"Thank you for coming," Riley said, and there was something soft in her voice that made Grant's chest tight. "I know family dinners can be a lot?—"
"Perfect," Grant interrupted. "It was perfect."
Riley's smile was brilliant even in the dim entryway light. "Even with Jake making you act out every Christmas movie ever made?"
"Especially that."
"And my dad's terrible turkey fire story?"
"Classic."
"And my mom reorganizing the table seventeen times?"
"Your mom is a perfectionist. I respect that."
Riley laughed, and the sound wrapped around Grant like warmth. "You're too good at this."
"At what?"
"Being part of the family. Fitting in. Making my nephew call you Uncle Grant after one dinner." Her voice went softer. "Making me wish you could stay."
Grant's hand found hers, their fingers tangling together in the space between them. "I don't want to leave either."
Thomas cleared his throat from where he'd been waiting patiently by the door. "I'll be in the truck."
"Dad, you don't have to?—"
"Yes, I do. Say your goodnights. Take your time." Thomas winked at Riley. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."
"Merry Christmas, Thomas."
And then they were alone in the entryway, the sounds of Riley's family cleaning up and laughing muffled behind closed doors.
Grant pulled Riley close, his hands settling on her hips, and she came willingly, her arms winding around his neck.
"I barely got to talk to you all night," she said.
"I know."
"Every time I turned around, someone needed something. Jake wanted you to play blocks. Mom wanted you to move chairs. Dad wanted to show you his workshop in the garage?—"
"I liked seeing the workshop."
"It's full of half-finished projects and power tools he doesn't know how to use."
"Still liked it." Grant's thumbs traced small circles on her hips. "Your family is wonderful, Riley."
"They're chaos."
"The best kind of chaos."
Riley was quiet for a moment, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "I forgot what this felt like."
"What?"
"Being home. Really home. Not just visiting, but—" She stopped, searching for the right words. "Belonging somewhere."
Grant's chest went tight. "You belong here."
