“Yeah.” I scratch at my wet hair. “I was hungry.” I don’t know why I’m explaining myself. I live here. Sort of.

“Well, I’m happy to see you, sweetheart,” my mom says, kissing my cheek. “Hm,” she says. “You smell nice.”

“Just soap,” I insist, probably sounding defensive. “I showered after my run.”

“And he brought dessert,” Rachel says, placing my offerings on the island.

My mom raises her eyebrows. “Really? Well, that’s great. Full house tonight. Micah, have you met James’s niece, Meg?”

“Yeah,” I say, finally looking her way. Meg’s cheeks are pink, but her eyes are laughing at me. “Meg works at the coffee shop next door.”

“And you two are dating, so there’s that,” Brian says, entering the room.

I nod slowly. “And that. Yeah.” I glance at Meg. “Sorry. I didn’t want—”

“To out us to your entire family in one fell swoop?” Meg laughs, shaking her head, her black hair down, her magenta stripes bold and fun. Just like her.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you were ready for all that.”

She shrugs, pink under the attention of everyone’s eyes watching us. “Uncle James didn’t know we hadn’t told anyone,” she says simply.

“Ah,” I say. James looks a little sheepish, and I punch his shoulder lightly. “It’s cool. I was going to tell them tonight anyway.” Probably. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Meg Hennessey.”

“Meg.” I turn back to her, wave a hand expansively, and take in a calming breath. “This is my family.”

Dinner is mostly fine. No one mentions a dowry or asks for Meg’s testimony of how she came to be a child of Christ or anything, so we have that going for us. And only my sisters give me shit for the pies.

“Weird how you just happened to have these pies lying around, Micah,” Rachel says as my mom pulls them out of the oven and starts slicing them into equal pieces to distribute.

“He was saving them for a rainy day, obviously,” pipes up Evie.

“Neither of you need to have any, if it’s an issue,” I say. Rachel mimes zipping up her lips. Evie’s slice is already in front of her, and she pointedly takes an enthusiastic bite.

“Apple pie is my favorite,” Meg says softly from next to me.

“It is?” I ask.

“Yep. So, thank you.”

“Mine, too, not that it matters,” says James dryly.

“I prefer pumpkin, if you’re taking requests for next time,” says Brian, looking far too pleased with himself.

“I’m not.”

After the pies are demolished, Brian and James offer to take the younger half of the family outside to play a game of H-O-R-S-E in the driveway. I get up to join them, when my mom clears her throat. “Micah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Mind staying back a few minutes?”