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“I’m sorry.”

A flicker of pain appears on Connor’s face. “Don’t be. She’s not a part of this family.”

Ezra’s voice trembles with barely contained emotion. “She’s our mother. Our family.”

Connor scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Family? Please. She abandoned us, Ez. Left without a fucking word.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Boys, please.” George places a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s not do this here.”

But Ezra shrugs off his father’s touch, his gaze never leaving Connor’s face. “No, Dad. I’m sick of pretending like she never existed. Like we didn’t spend years wondering what we did wrong.”

My heart clenches at the raw pain in Ezra’s voice. I want to reach out, to offer some sort of comfort, but I remain frozen in place.

Connor’s jaw tightens. “We didn’t do anything wrong, Ez. She did. And I’m not going to waste another second thinking about her.”

“It’s easy for—”

“Enough.” George’s tone leaves no room for argument. He levels both his sons with a scowl that speaks volumes. “We have a guest. Let’s not ruin the evening with old wounds.”

The silence that follows is heavy and suffocating. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my fingers toying with the hem of my skirt. I catch Connor’s gaze, and the storm brewing in his eyes makes my breath catch.

“I need some air.” Ezra stalks out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

I flinch at the sound.

George sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I apologize, Mary. This isn’t how I wanted your first dinner with us to go.”

I force a smile, shaking my head. “It’s okay. Family can be complicated. I get that.”

“Mary, why don’t you come help me in the kitchen?” Margaret asks.

I glance back at Connor, who gives me a subtle nod. Right. I should give them some space.

Rising from the couch, I press a soft kiss on Connor’s cheek, his stubble tickling my lips.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” My hand lingers on his arm.

He covers my hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. A silent thank you. A promise that we’ll talk later.

I follow Margaret into the kitchen, the scent of roasted garlic and herbs enveloping me like a warm hug.

“Let’s pack up some food for you,” she insists, busying herself with Tupperware and foil. “Nothing goes to waste here, and it’s always better shared.”

“Thank you. Can I help with anything?”

Margaret glances over her shoulder, a kind smile on her face. “Of course, dear. Can you get some plastic containers out from the cupboard to your right, please?”

I nod and turn, taking out some boxes.

The pain in Ezra’s voice, the anger in Connor’s. It’s a lot to process.

Although I’m not the biggest fan of my own mother, with her expectations and demands, her constant reminders that I’m not and never will be enough, at least she’s still here, even if her presence feels more like a burden than a blessing. I know she means good and loves me.

I place the containers on the kitchen counter next to the plates of food.

“Seeing Connor like this…” She pauses. “Happy. It’s been a long time. And it’s because of you.”

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