"I told you I would be."
He walked her to her car, hands shoved in his pockets, neither of them speaking.
At her door, Riley turned. "Sunday dinner. You're really coming?"
"I said I would."
"It's going to be chaos."
"I can handle chaos."
"Tyler's going to grill you about your intentions."
"I have very honorable intentions."
Riley smiled despite herself. "Do you?"
"The most honorable."
They stood there, snowflakes starting to fall around them, the moment stretching too long.
"Grant?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For doing this. For being—" She stopped, not sure how to finish.
"For being what?"
For being you. For being steady. For making this easier than it should be.
"For being a good friend," she said finally.
Something flickered across his face—disappointment, maybe. But it was gone before she could be sure.
"Anytime," he said, then cleared his throat.
Riley climbed into her car and drove away, watching him in the rearview mirror until he disappeared.
Back home,Riley found her mother in the kitchen, elbow-deep in cookie dough.
"Riley! Perfect timing. I need you to roll these."
Riley washed her hands and started rolling dough, falling into the familiar rhythm.
"So," her mom said casually. "Grant's coming to dinner on Sunday."
"I heard."
"I'm making pot roast."
"Mom."
"What? He loves pot roast."
"You're being obvious."
Carol smiled, unapologetic. "I'm being a good host. There's a difference."
