Page 102 of Catch the Sun

My cheeks heat, paralleling the warmth in the room from the nearby oven. We both plop down on the giant sofa with Matty and Pete on our right and Mom and Kai’s father, Ricardo, on our left. Kai sits across from us on the ottoman, sipping from a tumbler of holiday punch, while the Manning men graciously tend to the potluck feast in the kitchen.

I catch my mom stealing glances at Max, her unspoken approval echoing louder than the clinking of utensils and the subtle hum of conversation in the room. Her gaze trails him as he organizes salad bowls and casserole dishes before she gifts me with a warm, genuine smile. She doesn’t say anything. Words unsaid spill between us, and her eyes tell me that she’s proud. Relieved. Grateful for Max and our budding relationship that has pulled me from rock bottom, giving me a lifeline.

“My son and I very much appreciate the invitation,” Ricardo says, breaking through the quiet moment and leaning back with a cocktail in hand. “It’s hard acclimating to a new town.”

Mom nods. “We know the feeling all too well. It’s nice knowing we’re not alone.”

“I admire your gumption and strength, Candice. Getting to know you this evening has been eye-opening in the most positive way.” When Mom blushes and bites her lip, Ricardo pivots with a timid smile. “Kai told me how kind your daughter has been to him.”

“I’m right here, Dad,” Kai mumbles through a slurp, his bronzed cheeks pinkening.

Brynn! lifts her foot and gives his ankle a little knock. They share a smile.

“I don’t know if I’d saykind,” I add with a shrug. “I more or less aggressively pursued his friendship. Force was involved. He had no other choice but to submit.”

Brynn! giggles. “That’s what I did with you, Ella. And now look at all of us!” She sighs dreamily. “One big happy family.”

I lean over to whisper in her ear with a grin, “Sisters one day, perhaps?”

Her face falls.

She recovers quickly, bobbing her head up and down and plastering on a smile. “Yep.”

Hmm.

Matty pipes up beside us, hoarding an entire tray of Christmas cookies in his lap. He says through a crumbly bite, “Whoever made these cookies is my new best friend. We’ll be inseparable.”

“We have a spare room at the house,” Pete chimes in.

“The offer is on the table.”

“As long as cookies are on the table.”

Kai lifts a hand then brushes his bangs aside. “Um, thanks. I’ll pass on the room and board, but I’m happy to make you cookies whenever.”

The cookies actuallydolook fantastic. Every one of them is intricately designed with a different holiday theme, from snowmen to reindeer, looking like they came straight from a prestigious bakery. The guy has talent.

I reach across two laps to snag a candy cane cookie, my eyes popping when I take a bite. “Holy shit. These are crazy good.”

“Language, Ella,” Mom scolds.

“Holy barnacles. These are crazy good.”

“Barnacles are horrific,” Matty says, visibly shuddering.

“He has trypophobia,” Pete says.

I blink. “Holy frijoles. These are crazy good.”

Everyone seems satisfied. Mom and Ricardo continue conversing, inching closer together on the couch with every giant sip of rum-infused punch as their hands wave with extra gusto and the laughter loudens. Matty and Pete are still on the topic of trypophobia, so I decide to leave the adults, grabbing Brynn! and Kai by the wrists and dragging them away from the new debate about why lotus pods are more distressing to look at than clusters of insect eggs.

Kai looks oddly tipsy as we sneak out the front door to mingle on the porch. I narrow my eyes at him, the crisp December air tamed only by the bright sun. “What are you drinking?”

“Punch,” he says.

“More specific.”

“Punchy punch.”

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