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."

Lydia squeezes Mom's hand, her eyes bright. "I'm just so grateful you made it here this summer. This place feels more like home when you're all here."

"I second that, Mama Bear," Jake adds, throwing me a wink before nodding at Ollie. "That includes you too, shithead," he says with a playful jab.

Ollie responds by mock-headlocking him, planting a theatrical kiss on his temple. "Don't go soft on me now."

"We missed being here," Mom adds warmly, her gaze sweeping the table like she's memorizing each face.

"All right, enough sap. Can we eat? I'm dying here," Ollie declares.

"Wait," Lydia says, her eyes lighting up with sudden excitement. "I can't believe I almost forgot! We need to start planning for your birthdays!"