Just like that, we fell into our usual dinner conversation—Uncle Drew talking about a client meeting, Aunt Elyse sharing bookstore anecdotes, me describing the new scone recipe Jenna was teaching me. Normal. Comfortable. Home.
As we ate, I found myself studying Aunt Elyse when she wasn't looking—the laugh lines around her eyes, the way she gestured with her fork when making a point, how she always seemed to notice when someone's water glass was empty. Little things. Mom things.
When she served another helping of pasta onto my empty plate, the word I'd been practicing rose to my lips without conscious thought.
"Thanks, Mom."
The moment the word left my mouth, time seemed to suspend. Aunt Elyse's fork paused halfway to her lips, her eyes widening slightly. Uncle Drew went very still beside her.
I felt my face flush hot. "I mean—sorry, I didn't?—"
"Holly," Aunt Elyse interrupted softly, setting down her fork. "You never have to apologize for that. Never."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but her smile was radiant.
"I just wasn't sure if you... if that was something you wanted," I stammered. "I should have asked first."
Uncle Drew cleared his throat, his own eyes suspiciously damp. "Some things don't need permission, kiddo. They just are."
"So it's... okay?" I asked, still uncertain.
"It's more than okay," Aunt Elyse—Mom—said. "It's... it's everything."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand, a gesture so simple yet so profound I felt my own eyes start to burn.
"Does this mean I get to be 'Dad' now?" Uncle Drew asked, his attempt at lightening the moment transparent but welcome. "Because I've been practicing my dad jokes."
"Oh god, please no more dad jokes," I groaned, but I was smiling too. "You're already unbearable."
"That's how you know I'm qualified for the position," he said with mock seriousness. "Professional-grade embarrassment."
We all laughed, the emotional tension breaking into something warm and comfortable.
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, but something had shifted subtly. A threshold crossed. A decision made, not just in my head but in my heart.
Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, there was a soft knock at my door. Aunt Elyse—Mom—stood there, hesitant in a way I rarely saw her.
"Can we talk for a minute?" she asked.
I nodded, sitting cross-legged on my bed. She joined me, perching on the edge like she was afraid of taking up too much space.
"I wanted to say something about earlier," she began. "About what you called me."
My stomach tightened. "If it was too weird?—"
"No," she interrupted gently. "Not weird at all. I just want you to know that whatever you call me—Elyse, Aunt Elyse, Mom, Supreme Ruler of the Universe—it doesn't change how I feel about you."
I smiled at the last one. "Supreme Ruler does have a nice ring to it."
She laughed, relaxing slightly. "My point is, I don't want you to feel any pressure. You get to decide what feels right for you, when it feels right. I'm honored by whatever name you choose."
I studied her face—so different from my mother's, yet somehow familiar in the ways that mattered most.
"I've been thinking about it for a while," I admitted. "Practicing, actually. But it felt weird to just... announce it."
Her eyes softened. "You were practicing?"
I nodded, embarrassed. "In the mirror. Like a total dork."
