“True,” he says, bumping his shoulder lightly into mine. “Friends,it is.”
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
MILES
Miranda studies the spread of food arranged in warmers along the counter, worry tightening her features. “Do you think everything’s okay? We ordered enough food, right?”
We’d picked up a few catering trays from our favorite local Italian restaurant—nothing fancy, but definitely delicious.
“Of course, everything’s okay,” I reassure her. “Believe me, my parents do not care. My mom would be perfectly happy with cheap bread and cheese sandwiches. They’re the most low-maintenance people on the planet. She even offered to bring food herself, but I insisted we were hosting. Honestly, most times when they visit, they show up with half their fridge.”
“I know,” Miranda says, still fussing. “But it’s the first time they’re coming here since I moved in, and I don’t know… I just want everything to be great.”
She’s nervous—more than she wants to admit.
“Believe me,” I say, stepping close enough that she meets my eyes, “they’re going to love you. They love everyone. Plus”—I wink—“you’re very easy to love.”
She exhales, though the worry doesn’t entirely leave her posture. “Okay, well… still. I like things done well.”
“And I love that about you,” I tell her. “But trust me. It’s all good.”
As if perfectly timed to test my promise, the doorbell rings, followed immediately by the front door swinging open.
“Hellooo?” my mom calls out in her usual cheerful, singsong voice.
“Come in!” I shout from the kitchen, heading toward the foyer.
My family visits fairly often. We live close enough that popping over is easy, but this is the first time they’ve been here since Miranda moved in. I’m not even a little nervous. I know exactly how this will go.
My mom and dad pull me into matching hugs, squeezing tight, and then Audrey—my little sister—wraps her arms around me too.
“Hey, guys,” I greet them, grinning. I glance over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “This is my new roommate, Miranda.”
“Oh, Miranda!” my mom beams, immediately crossing the room to hug her as if they’ve known each other for years. “We have heard so many wonderful things about you.”
“Oh—well, that’s good to hear,” Miranda says, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink.
Everyone filters inside, and true to form, we start talking all at once. My family doesn’t do quiet. We head to the kitchen, grab plates, and start piling on pasta, salad, and warm bread.
“Everything looks amazing,” Audrey says. “Oh my gosh, I love Italian.”
“Us too,” I say, gesturing between Miranda and me. “Actually, we love just about everything.”
I shoot Miranda a grin, and she nods. “Yep. Eating? We’ve mastered that part. Cooking? Not so much.”
My mom laughs and pats Miranda’s arm. “Well, I can come over any time and show you two a few things.”
“We might take you up on that,” Miranda says. “Because between the two of us, if takeout didn’t exist, we’d probably starve.”
Plates are full, and everyone settles at the table. Conversation flows easily—about the game, how the season’s going, a couple of recent plays my dad wants to discuss. Audrey updates us on her classes and dorm shenanigans. Mom fusses about the process of finding a reputable breeder. After we lost my childhood dog, a golden retriever named Molly, I’m finally ready to get another one.
Everything runs smoothly. Better than smoothly.
And as I sit there watching my family talk to the woman who has become such an important part of my life, something settles warm and sure in my chest.
Seeing my worlds meet like this… it just feels right.
