Page 129 of A Perfect Fit

She’s right; she knows every corner of my apartment now, which I have zero complaints about. Whenever she’s in my apartment, it feels brighter, more complete, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle being put in place.

After putting the pizza trays on the dining table, I take my seat next to Isabelle and pour a glass of red wine for everyone—except Anna, who gets apple juice instead.

Once everyone’s settled in their seats, I lift my wineglass, glancing around the table. “A toast to family and to new beginnings.”

There are some cheers and clinking of glasses.

“This looks delicious,” Victor says, eyeing the various pizzas.

“Isabelle and I made them,” I say. “The eggplant pizzas are the best, by the way.”

“Actually, the pepperoni one’s the best,” Isabelle says, mischief in her tone.

“We’ll see,” I quip.

We dive into our meals, and sadly, my eggplant pizzas end up being the least popular among the group, even though I think I did a pretty good job with it.

Mom turns to Isabelle. “Isabelle, Jackson says you’re hosting your own fashion show. How’s the event planning going?”

Isabelle swallows her bite of food. “It’s going great,” she then responds, cheeriness in her tone. “We had a fitting session with the models this week, which went well.”

Pride fills my chest as she speaks. I can’t wait for her big day.

“That’s so exciting,” Mom gushes, grabbing another slice of pizza. “I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’ll go on to do.”

Isabelle smiles. “Thank you so much, Suzie.”

“Can I come to your fashion show?” Anna pipes up. She takes a piece of mushroom from her pizza slice and puts it inside her mouth.

“Of course, Anna.” Isabelle glances around the table, her eyes lighting up. “I’d love for you all to come.”

“I read your interview in Sparkes Magazine, Isabelle,” Lucy adds. “It was brilliant.”

“Thank you,” Isabelle says. She turns to me. “That interview wouldn’t have been possible without Jackson.”

“I’m just happy to see Isabelle get the recognition she deserves,” I say.

“Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Anna squeals.

“What do you think, Anna?” I ask, grinning.

Anna bounces in her seat, looking like she’s received an early Christmas present. My heart bursts at the joy—so pure and genuine—radiating from her face.

“Can I be the flower girl when you get married?” she asks, eliciting laughs from everyone at the table.

I exchange another look with Isabelle, giving her a small smile before facing my niece again. “Well, I think you’d make an amazing flower girl, Anna.”

“Yay!” Anna cheers.

The conversation diverts to other topics, and Isabelle’s chatting with my family like she’s known them for many years. I toss another glance at my beautiful girlfriend, smiling as she selects another slice of Hawaiian pizza from the tray and laughs at something my sister says.

Home isn’t a place. It’s a person. It’s a feeling. It’s her. It’s the memories we create and share together, the small moments in the day-to-day. Everything feels natural when it’s with Isabelle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When dinner’s over, Lucy and her family are the first to leave to meet Anna’s nine p.m. bedtime. Shortly after, Mom decides to leave as well to check in to her hotel room.

“Are you sure you don’t want to crash at my place, Mom?” I ask. “I can just sleep on the couch.”

Mom waves a hand. “I’ll be fine staying at the hotel. I’m meeting up with someone as well over the next few days, so it’ll be easier to just stay there. But I appreciate the offer.”