After a long beat, Drew exhales, his posture softening under the weight of it all. “Sorry.”
He crosses the room in a few long strides, wrapping his mom in a warm hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek before reaching over to ruffle his sister’s hair. “Paiges.”
Drew smiles, giving me a friendly chin dip before turning to the sink to wash his hands. “So, what’s for dinner and how can I help?”
“Pizza. Although I’m asking Sam to choosemytoppings.” Paige hands her brother an onion and nods toward a cutting board.
He arches a brow and studies his sister with amused curiosity. “And why can’t you pick your own?”
“Yes, why can’t you choose your own?” Olivia tilts her head with a teasing smile that matches her son’s.
With a flip of her hair and an exaggerated eye roll which I quickly learned is quintessential Paige—she answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because he’s a chef. His choices are killin’ it. I just tried an artichoke and I loved it.”
My smile stretches wider at her declaration. Coming from the youngest in the room—and the fiercest critic—I’ll take the compliment and bask in it. Olivia laughs softly, nodding in agreement with her daughter’s impeccable logic.
“You’re a chef?” Drew sniffles as he wipes tears from his eyes, thanks to the onion, not emotion.
“Yeah.” I place the ball of dough in a bowl and cover it with a damp cloth.
“Cool.” He scrapes the small pieces of onion into a small glass bowl and then picks up the roll of goat cheese to begin his next task.
The four of us finish the prep together, conversation flowing easily between music, TV, and movies. We trade good-natured jabs whenever someone admits to a cringe-worthy favorite, laughter rolling through the kitchen and settling into the walls like it belongs there.
Every so often, Olivia pauses mid-chop, watching the three of us—her kids and me—with that soft, faraway smile that tugssomething deep inside me. There’s pride in her eyes, but also wonder, like she can’t quite believe how easily this moment fits.
And like her, I also find myself drifting into my own thoughts about the here and now. Because standing here, surrounded by her and the life she’s built, I feel that quiet, immediate pull again, the one that tells me I’m already in far deeper than she’d want me to be.
She’s still holding parts of herself back, protecting what’s left of her heart, and I can’t blame her. But hell, if she only knew—my heart is already hers.
Once the dough’s ready, we make our pizzas, and I can’t help but bite back a laugh when both Paige and Drew choose the exact same toppings as me. Of course, as to be expected, Paige can’t resist calling her brother out on it. Then another round of trash talk ensues.
While Drew is eating, his phone, perched next to him on the table, buzzes with an incoming text.
His sister glances down. “Laura’s texting you? Is that a thing?” He snatches the phone, glaring at Paige. “I’m only asking because I thought you weren’t interested.”
“We’re just friends. I can’t help it if she wants some of this hotness. The ladies love me.”
“Stop. I’m trying to eat. Hashtag get over yourself.” Paige snorts with an eye roll.
Olivia and I laugh. Her kids are sharp and funny, easygoing in that effortless way that comes from being comfortable in their own skin. They tease each other mercilessly, and just as easily turn the jokes on themselves.
After we’ve cleaned up from dinner, we drift out to the backyard where tiki torches flicker, curling citronella smoke into the warm night air. The sky’s a stretch of mauve velvet, the neighborhood hushed except for the occasional hum of an engine or a distant voice carried on the night air.
We settle around the small, makeshift fire pit, roasting marshmallows and talking about nothing and everything. It feels easy. Real.
Paige eventually bolts when her friend Marci shows up, and Drew soon follows, mumbling something about being tired.
When it’s just the two of us, I finally get my chance. “About earlier tonight.” I rub the back of my neck. “I totally goofed, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles, the firelight catching her hair, turning it copper. “It seems to have worked out. I have no clue what you said to Paige, but you seem to be her new BFF. We need to be more careful.”
Across the flickering flames, her eyes find mine, her expression shifting from casual to something softer, lighter.
“What’s got you smiling?”
“You. You’re good with them.” Her voice carries a quiet lilt of amusement.
“Nah. They’re easy to get along with.”
