Life moves at unpredictable speeds. Progress fluctuates. A thousand things can happen in one week, and absolutely nothing can happen over months.

Change is inconsistently constant.

Mom tells me it's normal to have changed my mind on what I want so many times in the last few months. Nineteen is the time to stumble, climb, change direction, veer off course and come back again.

Things are falling into place though. Things are starting to feel right, comfortable, exciting.

It's strange to think I was absolutely sure I wanted to live in New York and go into clothing with Bernie just a few months ago, and now, I'm standing in mom and dad's kitchen with impending news that takes me in an entirely different direction.

It's been three weeks since I came home from my first date with Roman. He kissed me goodnight on the doorstep and it was a night more beautiful than I could've imagined.

"Uh," I say to mom and dad who are sitting at the breakfast bar with their coffee and cream cheese bagels. "I'm moving back to Texas."

Their heads snap towards me.

"Like, moving, settling," I confirm. "Because I went to New York after rehab for supervision purposes and I never saw it as a permanent move. I figured I'd go back to california soon enough and then I decided to go back to New York instead. I definitely never thought I would move back to Texas. But this is where I want to be."

There was nothing but silence for half a second and then dad shouted with such loud excitement, mom and I jumped.

"Fuck YES," he stood up, his stool sliding backward and crashing against the tiled floor.

It was less than a second later when I was being crushed by a suffocating hug. His reaction didn't surprise me, dad had wanted me home ever since I left rehab.

"You ever seen one of those little houses? The tiny but functional ones?" He asks, going for his phone sitting next to mom who can't stop smiling. "I'm getting one. We'll build it out in the back garden. You can decorate it."

"Unless," mom gives dad a look to suggest he slows down. "Abby wants to move back to Texas and get her own apartment?"

Dad pauses his pursuit and looks between the two of us. "Oh, of course. Yeah. Your own place, that makes sense. You're an adult. Independent. All of that."

Mom purses her lips, fighting a smile because we can both see dad is doing his absolute best not to try and persuade my choice in his favour.

He doesn't have to though. I've thought about all of this while I've been staying in my old bedroom. I spent so many years wishing I didn't have to live at home, and as soon as I could, I left, off to find bigger and better. Part of me wishes I'd soaked up the time I had with mom and dad. It was never going to last long and I didn't realise that soon enough.

Dad offering me a little house in the back garden was an unexpected bonus though. It'd be nice to have that sense of space without going too far.

"A little house in the back garden sounds cute," I tell dad, watching his expression light up. "But is that a waste of time? What will you do with it when I do move out, eventually. Because I can't live here forever."

"It'll be a guest house," mom suggests, pulling her morning bed hair into a bun.

Dad watches her. "Or we can turn it into a shag shack."

"I'm not traipsing across the back garden that often," mom waves a dismissive hand at him and I lightly laugh.

Some things never change and I wouldn't want them to. The love mom and dad have for each other is something that's never let me down. Sure, I don't need all of the details, and our family is a little too comfortable with their sharing at times, but it's who we are and I'm grateful for them.

"Honey," mom looks at me, her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. "You're not moving here for Roman, right? I know you like him and he's wonderful, but this choice is only going to work if it's for you. You seemed really happy in New York. Working on the clothing with Bernie."

Dad leans a palm on the bench top and stares at mom, murmuring in a low voice. "What the fuck are you doing, woman?"

"It's not about him," I tell them, looking out the window at the morning sunshine hitting the window panes, the tall trees full of summer leaves surround the garden and remain still, not a breeze to rustle them.

"It's about me," I say. "I'm not ready to be in New York. It's hard to describe but the vibe there is. . . different. There's this subtle pressure all the time to look and behave a certain way and even though I'm more confident than I have been, it's still hard to ignore this standard."

Mom watches me, reaching across to take my hand.

"And I love the work Bernie and I do, and I'll keep on supporting her but I can't stay in New York for that alone," I say, guilt surfacing because while I've been talking to Bernie, I haven't told her I've decided to come home.

