I stayed in bed late on Sunday morning. My sleep the night before had been fitful and scattered. My brain felt overworked, and my chest seemed to constrict with every breath.

I've kept practically everything I've felt to myself almost my whole life, ever since the scouts. But Judy had shown me what it was like—how terrible and how good it could be to talk with someone you trusted about how you felt.

My rotten luck was that the only person I trusted enough to talk with was the subject of all these complex emotions I didn't know how to address.

"I need another Judy," I murmured to myself. Peeling my arm away from my eyes, I checked the time. 10:23. I probably needed to get moving if I wanted to make it in time for lunch.

I could hardly open my mouth without yawning, and my eyelids felt heavy as I made my way through my morning routine. A cold shower had to cut it today—my "unit" in the complex wasn't an official one, and as a result shared a water heater with the landlord. I couldn't be bothered with one of my usual get-ups and instead threw on some jeans and a hoodie before heading out.

Much to my dismay, Bonnie was the one to answer the door when I arrived at Judy's apartment.

"Nick!" she cried, greeting me like her own kin. "So good you could make it. Are you feeling any better today?"

"A little," I said, rubbing my arm with a paw self-consciously. I followed the elder rabbit into Judy's living room.

"Judy had to run and get something for today, but she'll be back in a little bit."

My worst nightmare. I smiled wanly at Bonnie.

"No problem," I responded, gritting my teeth. Unsurprisingly, as soon as I'd settled onto the sofa, Bonnie took the armchair to my left, a cup of tea in hand.

"Nick, I don't think we should beat around the bush while Judy's out, so let me be frank." I could feel my heart racing, but I nodded anyway.

"Sure thing." She took a little sip of her tea before setting the mug down.

"You're in love with my daughter." She did not frame it as a question. "For the first little while yesterday, I thought it might be a simple crush, but I can see that it is not." I gripped the arm of the sofa tightly, sure that I was minutes away from cardiac arrest. Or actual arrest. Maybe Bonnie would call the station and have them carry me away for being a pervert.

"Yes, I think so," I finally replied, my voice weak.

Much to my surprise, she smiled broadly, tears forming in her eyes.

"Forgive me," she said, wiping at her face with a paw. "It's just—I don't know how much Judy has told you about us, but Stu and I were always so afraid for her. She was curious and headstrong and we were always worried that the world would eat her up and spit her back out. For Stu that was a literal worry.

"But when I was Judy's age," she continued, "I had wanted to go out and experience the world a little. I applied to Zootopia University and managed to get in, even. My own parents talked me out of it, though. And so I stayed in Bunnyburrow, and a few months later I met Stu." She took a deep breath.

"I have had a happy life, Nick. Don't get me wrong. And I really do love my husband. But part of me always wondered what I'd missed out on, and seeing Judy go out and—and take what she wanted, totally fearless...well, I see that what I mostly missed out on was meeting a lot of wonderful mammals." She took the cup of tea up again to steady her paws, but didn't drink. "Nick, I can see how much my daughter cares about you. I can see how much you care about her." She smiled tearfully again. "She's never had to settle before, and I hope she never will. I don't know if or when she'll recognize what she's feeling, but it brings me so much peace to know that you'll be there for her, no matter what."

I could not breath. I didn't dare. How can you even respond to something like that?

Fortunately, I was spared having to answer that question myself by the sound of the key in the door. Bonnie sprang to her feet, clearing her face of tears and bustling off to the kitchen to deal with her cup.

I sat with my back to the door, worried Judy would see the conflict on my face and try to pick at it until she uncovered the source. Oddly, though, Judy didn't greet me or Bonnie when she entered. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of me.

Judy froze as I turned around, halfway through the process of removing a light jacket. Accompanying her was a fox. A red fox. A vixen.

"Mom," I breathed. Judy gave me an awkward, lopsided smile.

"Surprise?" she said, holding both paws out like she was presenting me with a winning lottery ticket.

Mom couldn't meet my eyes. There was a bit more grey to her fur than when I'd last seen her, but otherwise she looked the same to me as she did when I was a kid. Deep tracks coursed through the fur on her face, making it evident that she was actively crying.

