"Oh, you absolutely did. 'Grant said this,' 'Grant thinks that.' I told your mother you'd marry that boy someday."
"Mrs. Walsh," Riley managed weakly.
But her former teacher had already moved on, patting Grant's arm. "You take care of our girl, now. She's special."
"I know she is," Grant said, and the sincerity in his voice made Riley's chest tight.
Mrs. Walsh wandered off, and Riley turned to Grant. "I did not talk about you constantly."
"Apparently you did."
"I was eight."
"And already obsessed with me."
Riley swatted his chest. "You're impossible."
"You like it."
"Maybe I do."
The words came out softer than she'd intended, more honest. Grant's eyes darkened, and his hand tightened on her back.
"Riley! Grant!" Hannah appeared, slightly frazzled, with what looked like frosting in her hair. "Can one of you help me with the cookie table? The kids are staging a mutiny and I need backup."
"I've got it," Grant said. He pressed a kiss to Riley's temple. "Be right back."
Riley watched him go, weaving through the crowd toward the cookie chaos, and warmth settled in her chest.
This was what she'd been missing in the city. Not just Grant—though god, she'd missed him—but this. Community. People who'd known her since she was eight. A place where her third-grade teacher could embarrass her and it felt like home instead of intrusive.
"He's good for you."
Riley turned to find her mother standing beside her, holding a cup of spiked cider and looking far too knowing.
"Mom."
"What? I'm just saying. I haven't seen you this happy in years."
"It's only been a couple weeks."
"And yet." Carol smiled. "You know, your father and I knew within a week."
"Knew what?"
"That we were going to get married. Sometimes you just know." She squeezed Riley's hand. "I'm glad you came home for a nice, long break, sweetheart."
Riley's throat went tight. "Me too."
Carol kissed her cheek and drifted back toward where Riley's dad and Thomas were still deep in conversation, probably about farming or football or whatever dads talked about.
Riley grabbed a cup of cider—definitely spiked, based on the warmth that hit her throat—and made her way through the crowd. She stopped to admire Jenna's elf sweater, laughed at Mark and Ryan's ongoing shenanigans, and chatted with Emily about her job at the elementary school.
The whole time, she was aware of Grant across the room at the cookie table—helping Hannah wrangle the kids, making them laugh, being exactly the kind of person who showed up and helped without being asked.
God, she was in so much trouble.
By the time Grant made his way back to her, Riley had finished her cider and was feeling pleasantly warm and loose.
