Page 158 of Now and Then
I wrinkle my nose. “If by okay, you mean freaking out, then yes. Yes, I’m okay.”
“No need to be nervous.” His hand cups the back of my neck, thumb sweeping a soothing line. “You’ve known my parents forever.”
“Never as your girlfriend. Never in our house.”
Last weekend, we had the talk and, much to the surprise of no one, we decided it felt right for us if I officially moved in.
Time has been a thief for long enough.
We are done wasting it.
I step away, smoothing the table runner for the third time. The napkins are folded like little trees, candles lit, cider simmering, and the turkey’s in the oven. The warmth in the house surrounds me.
“This is supposed to be just right,” I mutter to myself, rearranging the silverware another centimeter apart.
“People are coming for Christmas Eve, not a home inspection. You know this, right?” Hunter says, lips twitching.
“This is my first time hosting our families. I would really like it if it was perfect.”
He crosses the room and tilts a perfectly straight candle off-center, then kisses my cheek. “It already is.”
The doorbell rings before I can demand he never sabotage my symmetry again. The anticipation bursts, and soon there are boots stomping in, Greer’s voice echoing, Luke calling out greetings. Mom looks beautiful in black slacks and a sequined holiday sweater. Hunter’s mom, Jackie, hands me a bottle of wine like I’ve passed some hostess rite of passage.
Hunter’s dad, Rhett, drops a hideous sparkly Santa riding a reindeer in my palms. “For the mantel,” he announces proudly.
I swallow a laugh and tuck it safely on display.
As if we don’t even live here, everyone begins their own tours of the house—oohing and aahing at the backsplash, the light fixtures, the floors, the framed photos Greer insisted I hang, and especially the large oak dining table.
I stand back for a second and watch it all unfold. Rhett points to the mantle like he built it himself. Jackie already has her shoes off and is rearranging throw pillows. Greer and Mom are in the kitchen opening the fridge and putting out more appetizers.
Hunter catches my eye across the room and mouths, I love you. My heart stumbles over itself as I grin back it him, because somehow, after everything, this still feels a little like magic.
I breathe deeply and return the sentiment.
Laughter rolls, music hums low through the speakers, and drinks flow. Greer helps me chop vegetables for the salad while Luke and Hunter keep Rhett occupied. Jackie flutters between giving advice and pretending she isn’t. Mom compliments the napkin tree, and I preen like I knitted them myself.
Everything is fine.
Until the smell changes.
It starts subtle. Less cozy pine and more toasted panic.
“Do you smell . . . ?” Mom says.
Jackie sniffs. “Sutton, honey, is that the turkey?”
My heart drops into my patent leather Mary Janes. I sprint for the oven, and when I open it, I’m greeted with smoke.
Actual smoke.
“No, no, no, no!”
Greer bursts into snorts behind me. Rhett opens the front door while Luke waves a dish towel dramatically like it will help.
Hunter slips beside me, shoulder brushing mine. “Everything okay?”
“No! Does this thing look okay to you?” I feel it just under the surface. The tears are ready to fall, the apology on the tip of my lips. It’d be so easy to spin into the old Sutton.
