“I think it’s sweet,” Grandma says. “A dog would be good company for that cat of yours.” She pauses meaningfully. “And for any little ones who might come along eventually.”
“Grandma.”
“What? I’m just making conversation.” But her eyes are twinkling.
The conversation flows naturally after that—stories about the town, updates on people I haven’t seen in years, plans for the upcoming fall festival. Theo mentions Sadie’s asked him to supply the flowers for the Winslow wedding next spring. Lucas talks about the new telehealth program he’s setting up for the older residents who can’t always make it into town.
“And you, Cara?” Grandma asks. “How’s the writing going?”
“Good, actually. Better than good.” I glance at my alphas. “I started something new. A series about a woman who comes home after years away and finds everything she thought she’d lost.”
“Sounds familiar,” Grandma says dryly.
“Pure fiction. Completely made up.”
“Of course it is.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I expect a signed copy.”
“You’ll get the first one off the press.”
Grandma laughs—really laughs, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. I haven’t heard her laugh like that in years.
By the time dessert arrives, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
When dinner is over and we’re settled in the living room with coffee and Grandma’s pie, she pulls me aside.
“I’m proud of you,” she says quietly. “You know that, right? For staying this time. For letting yourself have this.”
My eyes sting. “Grandma...”
“I know I’ve said it before. I’m saying it again.” She squeezes my hand. “You deserve to be happy, Cara. You always did.”
I look across the room. Theo is telling some story about a greenhouse disaster, his hands moving animatedly. Lucas is listening with that soft smile he gets when he thinks no one’s watching. And Nate—Nate is looking at me. Just looking, the way he does, like he’s memorizing every detail.
“I am happy,” I say. “Really happy.”
“Good.” Grandma pats my cheek. “Now. About those grandchildren.”
“Grandma.”
“What? I’m seventy-five. I’m allowed to ask.”
Later, after Grandma leaves with promises to see us at Sunday dinner and a reminder about book club Tuesday, I stand in the kitchen doorway and watch my alphas clean up.
Theo is washing dishes, singing off-key to whatever song is stuck in his head. Lucas is drying, occasionally rolling his eyes at Theo’s creative interpretation of the lyrics. Nate is putting away the leftovers, moving around them both with an ease that speaks to years of living together.
And now I’m part of it. Part ofthem.
Mr. Darcy winds between Nate’s legs, purring loudly. Traitor cat. He’s fully claimed this farmhouse—and Nate—as his own.
“You going to stand there all night?” Nate asks without turning around.
“Maybe. The view is nice.”
“The view is three idiots doing dishes.”
“My three idiots.” I cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around him from behind. Through the bond, I feel his contentment deepen.
“Get over here,” Theo demands. “Group hug. Non-negotiable.”
