Eating my Pizza I look at the calendar sitting on the counter trying to figure out my life for the next two months. Between swimming lessons and Dance and soccer, we're barely at home as it is. In the past three years, Christmas has even gotten complicated. Meredith moved Joey, Olivia, and Stella back down to San Francisco because she wanted to be closer to not only her family but Greg. Two weeks after his funeral she found out she was pregnant with baby number four. A little boy she named Gregory Fenton Buckingham Junior. Jeff and Christi still live in San Francisco, but Jeff often is in LA because he opened up another branch of the coffee plant. It's going under but he has hopes that if he finds a new location it'll do better. And around the time Greg Jr was born they also had a baby. They named her Brooke.

Sara's turning seventeen. I'm still living in Stevie's condo. It's not my week with the kids so when Sara comes busting through the front door I cock an eyebrow.

"You aren't supposed to be here," I say looking her up and down.

Over the years my daughter has evolved into a beautiful young woman. She has long brown wavy hair, she's started flat ironing it and she rarely wears it wavy anymore but when she does it's always a treat. Her brown eyes are still so identical to her mother's and we were so wrong about her height. She hit five foot two in a half. An inch and a half taller than her mother.

"Mom pissed me off and I never want to see her again." Sara hisses.

"Kind of impossible she's your mother, and she's fucking Stevie Nicks. Her name pops up in magazines and on TV quite a lot. If I remember correctly I passed the Rumours vinyl coming out of the record shop the other day. And you are her prized possession. Her only daughter." I say swigging my beer closing my empty pizza box. I eat out a lot when I don't have the kids.

"She forbade me from seeing Mike." Sara pouts.

"I don't like Mike either." I shrug.

"Yeah, but at least you didn't kick him out halfway through dinner." She growls, grabbing the discarded piece of crust on my plate and eating it.

"Yikes, what did he do to piss your mother off?" I question.

"He swore several times but you and mom swear all the time. He was kind of closed off but he pretty much did the same thing he did when you met him. He did make a comment about your separation and how it was odd that the two of you were still married but not even remotely romantically involved save for holidays, our birthdays, and your wedding anniversary what number are you at?" Sara asks.

"How old are you?" I question.

"Eighteen next month." She answers.

"Twenty," I answer.

"Long time." She mutters.

"What's really bothering you?" I ask as she twirls her car keys. Stevie and I got her a car for her sixteenth birthday.

"Part of me really wants you to move back in. Mom and I fight all the time and today was the last straw for me saying that I was too immature for a relationship and Mike wasn't the one for me, and I don't even know what love is. Daddy, I want to stay here with you permanently." She says coming around the counter and hugging me.

"Sweetgirl, you're going to have to take that up with your mother." I rub her back.

"Why? There's no paper saying I have to go to mom's every other week," Sara says.

"I know, but she loves seeing you. Like I said you're her only daughter. You two were so close when you were little." I sigh.

"That was before Klonopin and Fiona." She bites.

"Klonopin that's what she's taking? That's a benzo." I say

"Dad eight years. She's been taking them for eight years and you didn't know what they were?" Sara looks at me.

"She told me Anxiety pills." I shrug

***

Sara and I were watching a movie when the phone rang.

"Hello," I answer.

"Lindsey is Sara with you? She left five hours ago. I said something I shouldn't have and I regret everything I said." It's Stevie.

"Yes, she's here. Don't worry about her and she told me everything." I explain.

"Thank god. I was so worried about her. Please have her come home so I can apologize. Oh, also, I just got off the phone with Mick. President-Elect Clinton used Don't Stop as his campaign song. His people want the Rumours five to perform it. I'm in if you are." Stevie breathes out.

"Steph, I don't know. I haven't performed with Fleetwood Mac in ten years. Let alone did my own thing in four." I shake my head.

"Please, Lindsey. This is a once in a lifetime kind of thing." Stevie's pouting through the phone.

"You CAN go by yourself you know," I tell her. I can hear the sigh through the phone and after a brief pause, I continue. "Yeah okay. You can call Mick and tell him we're in. I'll see you in a couple of weeks for Christmas." I tell her.

"Okay...Lindsey, I love you."