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Heat flooded my cheeks. “I didn’t…”

“You did. We’ve been trying to set him up forever. Nothing stuck because he was waiting.” Her expression softened. “Turns out he was waiting for you.”

“That’s very romantic and probably not accurate.”

“Honey, he installed motion lights on your house before you’d had a real conversation. Man was gone from day one.”

She bustled off to wrangle her own kids, leaving me standing there processing. I pulled out my phone to text Tyson.

Me: Rose just gave me the shovel talk but in reverse. Apparently I brought you back to life?

Tyson: Oh god. What did she say?

Me: Four years of sad flannel was mentioned.

Tyson: I’m moving us to another town.

Me: Too late. I’m invested in the local coffee shop.

Tyson: The sacrifices I make for your caffeine addiction.

That night, Wes and Delia came for dinner. We’d decided to tell them properly, though based on Rose’s morning intelligence, the whole town probably already knew. Still, Tyson wanted to do this right.

We waited until after dessert, when Noa was occupied with her dinosaur coloring book at the coffee table.

“So,” Tyson started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair.

“Smooth,” Wes murmured.

“We wanted to tell you…” He looked at me helplessly.

“We’re together,” I finished. “Officially. We’re going to try to make this work. As a family.”

Delia’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Finally!”

“You knew?” Tyson asked.

“Everyone knew, honey. You two weren’t exactly subtle.” She reached across to squeeze my hand. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“I’m in love with her,” Tyson said suddenly, like the words had been building pressure. “Completely, stupidly, permanently in love with her.”

“And I love him,” I added, feeling my own eyes sting. “Despite the death trap stairs and his inability to cook anything besides pancakes.”

“My stairs are structurally sound!”

“Debatable.”

Wes raised his beer. The man who’d called me “young lady” every single time, no matter how many times I’d told him my name, who’d driven me crazy with it until I realized it was his version of a handshake he hadn’t quite decided to upgrade.

“To family,” he said, looking at me. “However it forms.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Glad you’re sticking around, daughter.”

The table went quiet. Even Noa stopped fidgeting. Wes had never called anyone daughter except Rose.

“To family,” we echoed, and my voice cracked on the second word.

After they left, we sat Noa down for our own conversation. She abandoned her coloring to climb onto the couch between us, already sensing something important.

“What’s happening? Are we having another family meeting? Can I be the meeting leader?”