She looks up at me again, searching my face for something. Whatever she finds there seems to reassure her, because she relaxes slightly and gives me a small smile.
“Your grandmother’s very patient with my complete lack of baking skills.”
“Nonsense,” Grandma June says firmly. “You’re a natural. These cookies are going to be beautiful.”
“She’s right,” I say, studying Clare’s face. She’s different this morning. Softer. Like being here, being part of this chaos, has stripped away some of the armor she usually wears. “You fit right in.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, loaded with more honesty than this fake relationship can probably handle.
“She does,” Maddie chimes in, glancing between us with knowing eyes. “Almost too well.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Maddie says innocently, but there’s a gleam in her expression that puts me on high alert. “Just that you seem... different with her. Relaxed. Like yourself again.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, because she’s right. Being around Clare, watching her laugh with my family, seeing her let her guard down—it stirs something I thought I’d lost. Reminds me of the man I was before Hannah shattered my faith in happy endings.
Hannah never laughed like that with my family. She was polite, pleasant, but always slightly removed. Like she was performing the role of the perfect girlfriend without actually enjoying it. She’d smile at Mom’s stories but never really engage, would helpin the kitchen but always with this careful distance that made it clear she was just being dutiful.
Clare’s different. She’s throwing herself into things headfirst, letting Grandma June boss her around, laughing at Maddie’s terrible jokes like they’re the funniest thing she’s ever heard. She’s not performing anything—she just fits.
And the way my family’s responding to her, like she’s already one of us... Hannah never got that. They were always kind to her, but there was never this easy acceptance, this natural fit.
Maybe that should have been a warning sign.
“Everyone seems different here,” Clare says diplomatically. “It’s impossible not to relax around this family.”
“Even when they’re interrogating you about your intentions?” I tease.
“Especially then. Your family’s very... direct.”
“That’s the Minnesota way,” Mom says proudly. “No point in beating around the bush.”
“I like it,” Clare admits. “It’s refreshing.”
She means it, I can tell. And watching her fit so seamlessly into my family’s holiday traditions, seeing how naturally she’s accepted their teasing and warmth—it’s doing things to my head that I’m not prepared for.
“Mitch, go get some more eggs from the fridge,” Grandma June orders. “And stop staring at your girlfriend like a lovesick puppy.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Evan says, appearing in the doorway with his coffee mug. “It’s actually kind of pathetic.”
“Thanks for the support, man.”
“Anytime.” He grins at Clare. “How’d you sleep? I hope the bed wasn’t too uncomfortable.”
There’s innocence in his voice, but his eyes are dancing with mischief. He knows exactly how small that bed is.
Minuscule, really.
“Fine,” Clare says quickly, her cheeks going pink again. “Just fine.”
“Really? Because Mitch looks like he didn’t sleep at all.”
I flip him off, which only makes him grin wider.
“Language,” Mom says automatically.