"I'm still healing," I let out a sharp breath, knowing dad is listening. "I almost relapsed about a month ago. I did a little photo shoot with Bernie, I figured it would be fine. But it wasn't. I ended up asking Amalia for help, which was hard but it reminded me that the people who love me want to help."

"Asking for help just proves how far you've come, princess," dad's eyes were raw with emotion and instead of hiding from it, I embraced it. "We're proud as hell."

"We are," mom agrees as dad moves to stand behind her, dropping his arms over her shoulders.

"You know, when I first left rehab, I was a real bitch about coming back here," I admit. "I was terrified of relapsing and I couldn't stand the thought of hurting you both again. I figured it would be better to be with Max and Amalia who were busy with their own lives and wouldn't notice if I was struggling."

Amalia did notice though. She was vigilant and caring but not over bearing. Having her and Bernie support me through those first few months was exactly what I needed.

"Home is the last place I thought I'd want to be but I haven't felt this settled in a long time," I tell them, smiling. "And it's not just because of Roman."

Roman and I had been on four more dates since that first one at the carnival. And those dates were all dinner. Roman insisted on getting to know each other, and that's what we've been doing.

Our dates are just talking, for hours. There's no activities to distract ourselves from forming a connection. It's conversation, with no barriers between us and at the end of the night, he drops me off at home, kisses me goodnight and leaves.

Dad is practically in love with him.

The doorbell rings and before I can get up to answer it, dad shouts, "it's open!"

"If you yell one more time," mom holds her chest while she glares at dad. "I will—"

"Sit on my face?" Dad offers just as Roman walks into the kitchen wearing a backwards cap and white t-shirt with a plaid flannel tied at his waist.

He does a wonderful job of pretending he didn't hear my father. In all the time we've spent talking, he's been filled on how this family operates and he doesn't discriminate.

"Oh," dad looks at him. "We were just talking about you."

Roman blinks. "I really hope that wasn't in relation to the comment you just made."

I laugh, admiring the bouquet in his hand and in a move that doesn't surprise me, he hands the flowers to mom.

"Mrs Lahey," he gives her a small smile. "Abby said you love Lily's. Those are from our own garden. Rian did the arrangement."

"I do love them, they're my favourite flower. These are beautiful," mom coos, running a finger down one of the big white petals. "How sweet. You didn't have to do that."

"You moving in on my woman?" Dad stares at Roman, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Shut up, Drayton."

"No," Roman laughs. "I'm really into your daughter though."

My stomach flutters when he looks at me and winks.

My family is important to me and anyone who can respectfully keep up, makes a huge difference.

Mom goes to the cabinet, gets a vase and starts filling it with water for her flowers. Roman wouldn't need a reason to do something like that, it's just who he is. Traditional, respectful, thoughtful.

I stand up off the kitchen stool and step into his arms in a warm hug. He's so tall, my head rests on his chest and he smells like clean wood and fresh rain water. It's natural and masculine.

"What are you doing here?" I lean back, keeping my arms clasped behind his back.

"You're heading off to New York tonight, right?"

I nod. We're having a small reunion at Max and Amalia's. I'm willing to bet they're engaged and want to share the news. It's being disguised as a casual get together, but I call bullshit. 

"I just wanted to come and say goodbye before you go," Roman says, looking down at me before his gaze flicks over to where mom and dad are standing at the kitchen sink.

"Stop it, Drayton," mom slaps dads hand as he tries to pluck one of the Lily's out of the bouquet.

"Just let me make a corsage out of one. We can recreate prom night. No stopping this time though."

"Let's go outside," I take Roman's hand and we head out to the foyer and onto the front doorstep. We spend a lot of time on this doorstep.

His pick up truck sits on the drive, little dings in the bumper and guards. It's cute though.

"Prom night?" Roman asks, pulling me in at the waist.

"Please don't ask." 

