While we’re here, she’s mine.

“It’s just dinner with my parents, not an engagement party. Would you rather I go without you? You can spend the evening with Keith and Dottie getting humped on the dancefloor…”

She feigns consideration, and I shake my head, pulling her into my arms. “It’s just dinner. Everything, remember?”

She relaxes in my arms and drops her head to my shoulder, breathing in my scent from my neck. She used to do that discreetly, hoping I wouldn’t notice the few times we were together intimately. And of course I noticed. I smiled every time I felt her chest expand with my scent in her lungs. But she’s not trying to hide it anymore. We’re… evolving. I guess that’s why I included her in my dinner plans. I didn’t want to spend the evening without her, and I didn’t want to lie about it.

“Everything,” she agrees with a shy smile. “Are we meeting them here at the resort?”

“No, my parents own a beach house near here. It’s about a twenty-minute drive up the coast.”

I grab Winter’s hand, and we walk toward the restaurant to meet our friends for lunch. We’re approaching being ten minutes late, which would normally have me ready to run six miles to blow off the anxiety of not being on time. But I don’t feel that way with Winter. I’m at ease. Everyone else can wait.

“By the way,” I whisper in her ear as we approach the hostess podium. “I’ve never brought a date home before, so my mother is going to go absolutely ape shit over you. Just be yourself, and I’ll curve the questions.”

“What?” she whisper-shouts.

“Hi!” The bubbly hostess cuts Winter off. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Our friends are already seated. Probably under Sondra Bose or Preston Bell…” I say and the hostess presses the screen of her iPad.

“Aleck, what am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even—”

“Of course, Sondra Bose’s table. Right this way…”

The hostess leads us into the main dining room. I smile in amusement, feeling Winter’s widened eyes drilling holes into the side of my face. I squeeze her hand tighter, fighting laughter.

When the fuck did I become so okay with this? She feels panicked because I’m bringing her to meet my parents one night after we’ve agreed to do this thing between us and she should be. This is a ridiculous idea. But I don’t give a shit. It’s just dinner. My parents will love her, and she’ll love the view of our place. Simple. No strings, I’ve convinced myself.

As we approach the round table with all our friends seated comfortably with coffees, juices, champagnes, croissants, and fruit littering the table, all eyes shift to Winter and me. Then they shift to our holding hands.

Maybe this is moving a little too fast…

“There they are!” Preston stands, his arms stretched wide, welcoming us. Reaching to shake my free hand from across the table.