I immediately reach for his hand. “I want you there, Vince.”
Something shifts between us—something heavy and meaningful. This isn’t just dinner. It’s an invitation into my life in a way I don’t do lightly.
“It’s always at Sarah’s,” I continue. “They have the most room. Anyway, it’s her, Ryan, Ryan’s kids, his parents, sometimes his grandparents. His brother. Sarah’s parents usually come too, but they’re out of town this year. Oh, and Darren is always there, so you’ll know him too.” I can practically see his face getting paler with all these names. “It’s full, but it’s not usually chaotic.They’re a good bunch of people. We just eat together and play games. Sometimes watch a movie.”
Vince looks genuinely surprised. “You still spend Christmas with your ex?”
“Yeah. Always have. We kept it up for Georgie after the divorce, trying to keep things normal. Then, after a while, Sarah insisted we just… keep going. She even invited Darren after our parents died.” I shrug a little. “Sarah’s parents didn’t love it at first, but now…” I trail off, heart warming. I’m so damn grateful for Sarah’s and Ryan’s families. Truly.
“But now?” Vince presses.
“Now, they’re family,” I say simply. “That’s the only way I can explain it.”
Vince hesitates. “And they won’t care if I’m there?”
I squeeze his hand again. “I think they’ll be happy about it. They’d want to meet you. So, think about it?”
He doesn’t even pause. “Yeah, I’ll go.”
Relief and something dangerously close to joy spreads through me. “Really?”
He squeezes my hand before pulling away. “Sounds nice.”
Georgie reappears sometime later in a rush of hoodies and leather purses. Her phone is pressed to her ear as she hurriedly slips her shoes on.
“I’m late,” she announces, like it’s my fault she took a thirty-minute shower. “Avalon’s dad is already outside.”
“Keys,” I say automatically.
She skids to a stop, spins back, grabs them off the hook, and pauses just long enough to glance between Vince and I again. Her mouth quirks.
“Bye,” she says, then disappears out the door.
The house goes still in the way it only ever does after she leaves—too quiet, like it’s holding its breath.
Vince exhales slowly. His shoulders drop an inch.
“We’ve got a few hours. Want to do anything?”
He smirks. “I can think of a few things.”
I refill our coffee, but instead of taking his mug to the table, Vince follows me around the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching as I load the dishwasher. He looks… curious. Like he’s cataloging small things—the mismatched plates, the magnet-covered fridge, the faint dent in the floor where Georgie dropped the cast iron years ago and insisted it wasn’t her fault.
“You really do have a great home,” he says quietly.
“Thanks. Took me a while to make it my own. After Sarah left I mean. I was never great at coordinating stuff.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He gestures vaguely. “It definitely feels like a home. Georgie’s lucky.”
His comment makes me look at him harder. “Did you not have that growing up?”
He makes a cold, bitter sound. “No. My parents were in the military, so we moved often. Mom never bought decorations. Sometimes we were lucky to even have pictures on the wall at all. She’d often just prop them up with a kickstand so she didn’t make holes in the walls.”
I frown. “That’s sad.”
He shrugs. “It is what it is.”
We end up back at the table, coffee growing cold between us, talking about nothing and everything. Vince asks about Georgie’s movie. I ask about his shift later. It’s easy in a way that still surprises me. No need to fill the gaps, no pressure.
