"Where else would I be?"
"How can I help?" he asked.
Riley's shoulders sagged with relief. "You're a saint. Can you help Mom with the table? She's reorganizing the place settings for the third time and I think she's about to have a breakdown."
"On it."
"And Grant?" Riley's voice dropped lower, meant just for him. "Thank you. For being here. For—" She gestured vaguely at the chaos. "All of this."
"Wouldn't miss it," Grant said, and meant it. He pulled her in for a quick kiss on the cheek and watched her face flush. “More later,” he murmured in her ear before separating from her and moving to help Carol.
The next hour passed in a blur of activity that felt surprisingly natural. Grant helped Carol adjust the table—twice more, because she kept changing her mind about the seating arrangement.
"No, no, Grant needs to sit next to Riley, not across from her," Carol muttered, moving place cards around like chess pieces. "And Thomas should be next to me so I can make sure he gets enough to eat. That man is too thin."
"Mom, Thomas is fine?—"
"He's been living on bachelor food since Martha died. Someone needs to make sure he eats vegetables." Carol moved another place card. "There. Perfect."
Grant bit back a smile. The table looked exactly the same as it had the first time.
"Mrs. Monroe?—"
"Carol, please."
"Carol, can I help with anything else?"
She turned to look at him, and something soft crossed her face. "You're a good man, Grant Lawson. You know that?"
Grant felt his face heat. "I'm just?—"
"You're good for her." Carol's voice dropped lower, meant just for him. "I can see it. The way she looks at you. The way she smiles when you're in the room." She reached up and patted his cheek. "Don't let her run away this time."
"I won't," Grant said, and meant it with everything in him.
"Good." Carol smiled. "Now go rescue Tyler's poor girlfriend from your father. I think Thomas is telling her about crop rotation and she looks like she might cry pretending to participate."
Grant rescued Sophie—who was indeed looking slightly glazed—and guided her toward the safer territory of Riley and Lily in the kitchen.
He found Riley at the sink, washing serving dishes while Lily dried, both of them laughing about something.
"—and then Dad tried to deep fry the turkey in the garage," Lily was saying. "In the garage. Where we park cars."
"I still can't believe Mom let him."
"She didn't know until she smelled smoke."
Riley caught sight of Grant in the doorway and her whole face lit up. "Hey. You survived the table reorganization?"
"Barely. Your mom has very specific ideas about seating arrangements."
"She always does." Riley dried her hands on a towel. "Lily, you remember Grant. Grant, my sister Lily."
"Yes, we met earlier," Lily said, "but formal introductions are nice. So, you're the one making my sister smile like that."
"Like what?" Riley asked.
"Like you're sixteen again and sneaking out to meet him after curfew."
