Sage lit up instantly.
She loved fixing things with grand gestures.
“Oh my God, yes,” she said. “We’ll do a whole spread.”
And just like that, we slipped into teamwork mode like professionals.
For the next two hours, we were perfect.
Embarrassingly perfect.
Sage tied her hair up and took over the kitchen like she owned it. Music on. Dancing between the counters. Tasting sauces off my fingers. Kissing my cheek like we were in a commercial.
I manned the grill on the deck, beer in hand, flipping steaks and corn like I actually knew what I was doing.
We moved around each other easily.
Comfortable.
Domestic.
Normal.
On purpose.
It was damage control.
And everyone knew it.
But nobody called it out.
Slowly, the house loosened again.
Chris started telling stories. Dan stole pieces of bread. Tony heckled my grilling technique.
By the time plates were passed around, people were laughing for real.
Not polite laughs.
Real ones.
Relief washed through me harder than it should’ve.
Like we’d just avoided something worse.
“Where’s Beth and Sean?” Mark asked, looking around.
“Yeah,” Chris added. “They dipped hours ago.”
Tony snorted. “Please. It’s Fourth of July weekend. They’re definitely not coming back.”
“Oh my God,” Dan laughed. “You think Sean finally stepped up?”
“Beth’s getting laid,” Chris announced. “That’s what this is.”
Everyone cracked up.
“About time,” Tony said. “Fireman finally putting out the right fire.”
