He Gave My Reservation To His Parents—Unaware The Restaurant Was My Brother’s

was painted in brilliant oranges and purples, the kind of sky that makes you grateful to be alive.

My phone buzzed. A text from my dad: Dinner Sunday? Your mom is making lasagna. James is coming. Bring yourself and your appetite.

I smiled, typing back immediately: I’ll be there.

And I would be. Because these were my people. My family. The ones who’d always continue reading …