As my mother bustled away to spread the news of her successful matchmaking dinner invitation, I found myselfstanding between my smirking brother and the man who’d rearranged my understanding of what sex could be like, trying to figure out how I was going to survive a family dinner without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
“This should be interesting,” Matt observed cheerfully. “Nothing like a family dinner to really test a relationship’s durability.”
“We don’t have a relationship,” I protested automatically.
“Sure you don’t,” Matt said, patting my shoulder with mock sympathy. “That’s why you both look like you’re about to have heart attacks at the thought of sharing a meal with people who’ve known you both forever.”
I glanced at Declan, who was indeed looking slightly pale, though that might have been from the cold rather than anxiety about navigating my family’s obvious romantic agenda. “It’ll be fine,” I said, more to convince myself than anyone else. “Just a normal family dinner with normal conversation about normal things.”
“Right,” Matt said with obvious skepticism. “Because our family is known for normal conversation about normal things.”
He had a point. The Winters family dinner table was where normal conversations went to die, usually replaced by enthusiastic interrogations, embarrassing childhood stories, and Mom’s increasingly creative attempts to gather personal information about our romantic lives.
Six hours later, I was standing in my bedroom, staring at my closet like it contained the secrets of the universe instead of just clothes, trying to figure out what to wear to a family dinner that felt more like a romantic interrogation than a casual meal.“It’s just dinner,” I told my reflection in the mirror that had witnessed countless teenage outfit crises. “Normal family dinner with normal family dynamics and definitely no romantic subtext whatsoever.”
My reflection looked skeptical, probably because I was wearing my pink polka dot skirt and a soft, black top that I’d chosen specifically because it made my waist look great and was cute as fuck. This outfit had been discarded in the past, but tonight it was going to shine. Not that I was trying to look good for Declan or anything. This was just... strategic confidence dressing.
The doorbell rang, and I heard my father’s voice greeting Declan with the kind of hearty enthusiasm usually reserved for visiting dignitaries or really successful Christmas light displays.
“Holly!” my mother called from downstairs. “Declan’s here!” I took a deep breath, checked my lipstick one more time, and headed downstairs to face whatever fresh humiliation my family had planned for the evening. I found Declan in our living room, looking unfairly handsome in a charcoal sweater and dark jeans, clutching a bottle of wine and engaging in what appeared to be a serious conversation with my father about snow removal techniques. He looked comfortable, relaxed even, like he belonged in our living room discussing municipal winter maintenance strategies.
“Holly,” he said when he saw me, and his smile was warm and genuine and made my pulse quicken in ways that were definitely not appropriate for family dinner situations.
“Hi,” I managed, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who’d spent twenty minutes choosing an outfit for a dinner I was pretending wasn’t a date.
“Declan brought wine,” Mom announced with obvious delight, like he’d just solved world hunger instead of making a perfectly normal dinner guest gesture. “How thoughtful!”
“It’s nothing special,” Declan said modestly, though I could see from the label that it was definitely something special. The kind of wine that cost more than my monthly cell phone bill and probably paired perfectly with whatever elaborate meal Mom had been preparing all afternoon.
“Nonsense,” Dad said, examining the bottle with obvious appreciation. “This is excellent. Very thoughtful indeed.”
Matt appeared from the kitchen carrying what looked like enough appetizers to feed a small army, his expression suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the awkward family theater unfolding in our living room. “Hope everyone’s hungry,” he announced cheerfully. “Mom’s been cooking like she’s expecting the entire festival committee to show up.”
“I just wanted to make sure we had enough,” Mom said defensively, though the spread she’d prepared could have fed half of Everdale Falls. “It’s not every day we have such distinguished company.”
Distinguished company?
As if Declan were visiting royalty instead of the boy who’d spent countless summer afternoons in our kitchen eating peanut butter sandwiches and arguing with Matt about baseball statistics.
“This looks amazing, Linda,” Declan said, surveying the dining room table that had been set with Mom’s good china and enough food to stock a small restaurant. “Thank you so much for including me.”
“Our pleasure,” Mom said, beaming at him like he’d just announced his intention to move to Everdale Falls permanently and make her daughter the happiest woman in Vermont. “It’s wonderful to have you back home. Both of you,” she added with a pointed look at yours truly.
As we settled around the dinner table, I tried to ignore the fact that my parents had arranged the seating so that Declanand I were directly across from each other, ensuring maximum eye contact potential and minimum ability to avoid each other’s presence and feet. I felt a game of footsie was on the cards.
“So, Declan,” Dad said, passing the roasted vegetables with the kind of casual tone that suggested he was about to launch into subtle interrogation mode, “how are you finding small-town life after all those years in New York?”
“Refreshing,” Declan said, accepting the vegetables and somehow managing to make the simple gesture look elegant. “There’s something to be said for knowing your neighbors and being part of a real community.”
“Very different from city living,” Mom observed, refilling his wine glass with obvious satisfaction. “Much more... personal.”
Personal. The way she said it made it clear she wasn’t just talking about community dynamics.
“It is,” Declan agreed, his eyes meeting mine across the table for a moment that made my stomach flip. “There’s a warmth here that you don’t find in bigger cities, isn’t that right, Holly?”
I nodded dumbly, like he’d included me just to be polite.
“Warmth is important,” Dad said sagely, like he was dispensing relationship wisdom instead of making small talk about geographic preferences. “Especially during the winter months.”
