The plane touched down in Los Angeles in the late afternoon the next day. Charles' assistant had booked the flight for me - at his insistence - and purchased one first class ticket.

I had urged that it was too much but Charles had insisted. "Given your status," he'd said when I first brought it to him. "You know flying economy is not an option."

My grey suitcase was one of the first to arrive on the baggage carousel and I heaved it onto the ground in one motion. It was strange, given my job, that I was travelling so lightly but I didn't actually have that many personal items.

Anything I'd left in London was being sent over. Everything in my one suitcase was all I needed. I'd had my days of travelling with heavy baggage. This was not one of those times.

My black jeans and plain white hoodie allowed me to blend into the crowd better but members of security still helped usher me to the exit when one too many people started to notice my presence in the airport. A pair of sunglasses only went so far.

Outside, my dad was waiting by a gleaming black Range Rover. He stood with a firm stance by the car, a dark pair of Aviators shielding his eyes from view and a leather jacket that warded off unwelcome greetings.

The way he was currently dressed, my dad was the epitome of what a luxurious life could bring you. Power and success, but still enough nonchalance to look intimidating while picking your kid up at the airport. I wanted to laugh. After all these years, he still had it.

My dad and I were not the same people. Our hobbies differed and he had more in common with Aria than he did me, but at the end of the day he was still my father and I was still his son. I looked more like him than my mother and standing opposite one another, matching sunglasses and facial expressions, we must have looked like the perfect father-son duo.

No one approached my father as he waited for me but people soon began to catch on when they noticed me heading in his direction. The stares began to increase as I stopped short in front of him. A few camera flashes went off as people started whispering but it was nothing I wasn't used to.

"Dad." I said.

"Troye." he nodded in reply. The facade only held a moment longer until suddenly a grin broke out on my father's face and he pulled me to him, embracing me tightly.

"You damn idiot." he said, but I clung to him like life support. I knew what he meant.

We pulled back. "Where's Mom?" I asked.

"She's at home. She wanted to give you a surprise welcome home party and-shit-oh well, act surprised when we get there."

I laughed out loud this time. "It's good to be home."

He ruffled my hair. "Now get in the car. We're in the yellow zone and I don't need a fine. Plus your mother will kill me if we're any later than we have to be."

Chuckling to myself, I proceeded to climb into the passenger seat as Dad heaved my suitcase into the back and hopped into the drivers seat. Even if he did get fined, I knew how little a dent it would put in my Dad's accounts. There was also a good chance that if we were pulled over the officer wouldn't charge him anyway. People knew Scott Evans. It was a blessing and a curse.

The ride back to my parents' house was filled with easy conversation. Dad asked me questions about the job, what it was like living in London and what I planned to do with my return. He steered clear of any romance questions, for which I was thankful.

I tried to act surprised when we stepped through the doorway but I was a terrible liar and Mom saw right through me. Smacking one of the balloons as she passed, she stood in the entryway with her hands on her hips, glaring at her husband. "You told him, didn't you?"

"I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know was coming," Dad defended. "Look at this place. Honey, your efforts are unfortunately predictable."

Mom turned to me. "Do you think I'm predictable?"

I gave her a sheepish look. "Well, you do like to celebrate a lot of things."

"I do not!"

"You threw me a Welcome Home party when I had mouth surgery."

"It was a big deal!"

"It was my third time!"

I laughed as Mom threw her hands up. She stormed over to me and just before she started yelling, her face softened and she pulled me into a hug. Her arms wrapped around my waist as she leaned her head against my chest and whispered, "My baby. You're home."

"Yeah Mom," I said, a tad softly. "I'm home."

She pulled back and smacked me on the arm and I yelped. "What was that for?"

"Don't you ever leave us for that long again," she scolded. "Do you understand, young man? I can't be worrying about you from the other side of the ocean. You're giving me grey hairs too early!"

"I wouldn't say early," Dad said, and also yelped when Mom smacked him too. "Geez woman, I was just kidding!"

"You two are despicable." Mom said, shaking her head.

