I pause, deciding to lay my last card on the table, the one thing I know will get through to her. “You know, my mom is the one who figured it out. That I was in love with you.”
“What?” Her head tilts, her nervousness momentarily forgotten.
I give her a genuine, easy smile. “It was at the summer festival, a couple of years ago. You were working that face-painting booth. You had this little girl on your lap, a butterfly on her cheek, and you were making her laugh so hard she was snorting. And I was just… watching you. From across the green. I couldn’t look away. Later that night, my mom found me sitting on the porch steps, just staring into space. She asked me what was wrong. I told her nothing. She just looked at me for a long time, and then she said, ‘You’re in love with Millie Harper, aren’t you?’ And I just… I couldn’t even deny it.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, chasing away the last of the shadows in her eyes. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm. “So, believe me when I tell you that they already know. They’ve known for a long time. And all they want is to see you happy.”
She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing. “Okay,” she says, her voice stronger now. “I’m ready to go in.”
“Good,” I say, relief washing over me. “And for what it’s worth, Jessica’s here too. And Maddox and Knox will show up in a few minutes. We’re all in this together.”
She nods, a look of determination on her face. “Okay. Thanks.”
She opens her door and gets out, straightening her dress. On the passenger seat sits a small bouquet of wildflowers, wrapped in brown paper from Grace’s flower shop. She grabs them, a small, hopeful gesture.
I follow her up the walk, my heart thumping a nervous rhythm against my ribs. The moment I open the door, the scent hits me. Beef stew. Rich and savory, with notes of thyme and carrots. It’s the smell of home.
My mom is there, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her face lighting up the second she sees Millie. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her arms opening wide.
Millie walks into her embrace, and I watch as the tension drains out of her body, replaced by the solid, comforting warmth of my mother’s hug. Aunt Dee is there too, her hand resting on Millie’s back, a silent, supportive presence.
“How are you doing, honey?” Mom asks, pulling back to look at her, her hands cupping Millie’s face.
Millie just nods, her eyes welling up with tears. But these aren’t tears of fear or embarrassment. They’re tears of relief. Of coming home.
The vibe in the room is one of pure, uncomplicated love. There’s no judgment, no awkward questions. There’s just the scent of stew, the warmth of the fire, and the feeling of being surrounded by people who would move heaven and earth for you. And in that moment, I know everything is going to be okay.
Just then, a sharp knock on the door makes me jump. My body tenses again, a conditioned response I can’t seem to shake.
“I’ll get it,” I say, pushing myself out of my chair.
I open the door to find Knox and Maddox standing on the porch, a light dusting of snow on their shoulders. Knox is holding a bottle of red wine, the label dark and expensive-looking. Maddox’s hands are shoved in his pockets, his gaze fixed on me, a silent question in his eyes.
“Hey,” I say, stepping aside to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Knox says, handing the bottle to my mom as he walks past. “Maren. It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Sheriff,” Mom says, a genuine smile on her face as she takes the wine. “I’m just glad everyone is here. All together.”
The word “everyone” hangs in the air, heavy with meaning. We all know what she means. Our strange, complicated little family.
Dinner is a noisy, chaotic affair. The dining table is crowded, elbows bumping, plates clinking. Jessica is there, her bright laughter cutting through the low hum of conversation. She tells a story about a customer at the café who tried to pay with a jar of pickles, and Mom laughs so hard she snorts, a sound I haven’t heard in years.
The stew is delicious, rich and savory, and for a little while, we can all pretend we’re just a normal group of friends having dinner. I watch Millie, her face relaxed, a small smile playing on her lips as she listens to the conversation. She’s sitting between Maddox and me, her hand resting on my thigh under the table.
It’s Knox who breaks the comfortable spell. He clears his throat, setting his fork down beside his empty plate. The conversation dies down, all eyes turning to him.
“There’s something I need to tell you all,” he says, his tone shifting, becoming more formal, more sheriff-like. “While I was at the station earlier, I was able to get through to a lawyer. A good one.” He looks directly at my mom. “We were able to help you, Maren. To file another restraining order against Arnold. A permanent one this time.”
My fork clatters against my plate. My blood runs cold. “What are you talking about?”
I stare at him, my mind racing. A restraining order? A permanent one? I didn’t even know they were working on this.
Mom reaches across the table, her hand finding mine. Her grip is tight, reassuring. “It’s true, honey,” she says softly.
“I had no idea,” I manage to say.
