I wanted to stay with my sister and Alan and the kids for as long as I could stay with my sister and Alan and the kids since I intended to move as soon as I could to Arizona, and I wouldn’t be able to see them whenever I wanted to see them.

But I was wiped and being wiped and needing sleep and clear headspace to get on with doing what I needed to do were not conducive to having two kids under the age of ten in the house.

“I’m gonna crash at my place,” I told her. “And I’ll be fine,” I assured hurriedly, hoping she’d believe me even knowing she wouldn’t. “I just need to get my head together¸ start getting other things together, and maybe tomorrow night I can come and stay with you?”

“You can stay with us anytime, you know that,” she replied.

I did.

And I would.

For as long as it took me to sort things out with work, get my house on the market, and get the hell out of Denver.

“Right,” I said. “I’m almost home. When I get there, I’m going right to bed. When I can think straight, I’ll call you and we’ll plan. Okay?”

“Okay, Mill. Whatever you need.”

That was what it had always been from Dottie.

Whatever I needed.

And nearly two weeks ago, after I’d driven like a lunatic to get home after what happened at The Roll, packing like a crazy person, only grabbing the things I needed, all this so I could get out of there and fast just in case Logan got a wild hair and followed me, she’d again done just that.

Given me what I needed.

I’d woken them up when I’d made it to their house. Then I’d blathered and bawled, letting it all hang out, everything from what happened in Logan’s RV to Hop singing “Far Behind” and all the rest.

As he listened, Alan, a good man, a good husband, a guy who loved his wife like crazy and loved her sister, too, had kept it together by the skin of his teeth. I knew he was close to ballistic. That ballistic being hunting Logan down and giving it his all to beat the crap out of him (which would be an interesting scenario, as Alan was a badass so it would be a close match, though I suspected Logan would fight dirty).

But he didn’t lose it because at that moment he needed to be all about me and doing what he could to help his woman help her sister.

And that he did.

Dottie had kept it totally together, as usual, and got online to get me covered.

She’d also let me borrow things to take with me. Once sorted, something that at Dottie’s hand didn’t take long, we got in the car and she stole me away to the airport.

It had taken ages but I’d eventually landed in France. I’d then had my first vacation since... ever... doing it the first week communicating liberally with Claire, Justine, Dottie, and various clients. I did this with the girls so they had my work covered (it took all of them pitching in... and they all did, loved my girls and owed them huge).

I’d also phoned my parents in Arizona and sorted that out.

Then I’d found a real estate agent.

Last, I’d had several in-depth conversations with Claire, who had been with me a long time, who knew what she was doing, demonstrated this repeatedly over the years but did it more by covering my shit while I took off to another country and had a mini nervous breakdown.

She was considering buying me out. It’d take her years. She’d have to do it in installments. And she didn’t much like the idea. She liked working with me and actually preferred being an assistant and not having the headaches of being the boss.

But she knew she was good at what she did, the clients knew her and trusted her, she could keep Cross Events functioning and successful, and she could make a whole lot more as the boss.

So she was considering it.

That was all I’d managed to do while I was away, partly because I was in a different time zone on a different continent, so there wasn’t much more I could do.

But mostly it was because I was taking my first vacation... ever... and I was in Paris.

And I was in Paris at the perfect time because it was November, the place wasn’t overrun with tourists, and there were actually Parisians in the city (Parisians, I was told while I was there, did their best to take off when the place was covered in tourists). Thus I decided my experience was more authentic.

It was chilly but it was amazing. So beautiful it almost seemed unreal.

So I ate. I drank. I roamed. I shopped. I got on tour buses, rode, took pictures, and listened to not very good tapes telling me what things were. I got out of the city and saw Versailles. I sat in spectacular gardens and people watched. I spoke broken French to French people who were a lot friendlier than I’d expected them to be.

I had intended to spend two full weeks there but it finally occurred to me I was hemorrhaging money having a Parisian getaway/breakdown when my future was uncertain. Therefore, I cut my visit two days short, thus necessitating a variety of flight changes that were not the greatest.

But they got me home.

And I got what I needed from Paris.

I’d come to terms with what was left of my life.

And what I came to terms with was that I was not beaten.

I was angry.

Twenty years ago, I’d broken up with Logan. Yes, we were in love, deeply in love. Yes, we were happy. Yes, we had it all.

Because I gave it all to him.

Sure, he gave it back but I was the best old lady ever. Keely absolutely adored Black, she had old lady down pat, but I was even better than her.

And I was totally better than Naomi, who, frankly, was mostly a bitch (so I was glad Tack had moved on, though I was not admitting it since I was also ticked at Tack and his new woman).

And most importantly, I’d ended it for him.

For Logan.

Logan didn’t know that but I did, damn it.

What I didn’t do was cheat on him. Steal from him. Stick him with a knife while he was sleeping because he didn’t buy me a diamond bracelet I wanted (since I didn’t want any diamond bracelet, just him). Burn down the house in a fit of pique to make a point about him not doing the dishes.

We were together.

We broke up.

Twenty years ago.

People broke up all the time!

He had to get over himself.

But he’d have to do it without me.

He thought I had to pay? Well, maybe he was right and I knew he didn’t know (and I wasn’t going to tell him, not ever), so being the man he was, he would think that.

And I’d paid.

Now I was done.

No more.

I hoped I communicated that to him and the rest of them that horrible night at The Roll. I’d also spoken to Kellie and she told me what she’d told them, so if I didn’t communicate it to them, I hoped what she said did.

But it didn’t matter. I had set my course and it was time for massive change. A new life away from any possibility of seeing Logan at my home, having his people mess with my life, or even seeing him at a Chipotle ordering a burrito.

I just hoped I could avoid any of that kind of thing before I was able to get myself gone. There was a lot to do. It would probably take weeks.

During that time, after I got preliminary stuff sorted, I’d stay at Dottie and Alan’s. I could work from there, too, unless I had to see a client, which meant going to my studio. And being at Dot and Alan’s, I would hope, would mean Logan wouldn’t mess with me.

But if anything happened, if any of them did one single thing, I was calling the cops.

Fuck them.

All of them.

Especially Logan.

He was dead to me.

All of Chaos were.

They had to be so I could get on with what was left of my life.

This was what I was intent on doing (after I slept for three days) when the taxi dropped me off behind my house. The driver took my luggage out of the trunk and put it inside the back door. I gave him a good tip. He smiled and I didn’t watch as he got in his cab and rolled away.