I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. It really is.”
EMILY
This was fine. Totally fine.
I’d met the Rockfords before. They were lovely people. The way they all showed up to my art show was amazing. All I was doing now was returning the favor by showing up to their Sunday barbecue. No big deal.
I mean, maybe Cam had tried to keep it casual when he let me know his mom had invited me. And maybe there was a certain something in his gaze when I’d said yes, of course, that would be lovely.
Obviously, I should have asked if this meant something, but I was too chicken shit for that.
So now my heart was doing this weird fluttery thing and I was hyperaware of Cam in the driver’s seat. He’d glanced at me twice in the last five minutes like he wanted to say something but then changed his mind.
“Grandma’s gonna have cookies,” Alice announced from the backseat.
“She always has cookies,” Audrey added.
I twisted in my seat to smile at them, grateful for the distraction. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip. And sometimes she makes the ones with the M&Ms.”
“Those sound amazing.”
They launched into a debate about which cookies were better while I turned back around and tried to ignore the fact that my palms were sweating.
Tried to convince myself, again, that this wasn’t a formal introduction to Cam’s family. It didn’t have to be this massive thing I was building it up to be in my head.
Except it felt massive. Everything with Cam felt massive now, especially after New York. It was like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn’t see the bottom of, windmilling my arms, terrified of the fall.
“You okay?” His voice was quiet, meant just for me.
“Yeah. Fine.” I plastered on my brightest smile. “Just hungry.”
He didn’t look convinced but didn’t push. Before I could spiral any further, he turned into white painted gates and drove down a long, tree lined drive.
He’d barely pulled to a stop before the girls undid their seatbelts and clambered from the car.
“Hold on,” he called after them, but they were already racing toward the front door.
“I guess they’re excited.” I unbuckled my own seatbelt, trying to match their energy. Trying to feel excited instead of this low-grade uncertainty that had been humming under my skin all morning.
He came around to my side as I climbed out. “Fair warning, it’s going to get loud.”
“I can handle loud.” Well, at least I sounded confident and calm.
He lay his hand on the small of my back as we walked toward the house. It was heavy and warm, making me feel instantly more comfortable.
The front door was already open, the girls having burst through ahead of us. I could hear voices, laughter, the sound of children playing somewhere in the back.
We stepped inside and the smell hit me first. Grilled meat and something sweet, maybe pie. The hallway opened into a large living area with windows that looked out onto the backyard. Comfortable furniture, family photos on the walls, that lived-in feeling that made a house a home.
And then I saw it.
I froze mid stride as all the oxygen whooshed from my lungs.
On the wall across from the windows, positioned where anyone walking through would see it immediately, hung a painting. My painting. The one from the gallery show.
It was just.. there. Hanging on their wall like it belonged. Like it had always been there.
