When we arrive in Boston, the traffic is pure chaos. Pedestrians are walking in front of oncoming traffic, cars are cutting each other off, and I even witnessed a homeless man urinating on a tree as if marking his territory. After dealing with too many overwhelming twists and turns with sudden turnoffs on ramps, we finally arrive on the street for the Airbnb.

Slowing the car to almost a crawl, we watch the numbers on the houses increase until we come up a slight incline.

"That's it!" Ana announces, pointing out her window.

We inch closer in search of the driveway to find it completely blocked off with rope on either ends, the asphalt still shining from a recent pave. That's odd, I swear the confirmation said today. Why would they pave the driveway right before guests arrive? Thankfully, this side of Boston isn't heavily congested with traffic, so parking on the street won't be a big deal.

"Did they send you an email letting you know to park on the street?" Ana asks as she removes her seatbelt.

"I don't think so," I say, grabbing my phone from the dashboard mount to double-check. "There's just an email confirming we arrive today and that the key is under the mat."

"Let's just head inside. You can send the homeowner a message when we get settled," Nora suggests as she steps out of the car.

Leaving the car, the three of us walk up the narrow sidewalk and stop directly in front of the house. Ana, Nora, and I stand frozen in place, our jaws hanging open with shock while we stare at the house. A gorgeous, two-story farmhouse with a stone walkway leading from the road, a freshly manicured lawn, and a fenced-in backyard stares back at us. This house is ours for almost a month?

Nora makes a mad dash to the front door, trying the doorknob with no luck.

I shake my head with a chuckle and yell up to her, "it's under the mat!"

"Didn't you just say that?" Ana murmurs to me, using her hand as a shield from the sun's assault on her eyes.

Nora lifts the doormat, finds the key, and waves it around triumphantly above her head.

"I found it!" she exclaims and eagerly slides the key into the lock and successfully opens the door.

Ana and I enter with caution, still feeling uneasy about renting an entire house that belongs to someone we don't personally know. I've rented hotel rooms before and plenty of motels, but never an entire house. It almost feels like we're breaking in and a guard dog is going to come around the corner any second, or a secret trip alarm is about to go off.

When the coast is clear, we step further inside and my attention is immediately drawn to the living area, where a beautiful navy blue sectional separates the entryway—almost the same color as the one I have back home. Walking over to the sofa, I run my hand along the back of it, letting my fingers sink into the soft fabric while a sense of familiarity washes over me. Finding something that reminds me of home makes me miss my girls so much already, but I know I need this as much as they need to spend time with their father. But I would be lying if I said I didn't wish they could be here with me to experience this.

Tucking the thought to the back of my mind, I ascend the stairs, eager to claim the first pick of the rooms myself. Opening the first door I see at the top of the stairs, my eyes widen when I take in the room's size. It's big enough to hold three of my bedrooms, plus some. There's even a sliding door that leads to a private balcony at the far end, a full bathroom, and a walk-in closet. What do these people do for careers? Whatever it is, I'm clearly in the wrong field.

Walking over to the king-size bed, I fall into it, my body sinking into the plush pillow top that covers the mattress. The term "pillow top" clearly earned its name fair and square, because it feels like I am drifting on a literal cloud. God, I need one of these when I get home. Closing my eyes while the soft, plush duvet cradles me, it lulls me comfortably, making me wish I could spend my whole vacation right here.

"Don't you think we should grab our stuff first?" Ana smirks as she leans against the door frame.

My eyes fly open, looking around to remember where I am as the room remains out of focus momentarily.

Did I seriously fall asleep?

"I was just testing out my new bed," I say innocently, stretching my arms over my head.

Ana chuckles, striding into the room with her hand outstretched toward me. "Girl, we have four weeks here to do that. Vamos!" she says when I take her hand in mine, allowing her to pull me from the comfortable bed.

"I can't have five more minutes?" I groan, pretending to stomp my foot like a child.

"Hey," she snaps her fingers, waving them playfully near my face. "We just left the presence of children, and as much as I love them, too, we are not doing that."

We enter the hallway in search of Nora, checking all the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs, yet she's nowhere to be found.

"Nora?" I call out, waiting for an answer that doesn't come.

Ana and I exchange questioning glances before a loud crash startles us from downstairs.

"I'm okay!" Nora yells from wherever she is.

Despite the fact she told us she's okay, my heart rate still picks up as we bolt down the stairs and hurry down the hallway that leads to the kitchen. When we enter the kitchen, we find Nora scouring the cabinets, looking through them diligently.

"Nora, what are you looking for in there?" I ask from behind her, my hands planted on my hips.

