Zoey bumped Hazel’s shoulder with hers, trying to lighten the moment. “You don’t have to worry about that.” No way would she bring another person into the mix. At the same time, she felt a pinch of regret, thinking of sleeping in an empty bed night after night. For a really long time. “So what are you wearing to the wedding?”

“Genna’s going to take me shopping in Syracuse and let me pick out a dress.” Enthusiasm bled into Hazel’s voice.

“That sounds dangerous...for Genna, I mean.” Zoey ruffed her fingers through Hazel’s hair playfully. “Has she seen your Insta account? Does she know how expensive your tastes are?”

“She has, and she does, so there.” Hazel pushed Zoey’s hand away with a grin before growing serious again. “Don’t be mad, but she’s into fashion and stuff.”

It was no secret that Zoey was mystified by whatever people thought “fashion” was from one week to the next. Meanwhile, Hazel kept up with every new trend in clothing, hair and makeup. She not only followed dozens of so-called social media influencers, she also had her own accounts. Zoey monitored it all carefully to be sure her daughter’s posts were age appropriate. Any creepy dudes who tried to follow her were promptly blocked. Even after viewing all those videos and reels and lives and whatever they were called, Zoey didn’t get it.

Clothing was a practical necessity in her life, but nothing more. She didn’t want to look like a slob or anything, but as long as her clothes were clean and hole-free, she was happy. Her trademark jeans and T-shirts were her own unique fashion statement. Hazel said more than once that sort of trademark only worked with a style that was cutting edge and unique, but Zoey had shrugged her off. From the time she was a teenager, she’d heard other people’s opinions—and laughter—about her clothes and hair and house. She was very good at ignoring them.

But now Hazel was going to have a stepmother who loved pop culture and style as much as Hazel did. Zoey felt a flutter of insecurity in her chest. Sure, she’d been good at ignoring opinions...or at least appearing to. But those barbs had still wiggled their way into her self-esteem, both as a young girl and all these years later.

“Mom? It’s okay that you’re not into it. You know that, right?” Hazel leaned forward. “I just meant Genna likes it like I do. That doesn’t reflect on you...”