It’s not unusual for my parents to invite James over for dinner. He’s been coming around for years, if for no other reason than to ease my mom’s conscience that he’s not starving on his bachelor diet of frozen pizza and Fanta. What is unusual is his bringing my girlfriend.

Not that my mom and Brian know about Meg and me. Or James, for that matter, though his eyes followed me when I dropped her off the other night, so he suspects something.

I’m sure Dani knows. She’s picked up on things at the café and the shop, but I don’t think she’s told anyone. Which is all making my attempt to play it cool while also inviting myself to dinner at my mom’s table very difficult.

I probably should have said something earlier. But with the impending probationary trial and wrapping up my search-and-rescue training with Cash … well. I’ve been preoccupied.

Plus, I didn’t want to put a label on things yet.

There’s also this whole thing that some more conservative Christian families do when their kids graduate high school, which is to try to marry them off before they can get into too much trouble. My mom mostly knows better than that. She married my dad right out of high school, and look how that turned out. But old habits run deep, and Christianity runs back a couple of thousand years. Sure, eighteen and nineteen are super young to get married, but what’s a few years when compared to premarital sex and underage drinking?

My parents are very different from Meg’s, and I would never compare the two situations. But in a few ways, they are the same. For a hot minute, I consider not joining them for dinner. It seems like asking for added pressure on an already-charged relationship.

But I can’t stay away, and I can’t bear the thought of leaving sweet Meg to deal with my family, so here I am, holding a store-bought apple pie in each hand and tapping the front door with the toe of my gym shoe.

One of the twins, Rachel, opens the door. “What are you doing here?” she asks, looking up from her phone with an appraising smirk.

“Dinner. I brought pies.” I shove the baked goods into her arms and hurry past her, leaving my shoes at the door next to Meg’s. James and Meg must have turned up while I was showering after my run.

“Mom?” I call out, heading straight for the kitchen, where I hear voices, abruptly stopping when I see Meg, head bent close to Lizzy’s. The two are giggling, thick as thieves, and suddenly, I feel like I should leave. A hand slaps me on the back, and I look up into the amused eyes of James.

“Good to see you, Micah.” I feel Meg’s eyes on me, but I don’t look.