He grips my shoulders, meeting my eyes with playful intensity. "You should be excited." Heading for the door, he adds, "Oh, and heads up—five-thirty-five wake-up call."
"That's oddly specific," I smirk.
"We'll grab the bikes from the shed and hit the road," he says, his smile heavy with nostalgia. "Just like old times." He throws in a wink as he exits.
"Is that early really necessary?" I call after him.
"Nora, we have to seize the day!" His voice echoes down the hallway, arms raised dramatically. "Sunrise is at six. We've got a lot to catch up on this summer."
Something in my chest tightens. This place, these people—it physically hurts how much I've missed it all.
The aromaof Lydia's famous reunion dinner pulls me from what was supposed to be a quick nap but somehow stretched into a two-hour slumber. Checking my phone, I head downstairs to find Ollie and Jake sprawled across the couch, thumbs dancing across their screens while the moms transform the kitchen into something worthy of a cooking show.
"Well, if it isn't Sleeping Beauty," Ollie teases as I wander in.
I answer with an eye roll that says everything it needs to.
"Need a hand with anything?" I offer, stepping into the kitchen's controlled chaos.
"We're all set, sweetie." Lydia's words tumble out in one breath. "Did you sleep okay? Was the bed comfy? I bought new pillows—tell me if they're not good, we'll get new ones tomorrow."
"Perfect sleep. Perfect bed. Perfect pillows, Lydia."
"Okay, good." She finally breathes, shoulders relaxing. "But if you need anything??—"
"Lydia, the Hilton doesn't offer service like yours."
"Oh, hush." She playfully snaps a tea towel at Mom, who responds with a mock scowl. Their easy friendship warms something inside me—a reminder of how lucky Mom is to have someone like Lydia in her life. "I just want you all to feel at home. This place is as much yours as it is ours."
Jake appears beside me, draping an arm across my shoulders. "So, when's dinner ready, Queens?" He swipes a potato from the counter.
Lydia swats his hand. "Ow! Jesus, what's with the women in my life and slapping me today?"
I jab him in the ribs, earning that troublemaker grin that makes me stick out my tongue—childish but genuine.
"It'll be ready once you set the table, like I've asked three times already."
"Mom, I was entertaining our guests. His royal highness here is high maintenance," Jake protests.
"Me? That's rich coming from you," Ollie calls from his couch fortress.
"Well, can you season this salad?" Lydia asks, but Ollie intercepts, grabbing the bowl. "I've got it."
"The last time you 'got it', you nearly poisoned us all," Jake reminds him.
"One time! And the internet swore those were the best dumplings."
"You never learn to trust the internet."
"God, you boys."
We settle into our usual spots around the dining table, the empty chairs more noticeable than ever—one permanently vacant, its absence a physical ache in the room.
"Is Nate joining us?" Mom asks, placing the salad before me.
Jake, already shoveling food onto his plate, mumbles, "I wouldn't count on it."
Lydia taps her glass with a fork, ever the matriarch. "Before we eat, I just want to say something."
