A/N: I'm almost completely sure Toby's house is a one bedroom, but let's pretend he has a spare because that makes things much easier.

BY THE WAY THIS IS BEING POSTED ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DAY I MET TOBY. TWO YEARS AGO. PLAYLIST LIVE 2013. MARCH 23rd.

Also: THANKS NICOLE you're the real MVP

"I think she hates me," I confessed to Lauren while she was putting some of Van's clothes into a dresser drawer. She stopped when I said that, a pink folded t-shirt in her hand, and looked up at me with an almost worried expression. "Like, I don't know, I thought we were kinda okay, but now I'm thinking she hates me."

Lauren smiled then, and put the pink shirt away, then looked back to me. "She doesn't hate you. If anything, she hates me right now for going away. She doesn't want to be here. But not because of you. But anyway, she'll end up liking this, I think. She talks about wanting to live here all the time, actually."

"LA?"

"Yeah. She loves LA. And once she's done being mad she'll really like it, I think," she said, tilting her head. She must have seen that I wasn't very convinced because she reached out and put a hand on my arm and repeated, "She doesn't hate you."

"What are we gonna do when you leave?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Eat dinner."

"What'll we eat?"

"I don't know. I don't know what you have. But stop worrying. It'll be okay," she said and bent down, picking up a few pairs of shorts from Van's suitcase, putting them in the second drawer with the other bottoms. "Are you still dating that girl?" She asked suddenly, randomly.

"What? What girl?"

"Weird name," she said, furrowing her brows trying to think of it.

"Olga?"

"Yes! Her!" She exclaimed, smiling big and pointing at me.

"Not really. What does that have to do with anything?" I answered in the only way I knew how. We were very on-again off-again, so I always just said 'not really', although, at the time, we were pretty much off.

"Well I don't know. I mean, our daughter is a teenage girl and all. It might help having another girl around. But no sleepovers! Do not have a girl spend the night here while Van's here," she ordered, looking very serious.

"What? Oh my God. I would never," I said, shocked.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at me. 'Sure you wouldn't'. I could practically hear her say it. Then she looked at the time on her phone. She said she'd need to leave around 5:30, and it was 5.

"Not too much sugar," she said, putting her phone back on the dresser, and getting the last of the clothes from the suitcase.

"What?"

"Don't let her have too much sugar," she clarified. "And when you take her to Starbuck's—and if I know you, you'll go every day—don't let her put extra sugar in the already-sweetened coffee. She always tries! She says it makes her feel good. She'll put about seven in there if you let her. Don't let her. And get her to drink water every now and then. But you have to get Dasani. She swears it tastes better than all the others. But even when you do get it, she won't drink it unless you make her. She likes Coke, but don't let her have too much of it."

I just stared at her because it already sounded pretty difficult. And I didn't think there would be so many instructions with a teenager. I thought they kind of just did what they wanted to.

"Don't worry," she said again.

I nodded. I went over to Van's bed, which I had gotten about a month ago. I picked up her purple and grey comforter and put it over her grey sheets. I had been in the middle of making the bed when I started talking to Lauren and getting sidetracked.

Then thirty minutes later Nicole left. She said her goodbyes, taking a while to do that. She told Van she loved her like ten times and Van kept saying it back, but sounded a little annoyed after the first few times.

When she walked out the door, Van and I both just watched the closed door for a minute in silence. Then we looked at each other. She reached up and pulled her hair out of the bun, ran her hands through the messy waves a few times. She looked at me again, crossed her arms.

"What now?" She asked. Her tone was harsh, but I swore she smiled at me.

I shrugged. "Do you like pizza?" I asked.

"That's actually the dumbest thing anyone has ever asked anyone," was her response.

"What kind?"

"Cheese."

"All right," I said. "You care which place?"

"Domino's so we can use the pizza tracker," she decided.

"Good idea."

We ate mostly in silence. We were both eating on the couch, but I was on my phone and she was watching Degrassi on my Amazon account (she seemed incredibly excited when she asked if I had prime and I said yes).

She broke the silence when we were eating our second slices by saying, "I don't see how you can eat that."

I'd ordered two pizzas, because I was lactose intolerant so mine couldn't have cheese on it. I always just put a ton of toppings on it to maybe make me forget there was no cheese.

"If I was lactose intolerant I would set myself on fire TBH," Van said seriously, but I had to laugh a little.

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Mac and cheese is probably one of my favorite things in the whole world. I couldn't not eat it. And cereal. You have to eat it with, what, soy milk? Gross. Can you eat butter?"

"In moderation," I answered. There was very little lactose in butter. My Mom always told me that, and it must have been true, because I always put it on my rolls.

"Chocolate?"

"Some kinds."

"That's honestly the worst thing ever. Could I have inherited that? I mean, obviously I didn't, but could I have? Hypothetically?" She asked.

"Probably," I replied with a shrug. I wasn't actually sure if it was something you inherited because no one else in my family that I knew of had it.

"I'm so glad I didn't. I inherited enough bad stuff from you as is."

"Like what?" I asked, leaning forward and looking at her then, because that caught my attention.

"Your hair. Your nose, I think. Eyesight. I'm left handed so I always smear the words on my paper," she listed, sitting her plate down, just the crust left, next to her and rubbing her elbow. "Oh, and, this is weird and I don't know if it's actually a genetic thing or whatever, but we both run out of breath super fast."

"I'm kinda offended," I said half-jokingly.

"No offense."

"You already offended me. It's too late for 'no offense'."

"I'm getting Gryphon," she told me, changing the subject.

She got up, picking up her plate. She went and threw it away first before going to slide open the door. Gryphon ran in and she leaned over and petted him. It was funny how much she looked like my daughter at that moment.