The Jacksons have brunch every Sunday morning at ten. If someone’s schedule doesn’t allow for it on any given week, so be it, but the time is always the same. The only exceptions are when Christmas falls on a Sunday, and every Easter, when we skip brunch and meet at the family cabin for a big dinner.

This Easter will be our biggest yet. Everyone will be here, including Easton and Abi. Even if I’m nervous about spending time around Easton with our tentative “just friends” arrangement, I’m glad he and Abi have somewhere to spend the holiday.

Jake is in the kitchen, working on the ham and a potato-and-sour-cream casserole. Nic is making half a dozen pies because that’s her way of showing us all how much she loves us. I’m hoping my stomach can handle some of this stuff. Not only is it delicious, but I suspect I’ve lost a few pounds, and I don’t want to sink back into the cycle of feeling victorious every time the scale shows a lower number.

“Do we drink red or white with ham?” Teagan asks, holding up both bottles. She’s in a pink spring dress today and looking as bright as the sunny day outside.

I position the last fork in place at the table and shrug. “I don’t think it matters.”

Still holding the wine, she presses the back of one hand to my forehead. “What is wrong with you? You’re supposed to say both.”

I laugh. Because she’s right. Typically, that would be my answer, but I’m not drinking tonight. Partly because Easton’s going to be here, and I’m afraid even the tiniest loosening of my inhibitions might land me in his bed, but mostly because my stomach is still screwed up and I don’t want wine ruining any chance I have of eating a halfway decent meal. I’m sick of not having an appetite and living on dry toast. Even coffee upsets my stomach these days. Sad times indeed. “I’m ready for my stress levels to go down so I can eat and drink like a normal person again.”

Teagan plops both bottles down on the table and props her hands on her hips. “Have you gone to the doctor yet?”

I look over her shoulder to my brother Jake in the kitchen and down the hall toward the girls in the living room to make sure no one heard her. “Would you lower your voice, please?”

She arches a brow.

“Not yet. I’ve been kind of busy, but I’ll call on Monday.”

“I’ve heard that before.”