"I just felt so helpless when you told me about her, Nick," Judy said as the rest of us stood there like statues. "I didn't want you to be hurting anymore. And I didn't want your mom to be alone, especially on Mother's Day." The silence continued. "Oh, please don't be mad!" Judy cried.

I slowly got up off the sofa and made my way over to Mom. As I approached, she finally lifted her head.

"Nicholas," she said, half sobbing. "I am so sorry—"

My arms were around her before she could even finish her sentence, before I even knew what I was doing.

She wrapped me tightly in her arms as soon as I embraced her, and the two of us stupid, stubborn foxes sank to our knees.

"I missed you," I whispered into her ear, feeling hot tears trickle down my cheeks and catch on my whiskers. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry it took me so long to be the kind of mammal you raised." She pet my head as she struggled to control her own tears, chest heaving against mine.

"I wish I could take it back, Nicky, I really do. I never should have said what I did—"

I cut her off again.

"I made my bed, Mom, I had to lie in it at some point. I was—I was scum for twenty years; you would have been justified in saying a lot worse." She shook her head, bumping against my cheek as she did so. At this touch, she did something she hadn't done since I was child, and thoroughly marked my cheeks.

"That doesn't make it right," she replied once she had finished. I clutched her tighter.

"Happy Mother's Day," I whispered.

My eyes met Judy's, who had been watching our whole messy reunion from the kitchen with her own mother. The two of them were rubbing at their own eyes, and I shook my head and laughed.

"Oh, you bunnies," I said, my voice feeling watery. "So emotional." Judy beamed at me, and it would have taken a supreme idiot to miss the obvious adoration in my own gaze as I returned her smile.

…

Once all of us had settled down, Judy sequestered herself in the kitchen to get lunch finished up while Mom and Bonnie visited. Mom wouldn't let me leave her side at first, my arm locked in her grip. Eventually though, I managed to squirm out of her grasp.

"I should help Judy with lunch," I said. "It's Mother's Day, after all, I should contribute a little."

Judy was focused intently on a piling a baking sheet with diced vegetables, waiting for the broiler when I entered the kitchen.

"So," I said, startling her. "How long were you planning this?" She turned to face me, already twisting her paws together.

"Well, I went and found her the day after we talked," she said. "But I was planning on bringing her to your birthday until last night. You seemed really bothered yesterday, I figured it must be because it was Mother's Day." I almost laughed. Almost.

Reuniting with Mom had been enough to drive the conversation I'd been having with Bonnie out of my mind, but alone with Judy in the kitchen it came back full force.

"Judy, I—" I began, but cut myself off. I caught the most bizarre scent, one I never expected to smell in Judy's apartment.

"What are you cooking?" I asked. Judy's ears turned pink.

"Well, I know you've been really good going out to all those vegetarian places yesterday with my mom, and especially with your mom coming today, I wanted to have some food for you two." She opened the oven and gestured inside. "So I bought a chicken."

I laughed.

"Judy, you did not buy a chicken. That is a turkey. Oh my god, that is going to be way too much for us!"

The bird she had gotten was indeed massive. I can't remember ever having seen such a large turkey. It must have set her back a lot.

"It's not?!" Judy cried, pulling the rack from the oven with some difficulty. "It was with the chicken!" I laughed again, harder this time. "Hey, it's not like that's a part of the store I'm always visiting!" She stuck her lower lip out at me as I continued to laugh.

For what maybe seemed like the first time I can remember, I pulled Judy into a hug.

"You know I love you, right?" I said. I felt her chuckle.

"Do I know that?" she replied. I laughed again and squeezed her slightly.

"Thank you, Judy. I didn't think—I didn't think I'd ever see my mother again."

She pulled back enough for me to get a better look at her. She had such a bashful, yet completely pleased look on her face.

Suddenly her face felt so close to mine, and it took me a second to realize I had been the one to move closer. I swallowed hard.

Someone must have run off with my brain. Temporary insanity is all I can plead.

I leaned in and pressed a kiss to Judy's cheek.