June appeared at my shoulder, a towel slung over her shoulder. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He smiled at her like she’d said something important.
I excused myself before I intruded too much.
As the sun dipped low and the first strands of music drifted through the speakers, I looked around the room and saw something I hadn’t seen in years:
My sisters. Smiling.
A house that felt like it might be forgiving us.
And maybe the beginning of something new.
Dinner startedthe way most family dinners do—ambitiously.
We’d pulled off pasta with fresh herbs, garlic bread that onlyslightlyburned on the bottom, and lemon cake that Lily insisted on decorating with a rainbow of sprinkles and a single seashell she found in the driveway.
Harper had arranged the chairs like she was conducting a board meeting. June lit three candles, then blew one out because it was "too much.” And I told Alexa to play some Edith Piaf and pretended I wasn’t vibrating with nerves.
Grant arrived right on time, smelling faintly of cedar and ocean, which felt unfair.
He stepped inside with that easy kind of confidence people only earn from spending a lot of time alone or surviving something big. Maybe both.
“Wow,” he said, surveying the table. “Looks like a magazine spread.”
“See?” I said, nudging Harper. “Told you it was a vibe.”
“Just sit down,” she replied, but her lips twitched like she might actually be enjoying herself.
Lily beamed as she showed him her cake, complete with the driveway seashell.
Grant crouched to her level again—he was good at that, I noticed. Never talked down to her. Just met her where she was. “This is incredible. You made this yourself?”
“I supervised,” Lily said. “Mom did the oven part. And Aunt Willa let me userealsprinkles.”
He looked up at me. “Risky move.”
“I like to live on the edge.”
We all settled in, plates full and napkins in our laps like civilized humans. For exactly four minutes.
Then Harper dropped her fork and said, “We forgot the salad.”
June shot up. “I’ll get it?—”
“Wait, no, it’s fine?—”
“It’ll only take a sec?—”
Meanwhile, Lily knocked over her lemonade, and I laughed way too hard and somehow set a napkin on fire trying to light another candle.
Grant calmly blew it out, picked up the glass shards, and asked if anyone wanted more bread.
Somehow, that was the moment the whole thing clicked into place.
We all exhaled.
The room filled with the clatter of silverware, the clink of glasses, the scent of roasted garlic and lemon, and beneath it all, a strange, tender kind of ease.