Dad laughed and stepped forward, pulling his wife into his arms and whispering sweet words in her ear about how beautiful she was, even if she gave him bruises all the time. Eventually her face softened and she looked up at her husband with the same expression she always did. Love. Pure and utter love.

I smiled as I watched them. My parents had married just before I was born but I knew they'd been looking at each other that way long before. Their love story wasn't a fairytale but the way they looked at each after all these years still with so much love and respect and appreciation was something that not everyone was lucky enough to find in their lifetime.

I remembered Dad bringing my mother home flowers for no reason other than because he could. Mom making her husband coffee when he was working late, and was gifted with a kiss on the cheek each time. I remembered them curled up together on the love seat during holiday season, watching festive movies as they huddled under one blanket. The way my father came home each night and kissed my mother on the cheek as I did my homework at the kitchen table. How they still stared across the room at each other, happy knowing the other was simply there because that's all they'd ever wanted.

They were the goal. They were the endgame. A love like what my parents had for one another was one of a kind.

I remembered a time when I'd once wanted the same love. For someone to look at me the way my parents looked at one another. I no longer wanted the same things I did when I was a child, but I could appreciate those that did.

Our banter was cut off with the arrival of a fourth person in the room. Leaning in the doorway, looking every bit the bourgeois dream she was raised on rather than the millions she was worth, Aria Evans mused, "Well look what the cat finally dragged in."

"Aria!" I grinned as I bounded over to my sister, pulling her into a bear hug. "It's good to see you, sis."

Aria met my affections with just as much enthusiasm. Arms wrapping around my neck, she hugged me tightly. It had only been three months since we last saw one another but for the Evans family, that measured out in years.

"It's good to have you home, bro." my sister said. "Now maybe Mom and Dad can stop pretending not to cry every time your name is brought up."

"Hey!" Dad cried. "I do not cry. I man-weep."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"I don't need to listen to this." Dad started to walk toward the kitchen, stopping when he reached us and said, "We made dinner for the family tonight. It's been way too long since we had a Family Night and we're past due."

I nodded. "Sounds good."

Our parents disappeared into the kitchen and Aria turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "Something you want to explain?"

My brow furrowed. "Like what?"

Aria brought her phone up before my face. Displayed on the small screen was a digital copy of Vanity Fair's issue on me with my latest interview. "Oh."

"Oh he says," Aria mocked. "Like he didn't just completely bullshit his way through an interview with Vanity Fair."

"Shh, not so loud." I shushed her, glancing cautiously towards the door our parents had left through before looking back to her. "What makes you think I was lying?"

Aria turned the phone towards her and read off it. "'I'm just taking some time for me right now. The right person will come along eventually and will see me for who I am and love me with all they are.' It's garbage, Troye. You may be a romantic but even you haven't spoken with such cliches since you were eleven."

"What makes you think I've changed?"

She gave me a look. "The last time you put the words 'who I am' and 'love me' in the same sentence, you were trying to convince Mom that you were destined to be Spiderman."

"In all fairness, that could have checked out."

"Yes, if you hadn't grown out of the spandex fifteen years ago and, oh, I don't know, actually had super powers!"

"Hey! Being bitten by a radioactive spider could have happened to anyone."

"Troye," Aria pinched the bridge of her nose. "What's really going on? When we called you to ask you said it wasn't a conversation to have over the phone."

"Because it wasn't."

"And now?"

"Oh, I think I hear Mom calling us for dinner. No? Just the wind? Well, better go check there's no tornado warning. Safety first!"

I ran out of the room and into the kitchen. Mom sent me a suspicious look as I skidded to a stop. "Troye."

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Peachy." I flashed her a thumbs-up. "Is dinner ready? I'm starving."

"I wasn't sure what your meal requirements are these days but I made lasagne because it's your favorite." Mom said. "Can you set the table?"

"Sure," I nodded. "Lasagne sounds great."

Setting out the silverware, I carried the tray of lasagne to the table as Aria entered the room. She flashed me a look as we sat down and I gulped nervously. All I had to do was keep the conversation moving and I might be able to survive this dinner.