Page 66 of Restored By You

I’m parked at the kitchen island with Cassidy and Maci, on official pie-guarding duty, which mostly means keeping Levi’s hands off the apple before dinner. Cassidy’s already smacked his hand with a wooden spoon twice without looking. Gage, on her hip, claps his chunky baby hands.

And across the kitchen, standing very stiffly beside the counter in a sweater that costs more than the entire spread of food, holding a glass of wine, is my father.

I still can’t quite believe he came.

He and Michelle arrived twenty minutes ago with an enormous, obviously-catered fruit and cheese arrangement that Julie accepted with a smile so sweet it could strip paint. It became clear to me from the moment he walked through the door, Daniel Winton is deeply, fundamentally out of his depth.

I catch his eye and give him a small smile. You’re okay.

He nods back, stiff. He’s uncomfortable, but he’s here, and he’s trying. And that counts for a lot.

Dinner is called the way everything in this family happens—loudly, chaotically, and with someone yelling about the seating.

“There’s not enough chairs!”

“Bring the ones from the porch.”

“Parker, that’s the dog’s spot.”

Somehow, we all fit. The big farmhouse table is extended with a folding one at the end that doesn’t quite match, and the sprawling, blended mess of us crams in elbow to elbow. Rhett’s beside me, one hand on my thigh under the table. Tyler’s across the way, wedged between Parker and Levi. My father and Michelle are down near Julie’s end, which I eye with a flicker of alarm after what Rhett told me about his mom not liking my father very much.

“Before we eat,” Clayton booms, standing at the head with his glass raised, “your mother wants everyone to say what they’re thankful for, so make it quick, the turkey’s gettin’ cold and Levi’s already eyeing the rolls.”

“Mm,” Levi mumbles, mouth already full of butter and bread.

We go around and it’s sweet and chaotic and I have to grip Rhett’s hand under the table to keep it together. Then it gets to Julie, who sets down her fork, folds her hands, and turns her hospitality on the man at the far end of the table.

“I’m thankful that our family has grown this year. That we’ve got Shea and Tyler, who are just a joy.” She smiles at me. “And I’m thankful that even folks who got off on the wrong foot can find their way to a shared table.” Her smile sharpens. “More turkey, Daniel? You look positively worn down. All that traveling. I always say there’s nothing a home-cooked meal can’t start to fix, for those who don’t get many.”

The table goes very, very quiet.

My father, to his credit, sets down his wine. “Um, thank you, Julie. It looks wonderful.”

“Oh, it is.” She’s already loading his plate whether he wants it or not, heaping it high. “I made everything myself. From scratch. No caterers.” A beat, a smile. “But that fruit tray was lovely, dear. Very…thoughtful of whoever assembled it.”

Beside me, Rhett makes a sound into his water glass. Levi has given up all pretense and is openly grinning. Even Beau’s mouth twitches.

“Julie,” my father says slowly, and I brace myself for embarrassment.

But then my father does something I have never in my life seen him do. He laughs. A real one, startled out of him, rusty like a door that hasn’t opened in years.

“You know,” he says, “I deserve that. I deserve considerably worse, actually, and I suspect you’ve got it loaded and ready.” He inclines his head toward her with a hint of respect. “Your son is a better man than I gave him credit for. And he clearly gets it from his mother. So, thank you for having us. Truly.”

Julie considers him for a long, assessing moment, then the corner of her mouth lifts. “Well,” she chimes. “You’ve got some sense, then.” She picks her fork back up. “Eat your turkey, Daniel. You’re too thin. It worries me.”

Michelle chuckles beside him. “I tell him that all the time.”

And just like that, the table exhales and returns to its regularly scheduled chaos. I look around at all of it—the mismatched chairs, the too-much food, the man I love beside me, the stepbrother I never asked for, yet somehow needed all along.

My chest goes so full I can barely breathe.

After dinner, the house sorts itself into the men arguing over football, the babies going down for naps, Levi somehow roping Tyler and Duke into a game of cards at the kitchen table while Parker ‘helps’ by narrating everyone’s hand out loud.

I slip out onto the wraparound porch for a breath of fresh air, and I’m not surprised when the door opens behind me a minute later.

What surprises me is that it’s my father.

He comes to stand beside me at the railing, both of us looking out at the snow-dusted mountains going gold and pink with the early sunset. For a while neither of us says anything. We’re not good at this whole father-daughter relationship thing yet, but we’re trying.