Page 43 of More Than My Hometown

12

EWAN

Okay, I lied.

This definitely feels different from Sunday dinner before. Even with Maisey. But…why? We've done this. Lots. This shouldn’t feel weird. She's Maisey. My person. The one who has always belonged in the chair next to me at that table.

“Told you…” she whispers in a sing-song tone, looking up at me through her side-eye.

Her ability to read my mind is only half comforting in this moment, since it does little to ease this weirdness. At least I know we’re in it together. The way it should be.

I side-eye her back, pausing on the top stair of my parents’ front porch long enough to steal a kiss under the umbrella I’m holding. She told me all right. And I’m man enough to not argue about it.

Taking her hand, I don’t bother to knock, letting ourselves in like we own the place. A low hum of voices wafts through the air, the welcome vibrations surrounding us like a warm hug, letting us know that all is right. Something inside me clicks, settling the unease that has started to rise, the muscles in my back releasing as I exhale.

“Why, Maisey, you are practically glowing!” my father announces, sauntering down the stairs. “Y’all must have had quite the morning.”

And we’re back to things being weird…

The plastic container of store-bought brownies crunches under Maisey’s grip, her fingers reflexively tightening as her face flushes. Auggie doesn’t seem to notice the weirdness in the air thanks to him unknowingly calling us out though, continuing his jaunt to cross the room in as few strides as possible, wrapping my girl in a dad-like bear hug, clearly thinking nothing about his comment.

“It’s so good to have you home, darlin’.”

It’s good to have her home…

I sigh, watching Maisey relax into his embrace, returning the squeeze, my own insides doing the same thing, enjoying the moment. Because this is how it’s supposed to be. Or at least how I always thought it was. In high school I wouldn’t have thought twice about walking into this house with Maisey, my parents giving her a hug. Now, I’m savoring the moment.

Still, can’t let the old man have all the fun.

“That’s enough, Dad,” I say, nudging him gently with my shoulder. “You’re making it weird.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” he defends. “Can’t a man hug his favorite girl?”

“Mama’s in the kitchen,” I retort, not skipping a beat.

Maisey giggles and quickly covers her mouth, trying to hide her allegiance. My insides squeeze again, that beautiful sound going straight to my groin, making me have to fight the urge to kiss her. If I start that again, I know I won’t stop.

“Well now, Maisey, I think someone is jealous…” Auggie tsks.

Another giggle escapes as she lets go, moving from my father to me and wrapping her arms around me. Wordlessly, she rests her head against my chest and there’s no fighting my smile at this point. Or my automatic reaction of pulling her in closer and pressing my lips to the top of her head.

This is right where she belongs.

“He missed you,” Auggie whispers, winking at Maisey.

“Dad.”

I groan, unable to hold it back. Not that his statement is untrue, but does he really need to rat me out like that? He could at least pretend to be on my side. Then again, it’s no secret to men in this family that Auggie likes his daughters-in-love—as he’s recently taken to calling them—more than he does his actual sons.

“I think I missed him more.”

Fuck, yes…

The front door opens, stealing our attention—or better yet, taking the attention off us—as Milo and Brenna walk into the house.

“Are those brownies?” Milo asks, taking the container from her.

“Yeah,” Maisey admits sheepishly, the tinge in her cheeks deepening. “I felt like it would be rude to show up empty-handed. I planned on making something, but…”