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She shook her head, laughing at herself because to her, after stopping the loops and redirecting her OCD… it felt ridiculous that she still struggled this much.

Diana’s voice was soft and weighted with a gentleness. She reached forward, brushing a crusty strand of hair away from Ali’s temple and tucked it behind her ear. “We can’t control any of those things. But you don’t need to worry about being alone. You have a village. One that adores you on your good and bad days.”

Ali’s eyes darted to her lap and then back up. “I feel like I’ve been having a lot of bad days recently.”

“Why is that?”

“I try to keep my stress level down to help me manage my tics and things. But with the wedding, work, and my show coming up, there’s too much to do and not enough time.” Ali sighed, scrubbing her face with her hands. “I’ve been meaning to make an appointment with my therapist, but it’s stuck at the bottom of my to-do list.”

Diana patted her knee, giving it a little squeeze. “Why don’t we go ahead and do that now?”

Ali almost laughed. It had been such a long time since there had been a maternal figure in her life. Diana was a mom to her core. But she didn’t try to force her way in. Ali knew if she was anyone else, Diana would be right where she was now.

“You’re right,” Ali agreed, leaning forward and grabbing her laptop off the coffee table.

Diana rummaged through her pantry and refrigerator, muttering to herself about the lack of ingredients. Ali made a recurring weekly appointment, cursing past Ali for not preemptively doing so to make her life easier.

Diana Carter-Davenport drove like a bat out of hell, one hand on the steering wheel, the other wrapped loosely around her to-go cup of iced tea with lemon. Occasionally, she didn’t use either hand, instead using only a knee to keep the car from running off the road.

Ali had to hand it to her, for all the death-defying maneuvers that belonged in a movie, no one was hurt.

“Do you mind if we stop by the grocery store, Sugar?” Diana asked, smirk deepening as she clocked Ali’s white-knuckle grip on the oh-shit handle.

“No, whatever you need,” Ali managed.

Tires screeched against asphalt as the vehicle whipped around, onto a new street. Her phone started vibrating, screen lighting up with a FaceTime call from Charlotte.

“Hey,” she rasped, voice thin as she answered the call.

She brushed her still damp hair over her shoulder, glancing down at the screen right before her body swung, knocking against the door thanks to another sharp turn. A dark pixelated brow arched, creeping toward her hairline.

“Are you alright?”

“Did you know—” Ali’s hand leapt to the oh shit handle again, eyes back on the road as Diana wove in and out of traffic. “Do you think your mom was a race car driver in another life?”

Lizzie cackled off screen, the sound of it making Ali’s mouth twitch even as she feared for her life.

Charlotte bit her lip, stifling her own laugh as the car zipped into the parking lot. “Her speed demon ways are legendary,” she admitted. “But her driving record is good. So don’t panic, your odds of getting to your destination in one piece are high.”

Ali nodded, right before the car screeched to a stop and the phone flew out of Ali’s hand. She left it behind, fumbling with the door handle instead as she dove out of the car, crying out as her feet touched the ground. “Land!”

“Y’all exaggerate,” Diana drawled, plucking Ali’s phone off the ground and tossing it to her. Ali’s hands moved faster than expected, catching the device. “We always arrive in one piece.”

Ali held the phone close to her face. “You wouldn’t do me like this, right?”

“Never, darling,” Charlotte vowed.

“Not unless she’s in the Porsche!” Lizzie called.

“Your mother is insane,” Ali whispered in desperation as Diana squeezed herself into the frame until their cheeks pressed together.

“Only a little,” Diana chimed, waving at the screen. “Come along, Sugar. I’m teaching you how to make gumbo.”

Ali’s smile stretched a mile wide, her near-death experience entirely forgotten. Ali could cook. But ever since she lost her mom’s recipes, she rarely felt the urge. The idea of helping Diana in the kitchen and learning something new was appealing, warming some cold drafty part of her.

“I’m glad you are taking a break,” Charlotte said, her smile looking unbearably fond. “I didn’t know you and my mother had plans.”

“We didn’t technically. But I’m glad she came by,” she admitted, trailing after Diana into the grocery store. “We’ve been having so much fun.”