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Nobody speaks.

“She wrote that if Mae and Addy were gone someday, I might start believing I was alone.”

My voice breaks.

“She said I needed to remember that being gone isn't the same as never having been loved.”

I wipe my face.

“She wrote the letters because she wanted me to remember how much she and Mae loved me.”

A sound comes from the hallway.

I turn.

Hayley stands in the doorway.

I don't know how long she's been there.

Her face is wet with tears.

Nobody moves.

I suddenly feel guilty.

I don't know why.

Maybe because I was talking about my mother and Aunt Addy in front of my mother.

Hayley seems to understand.

“Don't.”

I stare at her.

“Don't what?”

“Don't ever feel like you have to stop loving them because I'm here.”

My chest tightens.

“I wasn't⁠—”

“I know.”

She walks into the kitchen.

Slowly.

“Mae gave you everything I couldn't.”

Pain fills her face, but there is no anger.

“She gave you birthdays and Christmas mornings. She held you when you were sick. She taught you to bake.”

I nod.

“And Addy made sure you knew you were loved.”