Author's note: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! I appreciate all of the support you guys have given my story!

Warning: Some angst.


Caroline was ready to reach through the phone and pull out Klaus' tongue. He was far too smug for his own good. "While I've come to appreciate your colorful diatribes, love, I'm a bit confused as to where this particular rant stems from. You expressed dismay at not understanding your schoolwork and I provided a solution."

"Your solution was to have Warren Buffett call me. One of the most famous CEO billionaires in the world taught me about stock valuation, capital structure, and budgeting! He insisted that I interview him for my class project!"

He paused, as though carefully considering her words, but his voice was tinged with amusement as he asked, "Are you implying that you'd be less vexed if I'd had Elon Musk call you instead?"

"Elon Musk?! Seriously?!" She shook her head in exasperation. "This isn't about that! It's the mansion and the car and the over-the-top baby gifts and AND then you somehow just happened to know Warren Buffett and Elon Musk and honestly how many famous people do you even know?!"

"It seems that the crux of your concerns is that your life is going well?"

While his teasing was infuriating, she couldn't help the insecurities and fears that always simmered below the surface. She blurted out, "I've never feltsosafeandsecure and it's like I havearealfamily now and I'm terrified that it's allgoingtogoaway!"

Klaus' gentle tone almost brought her to tears. Stupid hormones. "Sweetheart, I didn't realize you still felt that way. I can assure you Rebekah considers you family and she'd rip this world apart before she'd let you come to harm. And I..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I've grown quite fond of you."

"That's um...I mean, I uh..." Caroline stuttered, unsure of what to say. At least they were on the phone so he couldn't see how red her face must be. Did Klaus like her? Is that what was happening? "I like you too," she ventured, barely resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut in embarrassment as she sat at a stoplight.

"Then it sounds like we've much to discuss. Perhaps I could interest you in dinner tonight?"

Caroline's heart was thudding in her chest and she wondered if the grin on her face looked as goofy as it felt. "I'd like that," she replied shyly.

"Then I'll see you tonight, love," Klaus answered, fortunately disconnecting the call before she let out a silly little squeal.

She was going on a date. With Klaus. She did her best not to immediately think of all the ways this could go wrong and just live in the moment. Things were coming together for her in ways she couldn't have imagined — she had people who cared about her and her baby, she finally lived in a safe place more beautiful than she'd ever dreamed, and she'd even figured out how to handle school and work. It wasn't the life she thought she'd have, but it was the one that she wanted.

As the sign for her exit appeared, the pit in her stomach returned. She started sweating the moment her mother's house came into view. It was time. She slowly trudged up the porch steps, the old wooden porch swing creaking as it moved back and forth in the breeze. The front door opened before she could knock, her mother cutting a formidable figure as she studied Caroline intently.

"Mother." Her voice caught in her throat, and she wasn't sure what to make of the way Liz mechanically moved to the side to allow her to cross the threshold. The house still smelled of that cheap vinegar cleaner her mother used on everything, and with Caroline's new sensitivities to strong odors, it made her gag. She sat on the lumpy couch, staring at the familiar frosted glass swans her mother always displayed on the end tables.

"Well, you didn't come here for nothing. What's wrong?"

Her mother's no-nonsense voice still made her feel like a scolded child, and Caroline inwardly cringed at how small she felt in her domineering presence. "We've never been close. Even as a kid, I never felt that connection you're supposed to feel about a mother. And from the way you avoided me or criticized me when you bothered to remember I was around, I assume you feel the same way about me." She could tell from her mother's wide eyes she'd shocked her into an uncharacteristic silence.

"We never learned how to be a family," she hurriedly pressed on, "but maybe there's still time for us to get it right." Her cheerful tone sounded strained even to her ears, but the hope it contained was real. She wanted this to work.

With an irritated sigh, Liz said, "Caroline, if you just came here to be unpleasant, I'd like you to leave."

"Unpleasant? Seriously?! I came here to tell you...to tell you that...I'm pregnant."

A heavy silence fell; the only sound was the cruel ticking of a dusty wall clock. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been in this room, but she doubted she'd ever felt as vulnerable and alone as she did now. When she finally ventured a look at her mother, she nearly reeled back against the couch cushion as though she'd been struck. The cold indifference she saw made her want to scream, but she settled for angry and defensive. "Well? Say something!"

"What would you like me to say? That you've ruined your life? Surely you're smart enough to already know that."

Caroline let the anger come. Anything to stop the tears. "I haven't ruined my life! My baby is going to have the best life I can give; the life you were too selfish to give me."

Her mother's brown eyes flashed angrily as she dug her fingers into the top of the chair. "Oh, so you think having a baby will just fix your life? It won't fix what's wrong with you." She muttered disdainfully, "It's just not worth the effort — trust me."

