It’s a loaded question, and had she asked me last night … the answer might’ve been different. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.” I give her a small smile and something in her seems to settle.

“Good,” she says, releasing me and turning up the music with a grin, both hands returning to the cookies on her lap.

Soon, I’m navigating us into my mom’s cozy subdivision. It’s close to my brother’s place, so he comes over once a week in the mild months to mow for her. It’s clear by the freshly cut lines in her tidy lawn that he’s been here recently. It never bothered me that he’s taken care of it before, but for some reason, today it does. I shove against the wave of guilt creeping up my esophagus. My mom understands. Of everyone, she’s always understood—always believed in me and my dreams and knew that sometimes dreams took you far away from home—and that sometimes families weren’t meant to be close.

I shake it off. Regardless, I’m here now.

My mom’s in the front yard getting set up when I park the truck along the curb. She circles around to the driver’s side, tugging me into her tight embrace before I can even manage to shut the door behind me.

When we were kids, my mom used to say she was trying to squeeze her love into us. Since my dad left, however, it’s as though she can’t squeeze tightly enough. Like she’s trying to infuse it into my marrow.

The guilt monster surges, reminding me of the years I basically stole her from him while she was with me in California. Seven years they’d sacrificed our family for me, assuming they had their entire futures ahead of them.

I hear the truck door close behind me and my mom pulls back, surprise on her face, her hands flapping wildly. “Shelby! Is that you? Come here, girl, I want to look at you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Riggs.” Shelby ducks a little to hug my mom. “It’s so good to see you.”

My mom takes Shelby’s face between her hands. “Mm, mm, mm, girl, you are as stunning as ever. I told you she’d grow up a beauty, Cam. Didn’t I tell you? Stunning. Come here. Come sit on the porch. Can I get you an iced tea? Coffee?”

Shelby shakes her head, settling on the top step next to my mom. She passes her the cookies. “I’m so sorry about Paul,” she says. “I didn’t know you guys split up.”

“Oh my goodness,” my mom says, exchanging watery looks with me. “Thank you. It was terrible for a while, but I’m getting along much better these days. You brought cookies?”

“Not only brought. She made them,” I say. “Fresh this morning. They’re delicious.”