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With the quicksilver personality of an eight-year-old, she shrugged and grinned at me. “But I’m better now. I saw Dr. Caldwell today, and he says I’m doing really good.” Remy beamed up at me. “You helped me get better.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “You did the hard work, sweetheart. I just helped you figure out how.”

Lane’s hand found the small of my back, brief but grounding. When I looked at him, his eyes were suspiciously bright, too.

“Okay, tour time!” Remy announced. “I’m gonna show you everything!”

The next twenty minutes were a whirlwind of Remy showing me every corner—her room with its pale lilac walls and mountain of stuffed animals, the bathroom where she brushed her teeth all by herself, the kitchen where Grandma made the best cookies in the world, and the backyard with its tire swing and vegetable garden. Remy looked at the burned trees for a couple of seconds, then deliberately made herself move on. It made me proud to see her face the source of her fears and move on.

“Daddy built the swing for me,” Remy said proudly. “And Grandma grows tomatoes. Do you like tomatoes?”

I widened my eyes theatrically. “I love tomatoes.”

“That’s a good thing because Grandma puts them in everything.”

I laughed, and Remy grabbed my hand, dragging me back inside just as Julia called, “Dinner’s ready!”

The dining table was set beautifully—real plates, cloth napkins, a centerpiece of candles and the flowers I’d brought. Julia had gone all out.

“This is lovely,” I said. “Thank you so much for having me.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Julia said, setting an enormous glass dish of lasagna in the center. “Lane, help me bring the rest.”

Lane and Julia disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Remy and me alone.

“You sit next to Daddy,” Remy instructed, pointing to the chair beside Lane’s. “I’m sitting here.” She climbed into her own seat across from us.

“I’m comfortable next to your daddy,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness.

Remy grinned. “Good.”

Lane and Julia returned with salad, garlic bread, and more wine. Once we were all seated, Julia raised her glass.

“To new friends and family dinners,” she said.

“To family dinners,” we echoed.

The meal was delicious, and the conversation flowed easily. Julia told stories about Lane as a child—how he’d tried to rescue a baby bird that turned out to be a very angry crow. How he’d accidentally dyed all his white undershirts pink in the washing machine last month.

“Mom,” Lane protested, his ears reddening. “You’re supposed to be making me look good.”

“I’m making you look human,” Julia said serenely. “Much more appealing.”

I couldn’t stop grinning. Their relationship was easy, natural, and I felt like I’d been having dinner with this family for years.

They also talked about his father, who had been gone about five years. He had been a deputy as well. Julia’s eyes softened as she talked about him. “He was the love of my life,” she admitted, and drank from her glass.

When Julia asked me about my family, I shrugged lightly. “Most of them are in Colorado Springs. My dad is getting ready to retire from Peterson Space Force Base, and my mother has two more years as a professor at the University of Colorado Springs. She teaches engineering. We see each other about once a month.”

“Does your dad go to space?” Remy asked, tilting her head, her big blue eyes wide in her face.

I laughed. “No. He does something with satellites. It’s top secret, and he’s not allowed to tell us.”

She looked properly impressed as she chewed a mouthful of garlic bread.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Julia asked.

“I have one brother stationed in Germany right now in the Air Force,” I told her, “and a sister who is an engineer in Brazil. We don’t get to see each other very often.”