Vanessa moves back to the stove, and I take in the rest of the room.
Asher leans against the counter beside her, his hand resting on her hip like it lives there. Vanessa swats at him when he reaches for a taste, and he steals a bite anyway. She rolls her eyes, but her body leans into his without thought or effort.
The same way I'm already turning toward Cole now, and catching myself a beat too late.
Miguel is parked near the stove, stealing olives from a bowl while keeping one eye on the room. "You know what they call cheese that isn't yours?"
Vanessa's eyes close. "Kuya. Don't."
"Nacho cheese."
The groan is collective. Miguel grins, entirely pleased with himself, and goes back to his olives.
Across the room, Jax argues with someone about the music—too loud, he's saying, we need ambiance not a nightclub—and I follow his voice to find Mira leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed and her expression utterly flat. But her eyes track him with a focus that doesn't match the boredom on her face, and she hasn't moved an inch closer to him all evening. That kind of deliberate distance takes more effort than closing it would.
Vanessa appears beside me again, following my gaze. "Oh, don't even try. I've been watching them for months and I still don't—like, Jax is over there arguing aboutplaylist vibesand she literally spent last Tuesday dismantling a weapons cache, and somehow they go home to the same apartment and itworks? I have theories but none of them make sense."
I glance back at Mira. Jax catches her eye from across the room and winks. She doesn't react. But she doesn't look away, either.
"I see it," I tell Vanessa.
"Right? It'sinfuriating."
Damian occupies an armchair near the windows with a glass of whiskey, watching everything and contributing nothing. He catches me looking and offers a single nod, an acknowledgment that comes with a clear boundary attached.
I nod back.
"Angelina!" Xander waves from where he's crouched beside Chesca's stool, showing her something on his phone. She giggles, covering her mouth with both hands. "She says you never let her see the good videos."
"The good videos are age-inappropriate."
"This one's pandas. Totally safe."
Chesca beams at me. "Can I watch?"
"Yes, piccola."
Xander grins.
Remy appears near the dining table, wine glass in hand, smiling like nothing's wrong. But there's tension in his shoulders, and the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Food's ready!" Alina announces.
The room reshuffles as everyone finds seats and dishes start passing hand to hand. Serving spoons clink against ceramic, and steam rises off the adobo as Vanessa lifts the lid.
Jax steals bread from Mira's plate and gets his hand slapped hard enough to make him yelp. Kade pours water down the line. Vanessa explains the adobo to anyone who'll listen while Alina defends the superiority of her grandmother's red sauce, and Miguel mediates between them with the patience of a man who's been settling kitchen arguments since childhood.
Cole pulls out the chair beside his and waits until I sit before taking his own seat. His knee presses against mine under the table.
Chesca ends up between me and Xander, already talking his ear off about soccer camp.
"—and THEN at go-karts, I beat Dad by like a whole second, and he said it was because my kart was lighter but I think he's just mad he lost—"
The table goes quiet.
Xander's eyebrows climb. Jax freezes mid-reach for the bread. Even Damian's glass pauses halfway to his mouth.
Something loosens in my chest, warm and sudden like a knot I didn't know I was holding.