Andie smirked. ‘Probably true. But Liz,’ she adopted a more somber tone than I was used to hearing from her, ‘you should be careful. I know I’m usually the one to throw caution to the wind but this time feels different. You could be spending time with a murderer. Your mom’s overprotective concern may be warranted in this case.’

I raised my eyebrows at this sudden change in roles we were now playing. But I knew she was right. ‘I know, I know. If anything concrete happens with the FBI investigation then I’ll tell them. No reason to worry them when nothing has happened since that meeting. I’m sure Cris will be cleared soon anyway since they asked for his DNA.’

‘Oh, that’s good, Lizzie. Maybe you should wait till they get that back before you visit again, so we can all have peace of mind.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I said, not ready to commit to that plan. I looked at the house and took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the interaction to come.

‘Now, are you ready?’ Andie popped her elbow out in my direction, hand on her hip.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ I replied, resigning myself.

I linked my arm through Andie’s and we walked the last few steps to the front door. I had barely pressed the doorbell when the door swung open, my mom standing there expectantly. It was strange how I had always thought I could see traces of my appearance in her face. Now it was clear that her eyes were a lighter shade of brown, the tip of her nose longer and more pronounced. I still wasn’t sure what my biological father’s heritage was but now that I knew I was at least half-Mexican, it made sense that my naturally bronzed skin had passed for Italian all these years. But looking at her now, we looked so different. The afternoon light illuminated my mom in the doorway, making it obvious that her skin was olive-toned, whereas I looked sun-kissed. This must be what an identity crisis feels like, I thought, my heart pounding in my chest.

‘Lizzie, I’m so glad you could make it this weekend. We’ve missed you so much.’ She pulled me into a big embrace, squeezing extra tight. ‘And Andie, it’s great to see you too.’

‘Hey, Mom,’ I said, pulling myself out of her grip.

Her face fell a little as I took a step back, not leaning into the hug like I normally would have. The smell of homemade pasta sauce, or gravy as Gram called it, wafted out and filled my nostrils, momentarily making me forget what a potentially awkward interaction I was about to have with my parents. My mouth watered at the thought of Gram’s fettuccine al pomodoro and my favorite carbonara.