Dinner was delicious and chaotic in equal measure. Dishes were passed with military precision under Carol's watchful eye. Riley's dad told a long story about the year the Christmas turkey caught fire. Tyler's girlfriend Sophie slowly relaxed as she realized the family chaos was affectionate rather than hostile.
Grant found himself answering questions about the farm, about his plans for next year's crops, about whether he'd consider adding goats to their livestock rotation.
"Goats are a terrible idea," Tyler said. "They'll eat everything."
"That's the point," Grant countered. "Natural brush control."
"They'll eat your barn."
"Not if you manage them properly."
Riley squeezed Grant's hand under the table, and when he glanced at her, she was trying not to laugh.
The conversation flowed from farming to football to whether Tyler's band was ever going to make it big.
"We're playing a gig in Brooklyn next month," Tyler said defensively.
"At a coffee shop," Lily added from down the table.
"It's a venue."
"It's a Starbucks."
"It's an independent coffee shop that happens to also be a music venue."
Carol cut in before it could devolve into an argument. "Tyler, that's wonderful. We're very proud of you."
"Thank you, Mom."
"Even if it is a Starbucks," Jason muttered, earning himself a kick under the table from his wife.
Grant caught Riley's eye again, and this time they both had to look away to keep from laughing outright.
This. This was what family was supposed to be. Not perfect, not quiet, but full of love and history and the kind of teasing that only came from people who knew each other inside and out.
After the main course, Carol brought out dessert—three different pies, a tray of cookies, and what she called her "famous trifle" that looked almost too pretty to eat.
"Mom, you made too much food," Riley protested.
"There's no such thing as too much food on Christmas Eve."
"We're going to be eating leftovers for a week."
"Good. Then you'll think of me." Carol kissed the top of Riley's head as she passed, and Grant saw something soft cross Riley's face.
She'd missed this. He could see it in the way she watched her mother move around the table, in the way she laughed at her dad's terrible jokes, in the way she let her niece climb into her lap while they ate pie.
Riley had built a life in the city, but this—this was home.
Grant wanted to be part of that home. Wanted it with a fierceness that surprised him.
After dinner, they moved to the living room for what Carol called "the traditional Monroe Christmas Eve spectacular,"which apparently meant a mixture of board games, carol singing, and increasingly competitive charades.
The living room had been rearranged to accommodate everyone. The kids sprawled on the floor with their one present they were allowed to open before the big day. The adults claimed the couches and chairs, and somehow Grant ended up wedged between Riley and her nephew Jake on the loveseat.
"First up:Pictionary!" Carol announced, producing a worn game box that looked older than Grant.
The teams were divided with great ceremony and much arguing. Grant ended up on a team with Riley, Jake, and Sophie, who looked relieved to be paired with people who seemed relatively normal.
