Stiff with tension, Yael tried to work the kinks from her shoulders. After speaking with the detective the other day, she'd taken it upon herself to sort through some of the paperwork from Peter's department, searching for answers. She'd spent the entire morning looking at a stack of files and what she found disturbed her. Peter used to be a big believer in micromanaging—doling out tasks to those under him, being an encouraging and educational leader, even going as far as filing important documents in triplicate. The Warren Street project, where the crane had been, was different. Peter handled every single piece of paper, permit, and information himself. For that construction site only. It didn't make sense. Plus, she found no evidence of the permit for the crane being filed at all. So how did it get into the city offices?

She pushed away from her desk and paced, stretching her legs and refusing to believe Peter would deliberately sabotage her family's company just to make Casey look bad. It wasn't even about Casey. If Peter was responsible, how could he do it to her? Hurting Casey, hurt her family and, in turn, her. It baffled Yael to no end.

Desperate to dispel the increasingly answer staring at her, she tossed a couple files in her satchel and fled, punching digits into her phone.

"Hey, Yael." Wendy answered.

"Cantina break?"

"Absolutely! When?"

"Half an hour? Is that too soon? I'm leaving work early."

"Say no more. I'll be there."

The fresh summer air invigorated Yael and cleared the cobwebs from her head. Late afternoon sunlight streamed between the buildings and her stomach rumbled. She considered stopping by Miriam's afterwards, but didn't want to deal with the stark reality of her illness at the moment. It'd been a tough couple days and the idea of watching her waste away terrified Yael. And, because her grandmother had been so weak, they hadn't had a chance to talk about Miriam's impression of Haustin.

Yael made her way to her and Wendy's favorite college hangout, a Mexican restaurant called Bob's Cantina. She smiled at the memories as she approached the bright green door—late nights studying and flirting with other customers, Wendy's twentieth birthday party, sitting at a table by the window watching snowflakes drift down and wishing they actually were in Mexico instead. It was a miracle the place still existed. It didn't look like much, and the name might have been deceivingly simple, but the place served amazing, authentic cuisine. Hopefully, it hadn't changed.

Bowls of homemade chips and salsa were being delivered when Wendy breezed in and gave her drink order to the server.

"I thought about this place the other day and how we needed to come here for old time's sake." She unwound a thin fuchsia and dark purple scarf from her neck. "You don't look too good. I'm glad you called."

"Rough day, rough week. You know how it gets. Good and bad days." She drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm thankful there are more good days than bad, though."

"You're dealing with the lows better, too."

"I love that you get it. All you have to do is look at me to know what's going on."

"Now I'm extra glad you called. What's up?" She dug into the salsa with a chip and fixed her concerned dark eyes on Yael.

Here, with her best friend, Yael spoke the ugly truth.

"A little bit of everything." She unclenched her teeth. "I think I've taken on too much without realizing it. Between work and Miriam and Haustin, I'm not finding a lot of chances to concentrate on staying clean. My alone time is gone. And to top it all off, a detective visited me, asking questions about Peter and Casey in connection to the accidents we've had, which threw me for a loop. I thought after a year I'd be better at dealing." She avoided Wendy's gaze, staring hard at the table. "The addict nightmares started again, the ones that put me in a room full of all my vices and no exit. This morning I woke up shaking so violently I thought I'd break. I swear, if I'd had any in the house, I'd have used it. What if I made a mistake deciding to come to New York?"

"You didn't, and I have faith you would have ignored the temptation had it been there." Wendy reached across the table and stroked her arm. "I've been worried about you, Yael. When you told me you were coming home, I was ecstatic. It also scared me to death."

"Why?"

"Reconciling with Miriam is wonderful, but letting her guilt trip you into taking on a career you don't want is another thing."

"I don't think she necessarily guilt-tripped me into working."

"No? You jumped in with both feet and no preparation. I know you're putting in over forty hours a week with this project. That's a lot. And you can't deny part of it is to appease your grandmother."

"It's a double-edged sword," Yael explained with a hint of frustration. "Working gives me confidence, puts me in the world again instead of hiding behind an oven. I love being there and the challenges it presents." She sighed. "On the other hand, those same challenges put me under a lot of stress, and I miss my oven."

"It's stress you don't need," Wendy reiterated.

