Victoria held back the laughter that bubbled in her chest. “He’ll eat anything,” she said.

“Well, we’ve got greens, macaroni, dressing, ham, turkey...” Her mother trailed off as she counted the items left out on the counter to cool. “And you’re sure he’s not one of those vegans?”

“He’s not,” Victoria assured. “Thank you for going through all the trouble, Mom.”

“And did you already have dinner with his people?”

“We did, I met his sister, who just got back from Sweden,” she said. “It was really nice.”

Her mother stopped busying herself long enough to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “I did a lot of thinking since your last visit.”

Victoria bit her lip and glanced down at the white tile of the island. “I’m sorry for coming off too aggressive.”

“And I’m sorry for being so bossy,” Katherine said.

Mother and daughter paused for a moment to stare at one another. Victoria’s mouth tugged at the corner, trying to decide whether to cry or smile. Katherine took the first step, reaching out and taking her daughter’s hand.

“I just want you to know that I’m going to do a better job of butting out. After all, you’re a grown-ass woman,” she said with a twist of her mouth.

“Thank you.”

Their moment ended just as quickly as it began, with her mother returning to the oven. Yeasty bread rolls were next in line to be loaded up. “He’s good to you?” Katherine asked over shoulder.

Victoria nodded. “He’s good to me.”

“That’s all I need to hear.”

Only when she sensed everyone had gone to bed, Victoria crept to John’s guest bedroom, in the cover of darkness, and opened his door. “John?” she whispered.

“Victoria?”

She quietly closed the door behind her and tiptoed to where she remembered his bed was. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Is that a fact?” he asked in a low purr. “You’re not allowed in here, young lady.”

Victoria felt his body shift as she climbed into his bed. “Can you stay quiet, Johnny?”

“I absolutely can,” he whispered. “In your parents’ home, I’m not going to do anything that would warrant noise.”

“You’re no fun,” she said, snuggling up against his bare chest, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close.

“You know what’s fun? Not getting in trouble with the Master Gunnery sharpshooter and his wife.”

“I want to know what you talked about with the Master Gunnery Sergeant while you were outside smoking the turkey.”

In the darkness, she could barely make out his body, but felt him shift to his side and lean on one elbow. “We talked about you, my love.”

“What about me?”