“And Natalie?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you,” he says. “For inviting us.”
I swallow. “Don’t make it weird. It’s just dinner.”
He gives me a look that says we both know it’s not just dinner, then kisses my forehead and finally rolls out of bed.
By the time I get to my mom’s house, the sun is already starting to dip lower, the sky turning that pale, washed-out blue that makes Christmas lights look brighter against the houses. The air is mild, the kind of cool that feels good after a warm day, not the bone-deep cold people up north complain about in December.
It smells like roasted garlic and something sweet when she opens the door. She pulls me into a hug before I even step over the threshold, careful but firm, her hands automatically bracketing my stomach the way they always do now, like she’s checking on both of us at once.
She pulls back to look at me, eyes scanning my face like she’s trying to read whatever I brought in with me. “How are you feeling?”
“Uncomfortably full of human,” I say. “Otherwise okay.”
She smiles, then glances over my shoulder, clearly expecting someone behind me. “Is he coming?”
“Yes,” I say. “They’ll be here around six, I think.”
Her eyebrows lift, just a little. “I can’t wait,” she says, a little excitement in her voice.
We move into the kitchen, where every surface is covered with bowls, platters, cutting boards, and half-chopped herbs. She’s already in full Christmas Eve mode. A pot bubblesgently on the stove.
She pulls a pan from the oven, the heat washing over us. “So, it’s going well with Jake?” she ask, not looking at me.
“It is.”
I inhale slowly, letting that settle in. My instincts have betrayed me before. I’ve missed things that were right in front of me. And yet, there’s nothing jangling in the back of my mind with Jake. No quiet wrongness I’m trying to ignore. Just the steady, unfamiliar feeling of being seen and chosen and not rushed.
The doorbell rings, slicing through the moment. My mom wipes her hands on a towel.
“Please don’t say anything embarrassing,” I mutter as I slide off the stool.
“No promises,” she says, and heads for the front door.
Jake stands on the porch in a navy button-down and dark jeans, that glimmer in his eyes that says he’s missed me. Standing next to him is a woman with kind eyes and his same dark hair threaded with silver, cut in a neat, practical bob.
“Hi,” I say, suddenly very aware of how pink my cheeks feel.
“Hi,” Jake says, his gaze softening the moment it lands on me. He reaches for my hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.
I turn to the woman beside him. “Hi. You must be Jake’s mom. I’m Natalie.”
“Linda,” she says. Her smile is warm and immediate, and she goes straight in for the hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I feel like I alreadyknow you.”
My mom appears at my side, and I shift so they’re all in front of me. “Mom, this is Jake, and his mother, Linda,” I say. “And this is my mom, Elena.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” my mom says, stepping forward, giving Jake a big hug, and then taking Linda’s hand in both of hers.
“Thank you for having us,” Linda replies. “And for feeding us.”
My mom laughs. “Come in. There’s plenty of food. Always.”
Once we make it to the living room, Linda’s gaze drops to my stomach with an impatient fondness. “May I?”
“Of course,” I say, a little surprised at how okay I am with that.
