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I grinned, handing it over. “Anything for you, girlfriend.”

Blythe sighed dramatically. “You guys are going to be disgusting with this.”

Charlie smirked as he reached for his drink. “Oh, they’re already disgusting with it.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “We are not disgusting.”

“You kinda are,” Charlie said with a shrug. “And we’ve only been here for five minutes. By the end of the night, I bet you two will be making heart eyes at each other over dessert.”

Wren perked up. “Ooooh, I say they’ll be holding hands again before we even get to dessert.”

Rose immediately dropped my hand under the table like it burned her, snatching her glass of water instead. “No one is making bets on us.”

Blythe grinned. “Oh, we absolutely are.”

Charlie nodded. “I’m giving it ten more minutes before Wells does something stupidly romantic and Rose pretends not to like it.”

“I will not pretend,” Rose muttered into her glass.

I chuckled, leaning toward her. “So you do like it?”

She shot me a sharp look. “Eat your dinner.”

Wren let out a dramatic sigh. “You guys are so slow. If I had a boyfriend, I’d already be married by now.”

Charlie nearly choked on his drink, and Blythe slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re eight.”

Wren shrugged. “And?”

Charlie cleared his throat, giving his daughter a warning look. “Maybe let’s not talk about marriage just yet, yeah?”

“Fine,” Wren huffed, reaching for another dinner roll. “But when you do get married, I want a sparkly dress. Preferably pink.”

Rose groaned again, but I caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

I leaned in close to her ear. “For the record,” I murmured, “I don’t mind making heart eyes at you over dessert.”

She turned just enough to meet my gaze, something warm and unreadable flickering in her eyes. Then she huffed and stabbed a piece of broccoli. “You’re impossible.”

I grinned. “And yet, you’re stuck with me.”

Blythe let out another long-suffering sigh. “Yep. Absolutely disgusting.”

Charlie just shook his head, but Wren grinned like she’d already won whatever bet she had going in her head.

And as Rose nudged her foot against mine under the table, I realized that despite everything, this messy, imperfect thing between us was exactly where I wanted to be.

DAYLIGHT

The drive home was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way like was on our way to dinner. Wells reached for my hand the moment we got in the truck, lacing his fingers through mine, and neither of us let go the entire ride. It felt easy. Natural. Like this was exactly how things were supposed to be.

By the time we pulled up to the house, the sky had started melting into streaks of orange and pink, the last bits of daylight stretching across the horizon. Wells parked the truck, and instead of heading inside, we made our way to the porch.

He dropped down onto the top step, stretching his long legs out, and I settled beside him, tucking my knees up to my chest. The air smelled like fresh hay and the lingering sweetness of honeysuckle, and a cool breeze rolled over us, carrying the sound of distant crickets.

“This might be my favorite part of the day,” Wells murmured, his voice low and easy.