“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve wanted to stop by, but we’ve been so busy since we got back into town.”
“You should swing by while she has the cranberry muffins,” I suggest. “I didn’t even realize I liked cranberries until last week.”
Ginger grins. “Or gingerbread coffee.”
I chuckle. “That too.”
Drew makes a face. “How’d you get Jordan to drink flavored coffee willingly?”
“She didn’t give me a choice,” I say.
Ginger shrugs, unapologetic. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Nina grins and leans over for a fist bump. “That’s my girl.”
“For the record,” I add, “it was delicious. And for the sake of all the men at this table who shudder at the thought of flavored coffee, I was once like you. But now I’m telling you to try gingerbread. You won’t regret it.”
“My granddaughter doesn’t make a single thing that doesn’t taste good,” Pops brags, beaming.
Ginger leans her head against his shoulder. “Aww, thanks.”
Across the table, my grandfather leans forward and jabs a thumb toward Pops. “Too bad my stingy friend here doesn’t like to share.”
I shake my head and droll, “That’s really helpful, Gramps.”
“I’ll send some treats home with one of your grandsons,” Ginger says sweetly.
“Pfft. They’ll never make it to me,” Gramps replies without hesitation.
Reed holds up his hands. “I’m not even going to deny that accusation. I know my limits.”
“I guess I’ll have to drop them off myself,” Ginger tells Gramps.
“Can you bring some of that gingerbread coffee too?” he asks.
She nods. “I sure can.”
“You might want to bring extra muffins, and guard them with your life,” I say, tipping my head toward Reed, who’s already eyeing Ginger like she’s the family’s dealer. “This one has zero shame.”
Reed shrugs as he chews and swallows a mouthful of food. “If loving muffins is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”
Ginger laughs, and the easy sound stirs a warmth in my chest. She’s relaxed now, her shoulders no longer so tight, her fork moving through her mashed potatoes. She even jumps into the chaos, passing the rolls to Drew.
She fits here.I’m surprised by how well she does, but that’s not something I should be thinking about right now—or ever. Ginger needs to remain off-limits, as she always has. I’ve never crossed that line, and I never will. Our lives are already intertwined because our families are friends, and we’re part of the same social circle. The possibility of fallout from things going wrong is enough to make me keep my distance.
My mom catches my eye from across the table. She smiles, glances at Ginger, then looks back at me, as if she’s telling me she knows what’s happening. I lower my eyebrows and shake my head, silently telling her she’s wrong.
My focus returns to eating everything that’s left on my plate. When I’ve finished, I lean back in my chair and rub my stomach. I may be full, but there’s still plenty of room for dessert.
Pops clears his throat and raises his glass, silencing the room. “All right, before we have dessert and the pie coma kicks in, and someone ends up snoring on the couch with their pants unbuttoned…” He pauses, leveling a pointed look at Gramps, who shrugs good-naturedly. “I want to thank our friends, the Thorne family, for so graciously sharing this delicious meal with us. The last couple of years have been difficult without my dear Helen, but it’s days like this that make it all worthwhile. Here’s to full stomachs, loud conversations, never-ending laughter, family, and friends.” He lifts his glass. “Cheers.”
We all raise our glasses. “Cheers,” we echo before we drink.
Glancing across the table, I find Ginger laughing at something Nina’s saying to her. Her cheeks are pink, and her eyes shine. For a second, all the noise around us fades. It’s just her. She’s all I see.
Reed kicks my foot, yanking me back to reality. I send him a grateful look. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He leans over whispering, “Seems like you’ve got some thinking to do, bro.”
