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“She’s napping upstairs,” Brayden says. “She’s having a rough day.”

Shit. Poor Mom.

“Poor Nana,” Lilly says, her small face pulling into a frown. “She feels pukey.”

“Why didn’t she stay home?” I ask.

“You know Mom,” Shay says. “Doesn’t want to miss Sunday brunch, even if she can’t stomach the smell of it.”

I nod. I do know