“I worry that between all you’ve got on your plate with your jobs and studying that you are burning the candle at both ends.”

“I have no classes this semester. Believe me, if I could do all this while I was going to school, I can do it now. Don’t worry, Mom. Now I get to ask you how you’re doing.”

“Oh,” she said lightly. “I’m just great. Things are looking up for me.”

I frowned. Looking up? Had she gotten to be a better liar when I wasn’t noticing or were things actually improving for her? “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

“I’m—I’m not really ready to talk about it.”

I sat back, bewildered. Was Mom finally dating again? I blew out a breath. She’d never had any relationships the entire time I was growing up. She had male friends in the community and I know some of them may have wanted a romantic relationship, but my mom had never been interested. When I was a teen, I asked her why she never dated and she shrugged and said she was waiting for me to grow up. Well, I was grown up now. Had she finally decided to get on with her life?

“If it was something serious, you’d tell me…right?”

“Of course,” she said evasively.

We hung up a few minutes later and I stared at my phone for long moments. That was one of the weirdest phone calls I’d had with my mom in a long time. She was always an open book with me.

But who was I to talk, really? I was keeping one hell of a secret from her. One that, if she ever discovered it, would hurt her. I had no right to go digging in her business if I wasn’t prepared to open up about mine. But still, I was worried. I was protective of my mom and given her experience with the Biological Sperm Donor, she hadn’t chosen well in the past.

But Mom was smart and I had to trust that she’d learned from her mistakes. So to take my mind off of my worries and given the fact that I didn’t have much to pack, I spent most of the day before my departure wasting monsters on Dragon Epoch. I kept checking the player list for FallenOne but I was not in luck. My notifications list said that he hadn’t logged in since that day we had played together weeks before.

***

The next day I was on a flight to Amsterdam with a small overnight bag. I had packed light, per Adam’s instructions. He’d clarified in later e-mails that he’d gotten my dress size from Heath and would have some clothes waiting for me. I’m sure he guessed, after spending five minutes in my little dive, that I wouldn’t have clothing fit to be seen at a place like Amstel Amsterdam.

I traveled in my most comfortable pair of jeans, a T-shirt and walking shoes, with a small bag of toiletries and unmentionables tucked under the enormous recliner in first class.

I’d gone through every short line at the airport and not a single person blinked an eye at my scruffy clothing and threadbare backpack. Everything was full service and everybody catered to my whim.

I’d had a glass of chilled white wine at the first-class lounge. It took the edge off of traveling alone and the uncertainty of what I’d be facing in the Netherlands. I snacked on smoked salmon and crème fraiche to go with the wine. The jitters only dulled instead of dissipating.

But the plane ride was something else entirely. I’d have fifteen hours of travel, yet, before I would touch down in Amsterdam. So I enjoyed myself in the top floor front of the immense 747. Shortly after takeoff for a direct flight to London, I was served more wine and handed a full menu. Dinner came on a white tablecloth with china and full silverware. I unabashedly enjoyed the pampering and lovely, lilting British accents spoken all around me.

I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane—living true to the term “red-eye” flight as my eyes were scratchy and gritty by the time I’d deplaned.

Upon our arrival in London, an airline employee greeted me, holding up a card with my name on it. She showed me down to the Heathrow First Class lounge and spa, giving me a list of all the appointments she’d made on my behalf. Then I was treated to a manicure, pedicure and facial before being handed a towel and a shiny green and gold shopping bag. Then she led me into a private bathroom with shower.

After the long plane ride, it felt like heaven. And I still had a few hours before the flight to Amsterdam. The bag contained new clothes—the tags still on them from Harrods department store. A smart dark green and black sundress and even new underthings—silk panties and a matching, lacy bra. I blushed to look at them, but felt so pretty when I wore them that I could hardly be upset at the presumption.

I’d never been spoiled before. And I could definitely see the appeal. I applied my makeup and dried and styled my hair and felt like a fresh, new person. I’d stepped into a whole new world, like a modern-day fairy tale. It was just a short, one-hour hop from here to Amsterdam, and Adam, who was waiting for me.