You’re the one getting ahead of yourself with all these worries,his bear countered.She’s here. We’re here. That’s what matters.
Caleb couldn’t argue with that logic. He gathered two plates, forks, and, on a whim, two small glasses. The bottle of wine they’d opened at the vineyard sat on the counter where he’d left it earlier. There was easily enough for a couple more glasses.
When he returned to the living room, Hannah had moved to sit on the rug before the fire, the blanket pulled around her shoulders. The sight of her there made his heart stutter.
“What did you bring?” she asked, eyeing the bag with undisguised curiosity.
Caleb set everything down on the coffee table and pulled out two slices of his mother’s blackberry pie, still warm from the oven, the deep purple filling glistening in the firelight.
“My mom’s specialty,” he said, placing a slice on a plate and handing it to her. “Blackberry pie with a hint of cardamom. It’s... well, you’ll see.”
Hannah took the plate, inhaling deeply. “It smells amazing.”
“It goes especially well with this particular vintage of Thornberg wine,” he said as he poured the wine.
“Perfect,” Hannah said, accepting the glass with a smile.
They settled side by side before the fire, the heat washing over them as they ate. Caleb watched from the corner of his eye as Hannah took her first bite, savoring her reaction more than the pie itself.
Her eyes closed briefly, a soft sound of appreciation escaping her. “Oh my goodness,” she murmured. “This is incredible.”
She loves it,his bear said, unnecessarily pleased.Our family’s food. Our mother’s recipe.
I can see that,Caleb replied, taking a bite. The familiar flavors of home filled his mouth... sweet berries, buttery crust, the subtle warmth of spice.
“Your mother is a genius,” Hannah declared, taking another bite. “Seriously. This might be the best pie I’ve ever had.”
Pride swelled in Caleb’s chest, not for himself, but for his family, for the traditions they’d built, for the simple joy their food could bring.
“She’ll be thrilled to hear that,” he said. “Family recipes are sacred in the Thornberg household.”
Hannah nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Food is memory,” she said softly. “It’s one of the truest forms of love I know.”
The simplicity of her statement caught him off guard. It was exactly what his family believed, what they’d built their lives around. The restaurant wasn’t just a business; it was their way of caring for their community, of creating a place where people felt nourished in every sense.
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice low. “That’s exactly it.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the crackle of the fire and the occasional clink of forks against plates. Caleb found himself hyper-aware of every slight movement she made—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the careful way she gathered the last crumbs of crust on her fork, the gentle sigh of contentment as she finished.
When they were done, Hannah set her plate aside and leaned back on her hands, her face tilted toward the fire. The flamescast a golden glow across her skin, making her appear almost luminous in the darkness.
She’s glowing again,his bear observed.
She is,Caleb agreed, unable to tear his gaze away.
“Thank you,” Hannah said, turning to look at him. “Not just for the pie. For today. All of it.”
Caleb swallowed hard, caught in her gaze. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I know,” she said simply. “But I want to.”
She shifted closer; the blanket slipping slightly from her shoulders. Caleb’s breath caught as she leaned toward him, her eyes never leaving his. There was a question in them, an uncertainty that belied the deliberateness of her movements.
His bear surged forward eagerly.She’s going to kiss us!
I know,Caleb replied, his heart hammering in his chest.
Hannah paused, her face inches from his, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath, could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then back to his eyes, the question becoming more evident.
