“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Spence moves to face me. His hands settle on my waist, grounding me, steady and warm.
“Wow,” I shake my head. “I never thought I'd see the day.” Neither did the little boy who spent his life trying to earn his father's approval. But somehow that boy feels a lifetime away tonight.
Later, I’m in Anthony and Chance’s kitchen plating the mini cheesecakes I brought. I lay down tiny circles of my blackberry sauce in perfect swirls.
Harper walks in—but she doesn’t look at me. She walks directly to Spence, leans close, and whispers, “I know what you did last summer.”
My brows zip together. Harper pats his cheek and goes back to the living room with the others.
I stare at Spence. “What was that about?”
He shrugs. “I have no idea.”
I give him a look that says he’s not fooling me, but before I can question him further, Tyler appears. He swiftly reaches for a cheesecake. Spence smacks his hand.
“Hey.” Tyler jerks back. “Ow!”
“Ryan isn't done yet,” Spence scolds.
Tyler groans. “Come on.”
“Patience.”
I point at him with my piping bottle. “Yeah, T-Bone. Patience.” I glance at Spence. “Trust me.” Our eyes meet. “Everything tastes better when you're patient.” Spence’s gaze turns molten.
Tyler makes a gagging sound. “You guys are gross.”
Spence and I both shrug.
“How's Niiiiick?” I ask.
Tyler points at me. “Nope. Truce. I won't make fun of you guys anymore.”
“Smart choice,” Spence says on a laugh.
Tyler leans against the counter, looking toward the living room at all the people gathered there, then back at us. “Your little friend family group is pretty awesome.”
I set down the bottle and point at him and Spence. “You two.” I smile. “You're my family now.”
Spence's eyebrows shoot up.
Then I point toward the living room. “That pack of loons out there?” I smiled wider. “They'll be your family too. If you let them.”
Tyler fake wipes at his eyes. But I see the warmth there.
The hope. The belonging.
Cricket appears behind Spence and wraps him in a giant bear hug. “That's right.” She squeezes him tighter. “You have two sisters now.”
Spence groans, but his face is filled with pure joy and adoration. Cricket kisses his cheek before deftly stealing a piece of cheesecake and running.
I laugh and go back to plating the rest of them. Around each cheesecake I paint a ring of blackberry sauce. It makes me think about Tish Winthrop. The mom of my childhood friend, Bobby. The food critic. The woman who told me I was always searching for the perfect bite.
She was talking about food—but standing here now, surrounded by laughter and family and possibility, I realize I haven’t only been doing that with cuisine.
My whole life, I've been searching for something.
