I open the apartment door and silence washes over me. Too much silence actually. I kick off my work boots and check the time on my phone. f**k. It’s almost ten. I completely lost track of time.
I pad into the kitchen, and Parker has a pot of something waiting on the stovetop. I check under the steamy lid, and find taco meat, and there are soft tortillas warming in the oven. My stomach growls. The twins and I both love this dinner, and for some reason, I’m annoyed all over again.
I toss my cell onto the counter so I can check my emails while I eat and start to grab a plate from the boxes on the floor before I remember the boxes aren’t there anymore. The plates have been put away. It takes me a second or two to find them though. I open one cabinet door, and then a second.
Finally, I think
