“Good. Because I’m counting on you.” She leans into me, and I press a kiss to her hair.
We head toward the dining room and sit next to each other at the large table. My family takes their places around us.
My cousins carry in each of the dishes. From the roasted turkey to the savory stuffing, everything smells delicious. I’m aware of her knee brushing against mine under the table. I sneak a glance at her, and she catches me, her lips curling into a smile that makes my chest feel lighter. Uncle Jim is already filling his plate. Grandpa, too. Having everyone together like this isn’t something I’ll take for granted. Not anymore. And with Abby here, it feels even more special.
Grandpa raises his wineglass. “To family and to new beginnings.”
We all lift our glasses. “To family.”
Abby clinks her wineglass against mine, her eyes meeting mine over the rim. The hope in her gaze suggests she’s daring to let herself believe in this—in us. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make her feel this way every single day.
As we eat, conversation flows easily. Abby tells Grandma about Powerfluff and the chaos she caused at the office, and everyone laughs.
Grandpa shakes his head. “That cat sounds like trouble. Maybe she’s the real partner in crime.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Abby giggles. “She’s the mastermind. We’re just her henchmen.”
Grandma’s eyes twinkle. “Seems like you’re in good company, Johnny.”
“Best company.” I squeeze Abby’s hand under the table. “The best company.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Abby
As I load a dinner plate into the dishwasher, John stands at the sink, elbow-deep in suds, battling with a casserole dish that must be putting up a good fight. Watching him like this—so determined and yet so out of place from our typical office setting—makes me stifle a laugh.
John looks up, eyebrows raised. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing.” I bite my lip, trying to keep a straight face. “Just marveling at how John Barrington, master of financial spreadsheets, is being bested by baked-on cheese.”
With a smirk, John flicks a glob of soap suds at me, and I yelp, stepping away quickly. “For your information, Ms. Sinclair, I’m an expert in all household duties. This dish doesn’t stand a chance.”
He renews his scrubbing effort with extra zeal, and something in me softens. My stern, exacting boss has been replaced by this playful, warm man, and my chest swells with an emotion that’s hard to name. This shift in our relationship feels unexpected but undeniably right.
Slow, Abby, I remind myself for the umpteenth time.Take things slow.
“Earth to Abby.” John holds the now gleaming dish with a triumphant grin. “Told you I’d conquer it.”
I reach for the dish, our fingers brushing in the exchange. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, and I nearly drop the dish. John’s hand covers mine, steadying it.
“Careful,” he says, his voice low and soft.
The air between us changes, the space thickening like the moment before a summer storm breaks. His eyes lock on mine, and my heart kicks into overdrive.
“John? Abby?” Maggie’s voice makes both of us jump. “Could you bring out the pies, dears?”
John drops his hand and clears his throat. “Sure, Grandma.”
As we gather dessert plates and Maggie’s prized apple pies, I can’t shake the feeling something is shifting between us yet again. The easy banter we’ve built over the day is still there, but now it’s tinged with something deeper, more serious.
We carry the pies into the living room. Every seat is taken, including the floor, except for Maggie’s ottoman and the loveseat. I wonder if this is on purpose and then realize it must be. I can’t believe that these people—these strangers—have accepted me so easily. I’ve dreamed about my family treating me this way, but I must admit I already feel more at home here than at my parents’ house, even though I grew up there.
The cozy warmth of the room and the easy laughter wrap around me like a comforting hug. This is what family should be—so different from the tension-filled chaos we left this morning. I wish Grandpa could be with me here right now. He would love this place and these people.
“Here you go.” I hand George a slice of pie.
“I was wondering if you two gave up on the dishes and ran off together,” George teases.
