“Always,” I said. Our fingers brushed as the plate changed hands. The contact was brief but unreasonably warm.
Dinner was loud in the best way. Pierre listened more than he spoke, Phoenix teased Elyna, Cooper added sarcastic commentary that made even Becket grin. I sat between Sandy and Asher, answering Angela’s gentle questions about the shop, laughing when Braden threw a spoon and everyone acted like it was a national emergency.
Across the table, Eric didn’t speak much. But every time I glanced up, he was watching, not in a way that claimed, just in that quiet way he always had, like he was trying to memorize what steady looked like. At one point, when Phoenix made a joke about the wedding toast, I stretched my legs out across the table. Our toes rubbed. He didn’t pull back right away. Neither did I.
“So how are the wedding plans going?” Pierre asked Elyna and Phoenix.
“We’re very ready,” Phoenix answered.
“I have the flowers covered. Thanksgiving weekend is going to be unforgettable this year,” Sandy assured.
“Thanks, Sandy,” Elyna beamed. “I hope I didn’t come across as a bridezilla with my requests.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Every bride has a vision for their wedding day. As your florist, I aim to please.”
Cooper brought out a tray of different meats. Phoenix poured small tastes from labeled jars. Elyna ran the list. Dominic and Angela asked easy questions about the shop, about flowers that lasted. Pierre, sat next to Sandy at the table, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes softer than I remembered.
Phoenix raised his glass. “To the woman who tricked me into being happy.”
Elyna laughed, bumping his shoulder. “You really were a grump.”
Glasses clinked. The peach seasonal appeared. Phoenix pretended he didn’t brew it; everyone pretended to believe him. For a few minutes, my only job was to chew and smile.
Talk drifted to wedding prep and how lanterns were to decorate the orchard, then they moved to chair counts and band lists. Asher tried to convince everyone the reception needed pyrotechnics. Cooper declared he’d only come if there was a champagne fountain.
And then Sandy leaned over and said, “Speaking of fountains, some of us already have one that’s working just fine.”
Pierre choked on his drink. “Sandy . . .”
“What?” she replied, feigning innocence. “You were the one who said age is just a number. I’m just confirming you’re right. Young at heart, young in?—”
“Stop,” Phoenix groaned. “Please stop.”
Elyna covered her face with both hands. “I can’t hear this.”
Cooper let out a dramatic whistle. “Well, there goes dinner.”
Pierre’s cheeks went red, but he was laughing, the deep, genuine kind of laugh that made the whole table join in. “You’re going to get me disowned, woman.”
Sandy smiled, eyes glinting. “Then I’ll keep you, Pierre Thorne. You make a fine sugar daddy.” She winked.
“She’s a lightweight,” Pierre explained to the table. “But I like her that way.” He winked, and all the brothers groaned together while I tried to hold back laughter.
Dominic dropped his fork. Angela laughed so hard she snorted. Asher mimed plugging his ears. “I’m traumatized.”
“Grow up,” Sandy said, reaching for Pierre’s hand under the table. “We’re adults. We can flirt and eat dinner at the same time.”
Pierre gave her that soft, proud look which made something ache behind my ribs, like this family had somehow learned how to love out loud after years of silence.
The laughter rippled until even Elyna peeked through her fingers and said, “If this is what family dinners are like now, I’m eloping.”
“Too late,” Phoenix retorted, kissing her temple.
The noise faded into easier conversation after that, the kind that hums when everyone’s full and safe and a little too warm from the drinks.
Becket arrived late in a sweater instead of his uniform, hugged Elyna, and nodded at me. “Glad you came.” If there was one person at this table who truly knew what I did when I helped send my father to prison, it was him, and I was happy to have him as a friend in my corner.
After dinner, I ate the best apple cobbler known to mankind.
