I glance away like I’m very interested in a snowbank.
Mom’s hand brushes my elbow. “Look at you.”
I do the stupid thing where I immediately check myself, like she means there’s something on my face, but she’s smiling. Not the careful smile. Not the “everything’s fine” smile.
The real one.
“You’re… glowing,” Mom says, but it feels so… foreign.
I try to brush it off, but the feeling lingers, soft and unexpected. Maybe I’m starting to feel like I belong here.
“I’m freezing,” I correct, because I cannot handle that level of emotion before noon.
Mom laughs quietly. “That too.”
Then she looks past me, and I follow her gaze.
Dallas is across the square, helping Ruth adjust a sign that keeps slipping sideways on the easel. He’s got that McCoy focus face on. Jaw set, hands steady, shoulders broad under his jacket.Lila is bouncing nearby, holding a stack of handmade valentines and directing traffic like a tiny foreman.
When Dallas looks up, his eyes find mine immediately.
It’s not even dramatic. It’s just… automatic.
Like he knows where I am even when he’s doing something else.
And the look he gives me, warm, amused, proud, hits me in the middle of my chest like a soft punch.
Mom watches me watching him. Of course she does.
She doesn’t tease. Doesn’t comment. She just squeezes my hand once and says, “I’m happy for you.”
That sentence could’ve shattered me a month ago.
Today, it just lands like something I can carry.
“Okay,” I manage. “Before I sob in public like a Hallmark commercial, I need to get a shot of the fire pit.”
Mom smirks. “Go, director.”
Director.
That word makes my spine straighten.
I weave through the crowd, phone up, capturing moments like they’re fireflies.
Mrs. Calder and her husband dancing slowly by the fire, her head on his shoulder like she’s done it a thousand times.
Laura organizing napkins into a flawless stack because, even though napkins don’t need perfection, Laura does. She catches me filming and immediately adjusts her posture like she’s been waiting for a camera her whole life.
Jet swatting Nash with a towel because he tried to steal a cookie off the tray.
Rose laughing so hard she has to bend at the waist, breath puffing white.
Clay crouched to tie a kid’s boot without being asked.
Boone lifting Lila onto his shoulders so she can hang a heart on the tallest branch of the “Love Tree,” his hands careful like he’s holding something precious.
I post a reel.