She turns around slowly with a piece of cheese dangling from her lips as she bites off the end. "Oh, the homeowners left some sort of basket with goodies on the counter. I was looking for some plates and wineglasses," she says nonchalantly, gesturing toward the other end of the kitchen.

"A basket? What kind of basket?" I ask with confusion, leaning forward to see where she pointed.

Nora points again toward the patio's sliding doors before she resumes rummaging through the cabinet. Walking in that direction, my gaze lands on a beautifully arranged gift basket filled with an assortment of chocolates, expensive-looking cheeses, and a bottle of white wine. A card rests beside the basket as I carefully pick it up and read the contents inside.

"A gift for our guests. Please accept this complimentary basket as an apology for the paving, as it's been rescheduled to today due to the upcoming weather. You should be able to park in the driveway on Sunday night. We hope you enjoy your stay."

"Upcoming weather?" Ana says from over my shoulder. "It's Massachusetts. The most that happens up here is rain and wind."

I give her a shrug as I steal a piece of white cheddar cheese and pop it into my mouth. "I don't know, but they're forgiven. And Nora, don't overdo it with the cheese! We were planning to go out for dinner."

"Did you just Mom me?" Nora chuckles and takes another piece of cheese.

"Don't let her tell you how to live your life, Nora. You're on vacation, you eat all the cheese you want," Ana laughs while pouring herself a glass of wine.

I shake my head with a chuckle, heading toward the patio doors. "I'm going to sit out here for a few minutes. I have to let my mom know we made it."

"Oh yeah, I was supposed to remind you to do that, huh?" Ana says before I close the doors.

Standing on the wooden deck, I take in the view of the backyard and take a deep breath—allowing the scent of freshly cut grass to fill my lungs. Taking my cell phone out of my back pocket, I sink into one of the reclining chairs facing the inground pool.

"Hello?" my mother answers on the first ring.

"Hey! I wanted to check on the girls and let you know we just arrived," I say, leaning back against the chair and propping both feet on the ottoman.

"Oh honey, they're fine. How was the drive?" she asks as I hear the girls' laughter echoing in the background.

"It was definitely just as hectic as I remember it. It's been a few years since I've been down this way, but still was pretty nerve-wracking," I confess.

"Well, at least you made it safe. Just focus on having fun, Al. The girls will be just fine," she reassures.

"Thanks mom, I love you," I tell her and hope she truly understands how much.

"I love you too," she says and ends the call.

After a few minutes of enjoying the peacefulness of the birds singing as they flew overhead, Ana joins me and takes a seat in the chair beside me. She looks as awestruck as I feel, having needed this getaway just as much as I do. She's helped me take care of my girls for nearly a year and somehow has managed to write two incredible novels at the same time.

"Should we get some groceries before we head to dinner?" she asks, not taking her eyes off the shimmering water.

I let out a long sigh, not wanting to move, but I know if we eat first I'm not going to want to do anything but sleep afterward. "Yeah, we should probably do that first."

While heading toward the car, I stop on the walkway, admiring the neighborhood while an elderly man plays fetch with his golden retriever, children are playing with chalk in their driveway, and a couple jog by as they nod toward me in greeting. Returning the gesture, I can't help but wish we could move down here, but working as a nurse, you're not exactly rolling in the dough in this economy. I wouldn't want to take the kids this far from their father, but I imagined so much more with my life. Instead, we just created different goals along the way.

As soon as our luggage is inside and brought to our designated rooms, I walk into my bedroom's private bath to take a quick shower. Pulling back the curtain, I let the water warm up while I search my playlist for Bottom Line's newest album, suddenly feeling energetic enough for a karaoke session in the shower. I let my head fall back as the warm water sprays over my hairline, allowing the steam to ease my building anxiety as I remember I'm meeting them tomorrow night. The band has been around for nearly a decade, but they have yet to be widely known here in the States. Since they are from Wales, most of their fans are in Europe. Hopefully, this means the venue won't be too overcrowded, but since they did just sign a record deal, I'm assuming it's going to be packed.

Driving to the closest grocery store takes us nearly forty-five minutes, compared to the twenty minutes the GPS estimated. I could never get used to the traffic down here. I enjoy getting to where I need to go without people blaring their horns at me for not running a red light and causing a horrible accident. Everyone down here seems to always be in a rush, and that's my biggest pet peeve—being rushed.

"Okay, so since we're here for four weeks, we should probably split up the cooking duties," I suggest. "We can gather the stuff we know we'll want to make for dinner and make a menu when we get back."