Her heart hurt. Caroline's whole world crumbled at her mother's words. "I didn't come here to get a lecture. I came here because I thought.."

"You thought what? That you screwed up your life and need me to bail you out?"

Damn it — here came the tears. Stupid hormones. "No! I thought that I'm having a baby and I'm afraid and thought that my mother would want to be a part of my life. That you'd want to be a part of my baby's life!"

Angrily wiping away tears, Caroline yelled, "Dad didn't just leave you — he left me too. And you acted like it was my fault!"

"I don't understand why you feel the need to bring up such ugly things. You were always such a dramatic child," her mother sighed, "your father was overly sensitive too."

She was done. Caroline felt the fight leave her right then. She'd been experiencing fatigue lately from the pregnancy, but this was different. It was a bone-weariness that weighed on her soul. She'd promised herself that if her mother couldn't see how terrible she'd treated her all of these years, she'd never allow her near the baby. No more chances.

Taking a shuddering breath, Caroline told her, "You won't do this to my child — your judgement, your coldness — this stops now. Don't contact me ever again." She shakily stood up, marching toward the door. She took a final glance at her mother, childishly thinking that this was the moment her mother would apologize and beg to be a part of her and the baby's lives.

Liz looked uncomfortable, but her tone was devoid of emotion as she said, "If that's how you feel, it may be for the best, Caroline. I don't have time for your emotional outbursts."

Unbelievable. Caroline's gaze was unwavering, and she was proud of the strength in her voice as she told her mother, "You're a miserable person who deserves to be alone."

She didn't start crying again until she got back to her car.


Rebekah swept her into a fierce hug the moment she got home, shoving a hideous green smoothie at her, explaining, "You need to increase your intake of spinach, avocado and cucumber and with your busy schedule, this is the most expedient method."

Caroline rolled her eyes, taking an obligatory sip. "It's a testament to our friendship that I'm drinking this. Did those crazy helicopter parenting blogs you've been obsessing over tell you to make my smoothie with these slimy chunks? And don't even get me started on trying to guess why it smells like feet."

"Scoff all you like, but those are vital nutrients and I expect you to drink every bit of it," Rebekah said in an authoritative voice that brooked no arguments. She must've seen the slight tremble in Caroline's hands, because she quickly led her to the gray chaise in the living room. "Will you tell me about it?"

It was the combination of her friend's arm around her shoulders, enveloping her in a half-hug that felt so secure, plus her gentle question that triggered her next round of tears. Would she ever be done crying? Hiccups turned into coughing as Caroline tried in vain to steady her voice. "I'm a dweller. I dwell. I've played that damn conversation over and over and I'm just so angry at myself for not saying more — for not telling her off the way she deserved. She was a terrible mother and should have to hear every horrible thing I can think of, but I just couldn't do it. In that moment, it seemed more important to end our contact. I need to spare my child the pain that my mother would bring her."

Rebekah's green eyes were filled with sympathy. "Oh, Caroline. I'm so sorry. Can I ask what was said?"

She took another experimental sip of the goopy green smoothie, hoping the taste had improved. Nope. "My mother's never been the warmest of people, but she barely welcomed me in her house before she was ready to push me out the door. I acknowledged our broken relationship and told her I wanted us to start over. Then, I told her I was pregnant and she practically tripped over herself to tell me how I'd screwed up my life."

Rebekah's hold tightened, and her voice was indignant as she told her, "Bloody hell, don't believe a word that cunt says. You're going to have an extraordinary life and that baby is so fortunate to have you for a mother."

Caroline laughed weakly. "At least I won't be any worse at it than my mother. Of course, she set that bar pretty low. She actually told me that there was something wrong with me and that it was stupid to think having a baby would fix me." The strength came surging back in her voice as she embraced her indignation and anger. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not broken — she is. She said she refused to help me. But I never asked her to! I just thought she'd want to be a part of my life." She hugged her stomach protectively, sniffling as she muttered, "A part of our lives."

"My mother tried to break my siblings and I — she punished us for being what she'd turned us into. She hated her creations and said we were abominations. Spiteful witch," Rebekah scoffed, her anger unable to mask the hint of sadness that crossed her lovely face.

Caroline squeezed her hand, reassuring her, "I know you and your siblings had a difficult childhood and I can't imagine how terrible it must've been to fear your parents in that way. How did you finally escape from them? Were you able to make a clean break?"

"Nothing in our family history ever has been clean. It was more of a...banishment, I suppose. Now, neither our mother nor our father will come after us again."

"I'm glad you and your siblings are safe now," Caroline replied, giving her a tremulous smile. "And you guys make me feel safe. I used to be terrified of the future. But now I'm not. And it's all thanks to you."

Rebekah impatiently wiped away a stray tear, the comforting steel in her voice reassuring Caroline as she said, "You both will be safe with us."

Caroline had never learned how to be a part of a family, but she still had time to get it right.