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“You didn’t stop by just to say hello,” Anita said, not unkindly.

“No,” Emily admitted.

Her mother waited patiently, which wasn’t always Anita Whitaker’s strong suit.

“Is this about Cole?” she guessed, her patience officially up.

Emily bobbed her head. “More or less.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Anita said.

“You do?”

“Of course. What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Zach isn’t going to think it’s wonderful.” Emily rolled her eyes. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

Anita waved Emily’s comment away. “Don’t worry about your brother. Let me ask you something: Are you happy?”

Emily looked at her cup and then up, meeting her mother’s eyes. “I think so. Yeah, I am. But there’s this part of me that keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. That keeps thinking—this is too good, it’s going to go wrong, something’s going to—” She stopped. “I don’t know how to trust it.”

Anita’s expression softened.

“Oh, honey.”

Emily hated that her eyes burned at those two words.

Anita set her tea on the coffee table and shifted closer, not all the way, just enough that Emily knew she could lean in if she wanted to.

“I know,” Anita said quietly. “I know exactly why you feel that way.”

Emily’s fingers tightened around her cup.

“And I understand why,” Anita continued. “I do. When your father left, he didn’t just walk out the door. He took your sense of safety with him. He made you believe love was something that could disappear without warning. And that was not fair to you.”

Emily blinked hard.

“But Cole isn’t your father.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Anita asked softly.

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Anita gave her a small, sad smile. “Knowing it in your head and believing it in your bones are two very different things.”

The Christmas tree lights blurred at the edges of Emily’s vision.

“I don’t know how to do that,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to do it all at once.” Anita reached over and covered Emily’s hand with hers. “Trust isn’t a door you throw open because someone asks nicely. It’s a window you crack an inch at a time. You watch what they do. Not what they promise. Not what you’re afraid they’ll become. What they actually do.”

Emily stared at their joined hands.

“And what has Cole done?” Anita asked.

Emily let out a breath that shook more than she wanted it to. “He shows up.”