“Morning, kiddo.”
She looks up from her phone, eyebrows knitting together. “I wondered where you were.”
Shit. Right. This must look weird, us walking in together.
Stay calm, Fletcher.
“Yeah. I, uh—” I gesture vaguely. “Vince and I needed to talk. About stuff. You know, grown-up things.”
She looks between us, slowly, blue eyes narrowing behind her glasses. Then mouths,ooookay, before going back to her phone.
Vince rolls his eyes at me, biting back a laugh. My ears burn. Sometimes, I lie worse than a teenager.
After starting the coffee, I scramble some eggs while Vince butters some toast. We move effortlessly together, predicting each other’s movements.
Partway through the meal, my phone rings. Sarah’s name lights up the screen.
“Hey,” I say, answering.
“Oh, good. I caught you. I just have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Ryan and I are figuring out the Christmas Eve menu for this weekend, and it made me wonder… are you bringing Vince?”
The question knocks the breath out of me, and I nearly drop my phone. I haven’t let myself think that far ahead. It felt too dangerous. Too impossible. Painful, even, since I didn’t know if Vince would even be here this long.
But now the image floods in with perfect clarity—Vince seated at Sarah’s crowded dining table, surrounded by people I love. Laughing with Darren. Teasing Ryan’s kids. Belonging—really belonging.
It aches how much I want that.
“I… um. I’ll need to talk to Vince about it,” I manage.
Vince looks up at the sound of his name.
“Of course. He’s invited, though. You know that, right?” Sarah says.
Her warm tone calms me. “Yeah, I know.”
“Okay, good. Tell you what, I’ll just plan on an extra seat, and if he comes, he comes. If not, that’s fine too.”
I let out a breath. “Thanks.”
I disconnect the call and force myself to take another bite. Vince watches me curiously. I shake my head subtly. Not yet. Not in front of Georgie.
The teen looks up then, eyes wide. “Avalon’s parents are inviting me to go to a movie with them. Will says he can pick me up in an hour.”
“Guess you better go shower then.”
She scrambles out of the dining room.
In the silence, I clear my throat and turn to Vince. “So, um. Sarah invited you to Christmas Eve dinner.”
He blinks. “She did?”
I nod, trying not to look too hopeful.
“And what doyouthink?” he asks carefully.