"And again, I can argue that learning to handle stress without turning to heroin is important. Every time it feels like it's too much, I bake, but baking only reminds me of what I truly want to do."

"You're right, there are two sides." Wendy paused. "Is getting out an option?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid to ask, not because Miriam would say no. What's holding me back is the look of disappointment I'm afraid I'll see on her face."

"All you have to do is talk to her. You've mentioned how open and honest your conversations have been. If opening a bakery is what you really want, tell her. She'll understand."

"I guess." Wendy narrowed her eyes. "Okay. Fine. I'll find a way to bring it up."

They ate in silence for a bit. "What about Haustin? How are things there?"

"Up and down. I met his kids, which was great. He and I have undeniable chemistry, but I introduced him to Miriam a couple of days ago and haven't seen him since. Just random texts, but you know what their rotations can be like, and yesterday was July Fourth, I'm sure they've been crazy with drunken idiots and fireworks."

"It went that bad with Miriam?"

"I don't know. He isn't saying, and I'm nervous to bring it up to Miriam. The last forty-eight hours have been tough for her."

"Meeting each other's families is a big step."

"You sound like Casey. It is a big step, but it feels right. It gave me the opportunity to see how he is with his kids, if he's different when I'm around. According to them, he is, a lot. And if this thing he and I have goes anywhere, I wanted him to meet Miriam before she's gone."

"This is where the whole Haustin thing scares me." Her friend rushed on before Yael could interject. "Don't get me wrong, there's a potentially great story unfolding between the two of you, but there are some very stark realities they don't mention in books and movies."

"Like what?"

Wendy's finger jabbed the table for emphasis. "You are a recovering drug addict, Haustin is a functioning one. Alex grudgingly told me some stuff, and I don't want to see you involved in what could easily become a dependent relationship. You might think a year is long enough, sweetie, but it's not. You're still vulnerable."

Her speech disturbed Yael. As far as she knew, Haustin didn't rely on pills that often, only when things got bad. At least that was how he made it sound. Maybe he'd gotten as good at lying about his addiction as she had. Yael frowned. Wendy might have a point about the dependency thing. Worrying about his sobriety impacted hers at a time when she needed to be selfish and take care of herself. If he was hiding how deep his problem went, it could change the whole dynamic of their relationship. It'd have to, for her sake.

"Okay, I get it. I'm walking a thin line. My feelings for him are real, though. I'm invested. Walking away," she felt pain erupt in her chest at the possibility, "is not an option. Not yet. I'm aware of the dangers and I promise to be careful. Does any of this make sense?"

"Yes, and I do trust you, but my biggest worry is you staying to make him happy, to keep him from self-destructing and save him from the hell you think he'd put himself through." She pursed her lips. "Whatever you decide, whatever happens, I'm here for ya, babe."

"I know. Haustin is my first actual relationship. Since being clean, I mean. I am trying to be cautious, but he's easy to get lost in. Our connection is deep, like soul deep, which sounds ridiculous." She chuckled. "This is why the counselors advise us to start with caring for a plant, or a pet. Not a human."

"You killed my spider plant, so that wouldn't have worked, and you're allergic to cats."

"Goldfish?"

"Not sturdy enough." Wendy smirked. "The last person I saw you semi-serious with was Tate, in California."

"Yeah. Wasn't expecting him." Yael smiled at the memory. "He was perfect; hot, sweet, deeply involved in philanthropy. I chose a road he had no business following me down."

Tate Lynch. Yael rarely thought about him, about how she hurt him. She'd known the drugs were taking her someplace bad but made no attempt to stop it. He tried to help her, to fix her hurts. A software engineer, Tate spent most of his time raising money for disaster relief and children in third world countries, so she made damn sure her ghosts never touched his public life. He had one of those pure souls so rare in this world. The last time she saw him was her first trip to rehab, on family day. Strung out and in the grips of withdrawal, she said terrible things to him, making a half-conscious effort to ensure he never came back, which he did, twice, but she refused him each time. The expression on his face when he left that last day continued to haunt her and remind her of the damage she was capable of.

"He's engaged now," Wendy shared, watching her closely.

