"In the kitchen, Mom!" he calls, voice only slightly strained. "Rylan just got here too."
Alexandra appears in the doorway. Her eyes take in the scene: Jamie's mussed hair, my flushed face, the wine bottle stillunopened on the counter, and something knowing crosses her expression.
Panic claws at the back of my throat, but when I meet her eyes, there's no judgment, only the same warm acceptance from the restaurant in Boston. Something about that brings a lump to my throat that I have to quickly swallow down.
"Perfect timing," she says smoothly. "Joseph's parking the car. Rylan, dear, would you mind helping Jamie with the appetizers while I freshen up?"
"Of course, Mrs— Alexandra," I correct myself at her look.
As she disappears down the hall, Jamie lets out a shaky breath. "Well. That was..."
"Yeah." I glance at him. His lips are still slightly swollen from our kisses, and something possessive flares in my chest.
"Later," he promises quietly, reading my expression. Then, louder as footsteps approach, "Can you grab those crackers from the pantry?"
I move to help, falling into an easy rhythm with him as his father arrives, already deep in discussion about some literary theory. But I catch Alexandra watching us work together, her smile soft and understanding in a way that makes my throat tight.
This is what family looks like, I realize. This easy affection, this casual acceptance, this warmth that wraps around you like a blanket.
Something I never let myself want before Jamie Pirelli showed up in my life.
Jamie's dining setup is a creative mix of his regular table with what looks like a borrowed card table, all covered by a tablecloth I suspect Alexandra brought with her. Somehow it works, making the space feel cozy rather than crowded as we all squeeze in. Jamie's dad is still talking about some obscure literary theory with Adam, while Lola arranges her napkin with the precise movements of someone used to power lunches with Supreme Court justices.
I find myself cataloging the differences between this place and my own sparsely furnished apartment. The warm glow of actual candlelight instead of my usual harsh overheads, the way dishes get passed family-style instead of my carefully pre-portioned meals, the easy flow of conversation and laughter. Even the minor chaos of Jamie having to hunt for an extra wine glass feels... right, somehow.
"So Seattle's your first American team?" Lola asks, leaning forward with interest. "After Montreal and Toronto, right?"
"Winnipeg too," I add, focusing on perfectly aligning my fork with my knife. "Played there for a couple seasons between Montreal and Toronto."
"That's quite a journey," Alexandra says softly. "All those Canadian teams, and now here. How are you finding life in the States?"
"Different," I admit. "Even after three years, some things still catch me off guard. Like Thanksgiving being in November instead of October."
I catch Jamie's slight smile at my mention of Canadian Thanksgiving.
"Well, we're certainly glad you're here," Alexandra says warmly. "Jamie tells us you've been a wonderful captain. The team seems to be coming together under your leadership."
"Mom," Jamie groans, but he's smiling.
"I'm just making conversation," she protests innocently. "Though since we're talking hockey, that goal you two scored last week was quite impressive..."
"Oh god," Lola laughs. "Now you've done it. She's been watching all the game highlights, saying she needs to 'understand the team dynamics.'"
"I'm a psychologist," Alexandra sniffs. "Observing group behavior is literally my job."
The easy way they tease each other, with warm acceptance beneath every interaction almost makes me choke up. This is what family dinner should be like. I haven't had this for so long…
"You know," Alexandra says casually as she passes the platter, "Seattle seems like a wonderful city. And it's nice to have everyone together like this."
The invitation in her words is clear, even if she doesn't say it directly. My chest aches with how much I want what she's talking about. I want to be part of this warm circle of acceptance and understanding.
As we finish dessert, Alexandra insists Jamie stay sitting, "You cooked!"
Jamie laughs "Mom, I picked up the pre-cooked meal at Whole Foods. All I did was put stuff in pans and heat it up!"
She brushes off Jamie's protest with a casual wave. "Keep your seat. I need your captain to assist me with something in the kitchen."
"If she starts interrogating you, just bark like a dog and I'll come to rescue you!" Jamie calls out as I gather dishes. His mom responds by flinging her napkin at his head.