"What if I want ramen and wine every night?" Nora says, sounding like she's joking but we know she's dead serious.

"Is that because that's all you know how to make?" Ana snickers while grabbing a shopping cart.

"Listen, we can't all be master Mexican chefs," I say while nudging Ana's elbow playfully.

She laughs with her head tilted back, "it's okay, there's plenty to learn in the time we're here."

"Okay, meet by the bathrooms when we're done?" I ask, already pushing my cart toward the grocery section.

"Aye aye, captain," Nora salutes and heads straight toward the freezer section. If she comes back with twenty frozen pizzas instead of ingredients for meals, I swear I will pay for her to go to cooking classes.

When we part ways, I pull up the shopping list I created on my phone before we left this morning. I know we need the essentials—eggs, milk, bread, and, most importantly, more wine. At least while I'm here I can make the meals I've been dying to have, like chicken alfredo. The girls and Trevor are such picky eaters I couldn't ever make anything with actual flavor. Dinners were always filled with chicken that was barely seasoned, chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, or pizza. Now that I'm on vacation, I can indulge in actual adult food, and as sad as that may sound, that's partly what I was most excited about.

Once my cart is full of groceries, and I've double checked my list a million times, I realize there's one important thing I almost forgot to grab.

The wine.

Making a beeline for the wine aisle, I scan the shelves in search of my lifeline. By lifeline, I of course, mean big, beautiful bottles of Pink Moscato. Grabbing two bottles off the shelf, I lower them carefully into my cart as my phone dings with an incoming text.

Ana: Hey! I know wine was on your list, can you grab me a bottle of white zinfandel?

What the hell is "white zinfandel?" I quickly pull up the web browser and type in the requested wine to see a picture of the bottle. Pushing my cart along the aisle, my eyes search for the same bottle in the picture as my eyes flick from the shelves, back to my phone.

"Do they even sell this here?" I mutter to myself, continuing to push my cart with my eyes glued to the picture until it collides with a solid surface.

Slowly glancing up, I quickly realize that I didn't just hit a solid surface. I just hit a human being. A very tall, muscular human being at that. I can't see his face to see if he's pissed or not, as I of course hit the back of the poor guy's ankle. The absolute worst spot to get hit with a cart.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," I frantically apologize, backing my cart away from him. "Are you alright?"

He slowly turns around when I am finally met with the face of the person I just assaulted with my very heavy cart, suddenly feeling goosebumps tickle my arms.

Holy shit. This isn't happening right now.

"No worries. I was sort of asking for it just standing here," he says with a luscious Welsh accent, scratching the back of his head nervously.

God, that accent is even sexier in person. My words are at a loss as I stare at the man in front of me. He's way taller than I expected, at least six feet. His short, dark brown hair looks to have been recently cut into a faux hawk, allowing his deep, ocean-blue eyes to shine without any interference.

Alright, now is as good a time as any to be normal, Allie. We are not going to be that crazed fangirl that freaks out because they found their favorite singer in the wild. He's a regular person after all, so don't freak out. That's what Ana would tell me, anyway.

I chuckle nervously as I fumble with my phone. Say words, Allie.

"We both had important things on our minds, it seems," I joke, gesturing toward the shelves of wine.

"Yeah," he chuckles softly. "It's definitely a necessity on your average Friday night. What do you suggest?" he inquires as he nods toward the varying choices.

"Well, my personal favorite is this one," I say, lifting a bottle of pink Moscato from my cart, "the perfect combination of fruit and alcohol. What about you?"

Jax reaches out to grab a bottle of red Merlot off the rack. Well, we can't all be perfect, can we?

"Can't go wrong with a good bottle of red," he says. "I'll have to give the Moscato a try. Thanks for the recommendation..." he pauses, "I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

Holy shit, he's asking for my name.

"Oh, I'm Allie Windsor," I offer, tucking an escaped strand of hair behind my ear.

He reaches out his hand in introduction, giving me a smile that makes me melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Jax Owens," he says as our hands join, causing my arm to jolt with electricity.

Damn carts and their static electricity.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Allie Windsor. I'll let you get back to your shopping," he says softly, bowing his head in farewell.

Butterflies are in a mosh pit in the pit of my stomach as I try to push past it.

"It was great meeting you too, Jax," I say quietly, watching him walk down the aisle before turning to leave.

I take one last glimpse over my shoulder, seeing Jax suddenly stop in his tracks before backing up a few steps. He looks at the selections again before grabbing a bottle of pink Moscato. Glancing down at the label, a faint smile dances on his lips as he lowers it into his cart before disappearing to another aisle.

Did that seriously just happen?