"Good for him. I mean it, I have fond memories of Tate. Whether or not he knew it, he helped me in the beginning, but being with him masked my deeper issues. It's funny, now I'm thinking about him, he reminds me a lot of Casey. Both are passionate and driven, wicked sense of humor."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Surprising."

"And any good vibes from Casey?"

"What kind of good vibes? Have you forgotten Haustin?"

"Hey, it never hurts to keep your options open." Wendy winked as she sipped the last of her margarita.

"I haven't seen him with any women."

"You're looking?"

"Not in the way you're suggesting. He's young, successful, super hot. I figured he would be gracing Page Six or other gossip sites and dating supermodels."

"Maybe he's asexual," her friend shrugged.

Yael considered it, feeling a tad disappointed at the notion. "I guess it's possible."

"Too bad. Means he isn't interested in the parts you have to offer."

"Wendy! I'm not offering him anything. Get your mind out of the gutter. Even if he is into women, I'm not exactly his type."

"What? Gorgeous? Rich? No, nothing appealing there at all."

She rolled her eyes at Wendy's sarcasm. "Ex-addict and head case."

"Bullshit. He'd be lucky to have you."

Shifting the focus off of her, Yael asked, "Since we're discussing men, what about you and Alex?"

Yael got a thrill out of her friend's deep blush. "Alex and I are pretty awesome. He's adventurous and sexy, not full of himself like you'd expect by looking at him, and smart, well-read, which I wasn't expecting." Wendy fussed with her napkin. "He keeps talking about us finding a place to move in together, and it should send me into a full-blown panic considering we've only been dating for six months. I met him the day after returning from seeing you in L.A. this last time. It was kind of karmic. I was happy, knowing you were the healthiest I'd seen you in years, and not even looking. But he found me."

"I say go for it. If there's one thing I've learned over the last decade, it's that life is too short."

"Then you'll be pleased to know I'm leaning towards jumping. Feels right."

"I'm happy for you, Wendy. He's one of the good ones." She folded her arms on the table. "And speaking of moving, I'm ready to make my return more permanent, especially after we talked about it that night. I sent for the rest of my stuff from California yesterday. Veronica is boxing it up for me. It's time to close that chapter for good."

"Oh my God! Are you serious?" Yael nodded. Wendy's face lit up, and she rushed around the table to hug Yael. After sitting back down, she gushed, "Best news ever! I can't wait to help you look. What do you want? An apartment? A loft? What about Miriam's when she, you know.... Yes, it is callous, but that house is amazing."

A flicker of something akin to longing sprouted in her chest, but it felt wrong to even let it exist. "Miriam already mentioned it, but the place is too stuffy for me, it's practically a museum. If I'm trying to get away from ghosts, are you sure it'd be the smartest idea? Wouldn't it be kind of morbid?"

"Not if you gut it and start fresh. You can make the place your own, modern and updated."

Yael had never considered that option, and it tempted her. If she combined the front rooms into a single, large one and widened the windows to let in more light, it'd make a world of difference. Oh God, she was horrible.

But hours later, as she lay in bed, the idea lingered. Her mind wandered through each room, making improvements and changes. She loved the location and the building itself. Shame if it passed out of the family after a century. Suddenly, she imagined a tiny dark-haired child running down the upstairs hall, feet pattering on the floor and a giggle tickling the edges of her soul, stirring up a longing that took her breath away. She hadn't felt comfortable enough in her life to picture having kids, didn't entertain the possibility because it scared her to death. This image, and the emotions it uncovered, filled her with longing. More than her control over her cravings or the ability to handle her losses, it showed the extent of her recovery and that normalcy lay within reach. Still, it was hard to move past the crippling uncertainty. Could she live in her grandmother's home? Could she raise a child? What did the future hold for her? Often, she was too frightened to look. Maybe it was time to get over that fear.

When she heard the elevator door slide open, she smiled into her pillow.

She hadn't told Wendy, but she'd already given Haustin a key and informed the doorman he was welcome any hour of the day. Having him around beat the utter loneliness she often felt wandering the halls of her old home.

Yael listened to Haustin creep into the bedroom and take off his clothes. As he crawled into bed with her, the scent of fresh soap and smoke drifted around her, followed by the unmistakable hint of whiskey. His arms followed, and she stiffened, put off by the fact he'd been drinking and wishing she had a magic solution to take away all his pain.