“Holy shit,” Clare breathes, staring up at the house from the passenger seat.
I grin at her reaction. There’s something almost vulnerable in her expression, like she’s seeing something she didn’t know she wanted.
“That’s the exact reaction Mom was going for,” I say, cutting the engine. “You ready for this?”
Before she can answer, the front door explodes open, and my mother comes barreling out like she’s been shot from a cannon. She's wearing a Christmas sweater that lights up and jingles when she moves. Her face radiates enough joy to power the national grid.
“Mitchell!” She’s across the driveway before I’ve even gotten out of the car, pulling me into a hug that threatens to crack ribs. “You’re here! You’re actually here!”
“Hey, Ma.” I hug her back, breathing in the familiar scent of sugar cookies and vanilla perfume. For a moment, the knot of tension I’ve been carrying loosens slightly.
Then she spots Clare climbing out of the passenger side, and her eyes go wide.
“And you must be—”
“Clare,” I say quickly, moving to Clare’s side and sliding my hand to the small of her back. The touch is supposed to look casual, protective. But the moment my palm meets the soft wool of her sweater, something electric shoots through me. “Clare, meet my mom, Karen.”
“Mrs. Drake, it’s so nice to meet you.” Clare extends her hand with that professional smile she uses for difficult reporters.
My mother completely ignores the offered handshake and pulls Clare into a bone-crushing hug instead.
Over Clare’s shoulder, she looks directly at me with wide eyes and mouths, “She’s gorgeous!”
I bite back a grin, feeling heat creep up my neck. Leave it to Mom to have zero subtlety.
“Please, call me Karen. And welcome to the family!” She pulls back to study Clare’s face with the intensity of a scientist examining a rare specimen. “Mitchell’s told us absolutely nothing about you, which means you’re either very special or very patient.”
“Both,” I say, letting my hand drift up to rest between Clare’s shoulder blades. She’s tense, overwhelmed, and I can practically feel her overthinking every interaction. “Ma, maybe let her breathe before you interrogate her.”
“I’m not interrogating. I’m being friendly.” Mom beams at Clare. “Are you hungry? I’ve got ham in the oven, green bean casserole, and Grandma June’s famous dinner rolls rising. Mitchell, help her with her bags. Clare, honey, come inside where it’s warm.”
As we head toward the house, I lean close to Clare’s ear. “You’re doing great. Sorry I know this is a lot.”
Her shoulder brushes against my chest, and I catch the scent of her shampoo—something clean and floral that makes me want to bury my face in her neck. Which is…not helpful.
She glances up, and the look in her eyes sends my pulse racing.
“Thanks,” she says softly. “Your mom seems lovely.”
“She is. Just wait until she starts asking when we’re getting married.”
The house is exactly as I left it—warm, chaotic, and noisy. Evan’s kids are racing around the living room with enough energy to power a small city, and I can hear Maddie’s laugh echoing from the kitchen.
“Uncle Mitch!” Sophie, Evan’s six-year-old, launches herself at my legs with enough force to take down a grown man. I barely manage to avoid taking a knee to the balls.
“Hey, Soph.” I ruffle her hair. “Have you been good this year?”
“Mostly.” She grins up at me, then notices Clare standing beside us. “Who’s that?”
“This is Clare. She’s my girlfriend.”
The words come out easier than they should, and I realize with uncomfortable clarity that they don’t feel like a lie.
“Are you gonna marry her?” Sophie asks with the brutal honesty that only children can get away with.
Clare makes a noise that might be a laugh or might be choking. I keep my hand steady on her back, feeling the way her breathing has gone shallow.
“Sophie, what did we say about asking grown-ups personal questions?” Evan appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. The lines around his eyes speak to someone who’s been through his share of battles—divorce will do that to a man. He extends one to Clare with a genuine smile. “I’m Evan, the responsible brother.”