As I lock the car and head to the door, I consider that this could be the last time I walk toward her place, and the idea makes my chest constrict painfully.
I shake off the sensation. Tonight will go well. I’m sure. Last night was an off night. Everything is going to be fine.
The door swings open as I hit the bottom step outside, and a woman with blond hair pulled up in a messy ponytail appears. Before she can even cross the threshold, a cry sounds from inside. “Mama, please!”
The woman turns around and crouches, talking in soft tones to the crying child. “Mama has to go to work, but Daddy’s taking you up to the Donadios’ for dinner, and you get to hang out with Savvy.”
Ah, this must be John’s wife. What did he say she did for a living? A nurse, maybe? If so, the scrubs she’s wearing make sense.
John himself appears, scooping the little boy up, then grasping his wife’s neck and pulling her in for a kiss.
When she smiles up at him, the warmth already growing in my chest expands, blooming into something stronger. They’ve got at least two little ones, and with their professions, they probably don’t get a ton of time together, yet their love is palpable even from several feet away.
“Night, babe,” she says, spinning toward the door again.
I step back so I don’t take her by surprise, but when she gets through the door, she spots me.
“Oh!” She pulls up short.
I move the bottles of wine into one arm and hold out a hand. “I’m Camden Snow, Savannah’s boyfriend.”
Beaming, she adjusts the bag on her shoulder and moves her Thermos from one hand to the other so she can accept the greeting. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My heart skips in my damn chest. “From Savannah?”
She laughs. “No. My husband. He hasn’t shut up about meeting you, and once he found out you were going to the Donadios’ for dinner tonight, he spent all afternoon on the phone with his buddies from work, acting like a gossip girl.”
I chuckle. “You heading to work?”
Her smile falls a little. “Yeah, wish I could join you all for dinner but”—she shrugs—“duty calls.”
I dip my chin and skirt around her to get out of her way. “I hope you have a good night.”
The building is quiet when I step inside, so I head up the stairs and knock on the Donadios’ door, assuming Savannah will already be there. Instead, I’m greeted by Rosalie, and Savannah is nowhere in sight.
“Ah, good man. You brought two bottles.” She nods at the wine, grinning. “Come in. You can help me set the table.”
The scents of fresh baked bread and garlic hit me as I enter the small apartment. The place is bigger than Savannah’s studio, with the living room to the right and the kitchen separated from it by a half wall. Nick is seated in a recliner with the television blaring, and past his chair, there’s a hallway.
Quickly, I slip off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack by the door. I greet Nick, who gives me a smile and a nod before turning back to the television, then follow Rosalie into the kitchen, where a folding table has been pushed up against the four-person table. Several folding chairs are propped in a stack against it, waiting to be set up.
I put the wine on the counter and turn to Rosalie. “Any particular way you want the table set?”
She’s shuffled to the stove and is stirring a pot of sauce. “Nope,” she says over her shoulder. “Not much room in here, and it will only get smaller when the Donovans come, so as long as you can get all the chairs around the table, we’re good.”
I make quick work of positioning them, then bring the stack of plates set out on the counter over and place one in front of each chair. While I work, Rosalie promises to teach me how to make her meatballs and pasta, explaining that they’re Savannah’s favorite.
When the door swings open, I spin around, a big smile on my face and my heart practically fucking floating.
But rather than Savannah, John appears with the little boy I saw earlier and another little guy who looks almost identical to him. “The girls went up to Savvy’s to do their makeup,” he says with a laugh.
The little boys—twins, John Junior and Frankie, I’m told—are busyimmediately, clambering up on chairs and picking up silverware and napkins.
Rosalie peers over at me, a sweet smile on her face. “Why don’t you go tell Savannah that dinner will be ready in a few minutes?”
My stomach flips in response to the idea. Is it nerves, maybe? Yeah, I think I’m nervous about seeing her. Worried, I guess, that things will be awkward after last night. Anxious to find out whether she’s back to being normal again.
But more than all of that, I’m excited to see her. I’ve attended plenty of family dinners like this, where I’m the odd man out. I can make conversation with just about anyone, and considering John is a fan, we’ll always have hockey talk to fall back on. But for the first time, I’m attending a dinner with a person I actually want to sit beside. Someone I want to share the meal with. And unlike all the other meals I’ve had with friends, tonight’s includes sitting at the table with the people who belong to the woman I think I’m falling for.
