Adrienne

If wringing my hands could solve anything, I would have singlehandedly ended world hunger and created peace and tranquility across the globe. Instead, I’m just as nervous as I have been since I booked this trip and no closer to the excitement my daughters would have me believing Ishouldfeel.

It’s so easy to them, with all their youthful fearlessness. But travelling alone is different for me. I’ve never evenlivedalone.

I’ve dined alone a time or two since Tom’s passing, but even sitting by myself in a crowded restaurant is stressful and foreign to me, the way it feels like everyone is watching, wondering… judging.

They’re probably not, I know, but logical or not, the thoughts remain. Intrusive and relentless.

But the girls don’t understand any of that. How could they? We raised them to be strong and independent, fearless and carefree. They’ve both seen more of this country than I ever have and Rachelle, my eldest, has already visited three continents outside our own.

It feels silly that I would be so unlike the women I’ve raised—but here we are. Similar in looks, spirit, and humor, but not in that fearlessness I envy in them both so much.

“You’re too old to be sex-trafficked,” Chloe says, breaking through my thoughts.

My mouth falls open and I whip my head around to look at her perched at the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry?”

“Imean,” she says, motioning toward my hands, my tell, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, I wasn’t.” I huff. “But thank you for the reminder that I’msoold.”

“I didn’t saysoold, I just saidtooold.”

I roll my eyes and look back at the suitcase splayed open on the bench at the end of the bed. “Have daughters, they said.” I shake my head. “Besides, it’s Tulum, honey, hardly a dangerous or unfriendly place.” Her eyes narrow as her attention drops again to my hands, so I let them flop to my sides. See? I’m fine.“I’m forgetting something.”

“You made a list.”

“A spreadsheet,” Rachelle clarifies as she steps into the room, holding up a sheet of paper. “Color-coded and everything, like the true control freak that you are.” She hands it over and I scan the items on the list, going slowly down from top to bottom and double-checking the contents of my luggage.

With a sigh, I set the list beside the suitcase. “It’s all there.”

“See?”

“But… what if I forgot to put something on the list?”

“Mom,” Chloe says, gripping my shoulders and turning me toward her. “It’s okay to be nervous. But you’re not flying to the moon. If you forget something, buy it.”

I sigh as I nod, but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something important. Of course, it could be that I’ve never travelled without Tom, or spent a Christmas without my babies. The thought wraps a hand around my heart and squeezes. “This is ridiculous. I can’t go.”

“Mama,” Rachelle says, “you’re going.”

“But leaving you both…” I flick my gaze back and forth between them. “On Christmas?”What kind of mother—

“I’m not even going to be in town.” Rachelle motions to her sister. “And Chloe’s going to the boy’s house.”

“Right. To spend the holidays withhisparents who wouldn’t dare leave their kids on Christmas.”

“Oh my god, you’re infuriating.” Chloe looks at her big sister and points between the two of them. “Arewelike this?”

“God no.” Rachelle winks when my mouth falls open. “You’re going. It’s nonrefundable, nonnegotiable, and I worked my ass off to plan it within that ridiculous budget you gave me.”

I smile in spite of my nerves. “Budgets aren’t ridiculous.”

“This one was,” Rachelle grumbles, but thankfully, she leaves it at that. We’ve argued about the life insurance Tom left me too many times to count. But then, even that stance suits my girls; they don’t—can’t—look at money the same way I do. For one, they’ve never gone without, so they can’t possibly fathom what life is like when the money runs out. Additionally, there really isn’t room for frugality in that whole ‘you only live once’ mindset that I love about their generation.

Chloe takes a deep breath as she steps in front of me again, catching my eyes. “You deserve this.” She looks over her shoulder at her sister, who nods, then meets my gaze once more. “We both think it’s time.”

That irritating vise around my heart squeezes again, but I nod.