I brush past him to grab the olive oil, letting my hand linger at the small of his back. He leans into me, turning his head to steal a quick kiss. His lips are warm, tasting faintly of the red wine we’ve been sipping together, sharing one glass. I love domestic life with him. These casual moments are everything to me now, but once would have sent me spiraling. Now being with him settles in my chest like sunlight, like something to brag about, to be proud of. An honor.
“Keep that up and dinner’s going to burn,” Noah murmurs against my mouth.
From the doorway, my dad clears his throat with theatrical exaggeration. “You two are sickeningly adorable.”
Kat laughs, appearing behind him with a stack of plates. “Leave them alone. They still look at each other like that after six months of working together, sharing an office and basically living together? I’m proud of you both.”
Zennie pushes into the kitchen, dusting her fingertips along Kat’s shoulders. “Oh that’s so sweet to hear.”
“No,” Kat gasps playfully, clinging to her wife’s shoulders. “Honey! Let me explain!” She dramatically melts against her, and everyone laughs.
“I just need ten minutes here and there to be in myhead. You know me. I love you with all of my might but being together non-stop is hard.” And with that, Zennie wraps her arms around my sister’s back.
“I know. You need your price gouging thought time.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” My uncle Geo shouts from the other room, which has Kat storming after him, a grin on her lips.
Zennie stays behind a second. “I love ganging up on her a little at the end of the night.” She makes her eyebrows leap a little. “Makes her feisty in bed.”
I hold up my hand. “Zen–absolutely not.”
She smiles, and follows after her wife, leaving my dad, myself, and Noah.
“Noah,” my dad says, coming into the room, shaking Noah’s hand. “Let’s spend a weekend together. What do you like? What do you want to do?”
“Dad–”
“I like fishing. Do you like fishing?” Noah asks my dad.
Dad breaks out in a grin. From the kitchen, Kat calls. “Oh god, he’ll cry. The child he never had who likes to fish.”
Dad lets out a low sigh and I’m fairly certain Noah is going to regret this offer because whether it matches his outward appearance or not, Ford Mercer fucking loves fishing.
“I love fishing,” Dad says. “Okay, email me your availability, trip’s on me, only rule is Cade can’t come. But you can bring your father, your brother if you have one or multiple or—you get the drill.”
Noah extends his hand to my father again, and they shake again. “Awesome. My dad loves fishing. He’d love a weekend of fishing, and he’d love to meet you.” Noah looks between me and my dad. “And my older brother, Ben, he’d love to come.”
I glance at Noah, who’s watching me with that devastating half-smile, the one that still makes my stomach flip even after sharing an office for so long, and eating every meal together, and spending every moment we possibly can together.Still makes my stomach flip.
We carry the dishes to the table together—risotto creamy and delicious, roasted vegetables, Zennie’s garlic bread still steaming. The conversation flows easily as we all settle in to our first family dinner. My dad regales us with stories from his latest bar opening while Juliette clings to his arm and strokes her fingers down the back of his neck. A couple months ago I would have rolled my eyes at that.
But I get it now.
Kat talks about her upcoming listing, all while shooting Noah appreciative glances when he refills her glass without being asked.
Under the table, Noah’s foot hooks around my ankle, and heat spreads up my leg like wildfire. I squeeze his knee in response, letting my hand linger. The touch sends a familiar heat curling low in my belly. In those private squeezes and unseen touches, we promise each other later, later we will get naked and feast on one another.
Later.
“So,” Zennie says, pointing her fork at us, “rumor has it you two are planning a summer trip. Spill.”
Noah’s eyes light up. He sets down his wine and turns to me, the way he always does when sharing our plans. “We’re thinking Greece. Two weeks. Santorini, maybe Mykonos. Long mornings, afternoons exploring ruins, evenings watching the sunset with a glass of wine.”
“Sounds romantic,” Kat teases.
“It will be. Noah’s been teaching me Greek phrases. Terrible pronunciation, but he’s patient.” We share another glance but then our attentions are divided, and my dad talks to Noah about boats while I get lost in detail about Kat’s new listing.
And time presses on, and before we know it, we’ve gone through several bottles of wine, two trays of Tiramisu, and my dad and Noah two cigars a piece. The night is rich with healthy conversation and laughter, and even though I’m exhausted when everyone is out the door at midnight, I’m not too tired.
