced at the time again. Of course, while I was just starting my day, he was ending his.
Me: Go to sleep! We can talk later when you're not a zombie.
Tom: Mmm. Zombie Tom wants braaaains. Specifically Sara's brain. Very pretty brain.
I snorted, burying my face in my pillow to muffle my laughter.
Me: That's both sweet and disturbing. Sleep, you weirdo.
Tom: Yes, ma'am. Call me when you can?
Me: Sure. Sweet dreams.
Tom: They always are when they're about you.
"Oh my god," I whispered, feeling a ridiculous blush creep up my cheeks. How did he manage to be so smooth even when half-asleep?
I set my phone down and stretched, listening to the quiet house around me. No one else would be up for at least another hour. Dad's "famous" pancakes wouldn't make their smoky appearance until at least 8 AM.
Might as well make use of the time.
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my toiletry bag, and tiptoed to the bathroom.
The hot shower felt heavenly, washing away the remnants of sleep. I stood under the spray longer than necessary, letting my mind wander to Tom. What was he doing right now? Probably face-planting into a hotel pillow, still in his suit, if I knew him at all.
By the time I finished and dressed, the house was stirring to life. Mom was in the kitchen, coffee already brewing, looking suspiciously alert for 6:15 AM.
"Morning, sweetheart," she said, sliding a mug toward me. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep," I said, accepting the coffee gratefully.
"Well, you're just in time to help with breakfast."
We worked in comfortable silence, me chopping fruit while Mom mixed pancake batter. The familiar rhythm of kitchen work with her brought back memories of weekend mornings throughout my childhood—me perched on a stool, "helping" in ways that probably made everything take twice as long.
"So," Mom said, breaking the quiet. "How's work going?"
"It's good, actually. Challenging but good. My team is supportive, and I'm learning a ton." I said, carefully slicing a strawberry. I arranged the fruit on a platter, creating a rainbow pattern that would definitely earn Mom's approval.
Mom poured the batter onto the griddle with practiced precision. "What about your social life? Any new friends? Or... special friends?"
I nearly sliced my finger. "Mom!"
"What? It's a perfectly reasonable question."
"Which you asked with all the subtlety of a freight train."
She flipped a pancake with a flourish. "Subtlety is overrated at my age."
I considered telling her about Tom. For a split second, I imagined her reaction: the raised eyebrows, the million questions, the not-so-subtle hints about grandchildren. No, definitely not ready for that conversation.
"My social calendar is adequately filled, thank you very much."
"Hmm." She didn't sound convinced. "Well, when you do meet someone special, I hope you'll tell me before your father starts planning the wedding."
"Dad would never-"
"Your father has a Pinterest board for your future wedding," Mom said flatly. "Don't tell him I told you."
I burst out laughing. "You're joking."
"I wish I were. It's called 'Sara's Big Day' and it's terrifying. So much burlap."
Dad shuffled into the kitchen just then, hair sticking up in all directions. "Is the coffee ready? I smell coffee."
Mom and I exchanged a look and dissolved into giggles.
"What?" Dad asked, looking between us suspiciously. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing, honey," Mom said, handing him a mug. "Just girl talk."
Breakfast was the usual chaotic affair, with Dad's pancakes miraculously turning out edible despite his best efforts to burn them. Charles and Melissa joined us, looking sleepy but happy. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional good-natured argument.
All too soon, it was time to leave. I helped clean up, then went upstairs to pack my bag.
When I came back down, Mom was waiting by the door, her eyes a little misty.
"Don't look at me like that," I said, pulling her into a hug. "I'm only an hour away."
"I know, I know." She squeezed me tight. "But the house feels empty without you kids around."
Dad joined our hug, wrapping his long arms around both of us. "Come visit more often, pumpkin. Your old man misses you."
"I will," I promised, feeling a lump in my throat. "Maybe next month?"
"We'll be here," Mom said, finally releasing me. "Drive safe, and text when you get home."
"Charles is driving me, Mom. And I'm not sixteen anymore."
"Humor your mother," Dad said, kissing the top of my head. "It's easier than arguing."
I laughed, picking up my bag. "Fine. I'll text when I get home."
After one final round of hugs, Charles, Melissa, and I were in the car, pulling away from the house. I waved until we turned the corner, then settled back into my seat with a sigh.
"They miss you," Charles said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
"I miss them too," I admitted. "It's weird being an adult, isn't it? Like, I have my own life now, but part of me still feels like I should be living at home."
"Tell me about it," Charles agreed. "I still catch myself almost asking Dad for permission to do stuff sometimes."
Melissa laughed. "Last month, he called your mom to ask if it was okay to take cold medicine with allergy pills."
"I did not!" Charles protested, then paused. "Okay, maybe I did. But in my defense, those warning labels are scary."
The drive back to my apartment passed quickly, filled with easy conversation and debates about which gas station had the best coffee.
When we pulled up to my building, I leaned forward to give Charles an awkward side hug. "Thanks for the ride, bro."
"Anytime, sis." He grinned. "Well, not anytime. Maybe call first."
I rolled my eyes and turned to Melissa. "It was great seeing you again. Good luck with this one; he's a handful."
She laughed. "Don't I know it? Take care, Sara."
I waved as they drove away and then headed up to my apartment. The familiar comfort of home gave way to the familiar comfort of my own space. I dropped my bag by the door and immediately changed into work clothes: a pencil skirt and blouse that said "professional" without screaming, "trying too hard."
A quick glance at my watch told me I had just enough time to grab a coffee before heading to the office. I called a cab, gave my reflection one last critical look, and headed out.
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