I nodded and looked down at the food, taking in the steaming pork ramen bowl with one hard-boiled egg. My favorite.

“This looks delicious, Dad. Thank you.”

“Good. Make sure you clean your plate, a stór. I don’t like how thin you look. It’s only been a few months since I last saw you, and it looks like you lost weight.”

I shook my head. “You say this every time you see me.”

“Because it’s true.” He moved his hand and tapped my cheek affectionately. I didn’t care how old I got. I always craved these little affectionate gestures from him.

“I don’t recognize the car you drove in. Is it new?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s Olivia’s. I’m borrowing it while she hangs out with Max today.”

At the mention of Olivia’s name, Dad smiled. “Ah, how’s the little darling?”

I smiled. “She’s good.”

“She’s also married and has a life of her own. Don’t you think it would be better if you and Hunter move back home and stay with us while you try to get back on your feet?” Mom asked, speaking for the first time since she’d walked in the dining room.

I let out a sigh and turned toward Mom. “I’m happy where I am,” I said.

“But how long can you stay there before you wear out their hospitality?”

“You know Olivia isn’t like that. You’ve known her since she was twelve.”

“But I don’t know her husband well, and I doubt the man would like to have two extra people in his house.”

“Mom. Mason’s not like that either. Things are okay. And it’s not like I’m staying there for free.”

Which was kind of the truth. When I tried to give Olivia money for rent, she had shoved it back in my purse when I wasn’t looking. We settled on me helping with groceries, though I knew it was all for show. Not that I would tell my mom that.

“I still think it would be better to stay with your family.”

“Olivia and Mason are my family,” I said, my voice rising a bit.

Dad shot me a look in admonishment, a reminder to be respectful. I looked down, chastised.

“Your blood family,” Mom corrected. “I’m sure Hunter would love to spend some time with his Uncle Henry.”

Henry was turning fifteen this year and was already almost as tall as my dad. We had been close when I lived here, but the distance over the years had made it hard for us to keep up the relationship. It would be nice to try to build that again, but I knew I wouldn’t be trying to build that while living here.

“Acushla,” Dad said to Mom. Though he never raised his voice at her, the tone brooked no arguments. “It’s Lizzie’s decision and we should respect that.”

I looked down at my meal, taking the first bite, and thankful at least he was on my side today. Dad had played referee between Mom and me over the years. I was sure it was like riding a bike again.

“What about Hunter?” Mom asked. “I would love to see my grandson.”

I looked up and met her eyes. I would like to make her out to be the bad guy here and say she was using my son to control us, but that wasn’t the case. My parents both adored Hunter. They were disappointed I hadn’t brought him over with me. But he was at school and I didn’t want to pull him out when he’d just started, disrupting his schedule. Plus, I didn’t want him to see any potential fights I might have with my mom. So far, it was going better than I expected.

“Well, I’ll bring him over to visit often. And there will be nights when I need you to babysit him.” An idea came to me then. “Actually, Olivia wants to take me out for a girls’ night this Friday. It would be really great if you guys can take him for the night. Him and Emma.”

My parents shared a smile and I held back a grin. “Oh, that sounds nice. We can do a movie night. What does Emma like to watch?” Dad asked.

I laughed and shook my head. “She’s two. As long as you’re paying attention to her, she’ll be happy with anything.”

Mom nodded and I could see the excitement in her eyes. It brought me back to a time when I was little. We had been close when I was little. I used to hate the fact that I took after my dad so much and got nothing from her, save for my lips. I had been her little shadow for most of my life. Things got hard between us when I turned thirteen.

I guessed it was just hard for her to come to terms with the fact that I was my own person at that point, completely different from her. Not just in looks, but in my aspirations as well.

We finished our meal amicably, and though the conversation flowed, there was still a sadness weighing down in my heart for the things I couldn’t get back. I hoped I hadn’t shown it to them.

I knew I’d failed when they walked me to the door after lunch, their gaze settling heavily on me, so full of meaning and questions I didn’t know how to answer, I almost staggered back from it all.