“Sweetheart,” Raina said, jewelry indeed jingling, bringing forth welcome memories; growing vegetables in their garden, taking long walks on the beach to chase seagulls, and late night snuggles. Raina opened her arms and Brynn walked right into them, smiling when Olive wrapped her up from behind.

The three of them stood there for a long beat, wrapped up in each other. Catherine The Great Cat wandered in close, her appearance forewarned by the bell around her neck. She might be twelve and seemingly frail and delicate, but as with her moms, looks were deceiving because just beneath Cat’s skin lived a mountain lion. Hence the bell, because she hunted like one. No one blamed her instinctual drive to do this, though Raina greatly objected to Cat dropping “presents” at her feet in the form of cricket heads and various other pieces of dead insects.

Yep, Cat was the most adorable murderer who ever lived, and she rubbed her furry face against Brynn’s ankles exactly twice.

And then bit.

“Ouch!”

“You know her rules,” Olive said. “A little love, a little hate. It’s how she is. Now tell us why you’re home unannounced, looking like something not even Catherine would’ve dragged inside.”

“I think she looks wonderful,” Raina said.

“She hasn’t been sleeping or eating.” Olive’s worried eyes never left Brynn.

“I’ve been eating plenty!”

“Okay, then you aren’t sleeping enough or eating the right food. You’re as pale as . . . well me.”

Olive indeed had the pale skin of her English ancestry. In contrast, Raina was Puerto Rican, and an envious golden brown. Since Brynn had been conceived from Raina’s egg, not Olive’s, along with a sperm donor, her own skin was a few shades lighter than Raina’s. Unless she was trying to not hyperventilate, of course. Like now. In which case she probably was whiter than Olive.

“Okay, we can fix the eating right and sleeping, for a start,” Raina said with determination. She slipped her hand into Brynn’s, and as she’d been doing for as long as Brynn could remember, she took over. She settled Brynn onto the couch with one of her handmade throws, and in less than five minutes had a tray on Brynn’s lap with her famous vegan chickpea noodle soup and steaming ginger root tea.

“Truth serum?” Brynn asked, only half joking. Raina was magic in the kitchen—and at getting people to spill their guts.

“I don’t need truth serum.” Raina sat next to her. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I made peanut butter cups for dessert and you love peanut butter cups.”

“You’d withhold dessert from your only child?”

“She wouldn’t, she’s far too kind,” Olive said. “But I would. In a heartbeat.” She sat on the coffee table facing Brynn. “Talk.”

“How do you know I’ve got anything to talk about?”

“A mom knows.”