He grins and gives me a kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling? About New York?" He asks.

Roman knew what this trip meant, I'd been totally honest with him about Flynn and the history we share and how our break up was more of a drift apart than an abrupt ending. It wasn't malicious either. Flynn would always be a part of who I am but not in the way he used to be.

"I'm feeling. . .  a bit nervous," I admit. "I just don't want to hurt him and as far as he knew, I needed to be alone. I feel like it's going to be hard for him to know I've moved on but, I have to be honest."

Roman didn't say anything, he just kissed my forehead again and pulled me into his chest.

"You weren't part of the plan," I mumble and he steps back, giving me a curious look. "I was meant to be doing me and focusing on self discovery and then you came literally out of nowhere and I just don't want to do the whole 'right person, wrong time' crap because I did that with Flynn and wasted such a long time not being with him and I regret that because even though we're not together now, I wouldn't take back our relationship for anything. Does that make sense? Or am I rambling?" 

"Right person, huh?" Roman grins.

"Maybe," my nose crunches in a shy smile.

"I really like you," Roman says. "I'm in this if you are but at the same time, if you decided you weren't ready right now, I would understand that too."

"I know," I tiptoe and kiss his lips, throwing my arms around his neck.

The kiss picks up pace, his hands travel the length of my back and he pulls me in tight.

The door swings open and we break apart to find dad standing there, his slow accusing stare moving between us.

"Oh, there you are. I was wondering what the fuck happened to you both."

"Here we are," I say.

"This doorstep has seen more action over the last three weeks than any room in this house."

"Yeah, sure dad," I push his chest so he steps back inside and pull the door closed on his offended face.

"Are you sure he likes me," Roman asks when we're alone again. "I know you said he does, but I'm getting mixed signals."

"That's just what he's like," I assure him, stepping back into his arms. "He thinks you're great. I think you're great too. Now, don't keep me in suspense, I know there's a new haircut under that cap and I want to see it."

Roman turns a cute crimson red. He told me on the phone last night that he'd agreed to let Rian cut his hair. She's forever self teaching herself new skills and figured she could become the family hairdresser. I'm nervous but I don't tell Roman that.

He grips the backwards cap at the rim and slowly pulls it off, letting his dark brown waves spring free.

"Oh my goodness," I say, circling him, running my fingers through the strands. "It's actually so nice. I mean, it's not a dramatic change but she did a good job, I like it."

His hair, once curling around the base of his neck is shorter, not a lot shorter and it's still full and in a mess that works so well on him. I stand back and admire how hot he is. Like, a gorgeous, masculine, sun kissed mass of a man and I feel tingly all over just looking at him.

"The horses are next," he slips his cap on backwards and the edges of his waves peep out.

"The horses?"

"Yep, no one is safe. Apparently we're trimming manes now."

"I love that Rian is super into self taught skills and hobbies though. She can cut my hair too if she wants. Just a trim, nothing outrageous."

Roman takes the end of my long ponytail and wraps it around his fist. "Your hair is beautiful. I don't know if I want my sister taking scissors to it."

"You've got a good grip there," I lift a brow and grin.

He ducks his head, I can see the smile he's fighting as he let's go of my hair and runs a hand across his face.

"You into that?" He slips his hands into his pockets and watches me.

"Oh for sure," I meet his stare and smile, it's playful and light but the promise his eyes are making goes much, much deeper.

"Good to know," he says.

"Gonna bank that one for future use?"

"I sure am."

My stomach erupts. "You know, one of these days I'm going to invite you upstairs. When my mom and dad aren't home of course."

"I'll be patiently waiting until then," he says. "No matter how long it takes."

I know he means it.

Taking my hand again, he pulls me in close, kisses me hard and takes my breath away. "Have a good time in New York," he mumbles against my lips. "Call me?"

"I will," I say, knowing I'm going to miss him while I'm gone.

However, I'm looking forward to the whole family being together again. That's always. . . fun.