I’d been nervous at dinner on my first night—which turned out to have been silly. But on Rachel’s first night with us, there was definitely a shift in the atmosphere. I’d panicked that I’d thrown it all off balance by becoming Noah’s girlfriend. But it wasn’t me who’d made things feel so different: it was Rachel. Tonight, it felt much more like I was going to dinner with everyone as Noah’s girlfriend—not as practically part of the family.

Rachel and I were both trying to fit in front of the mirror in the bathroom to do our hair and makeup. I put on the yellow sundress I’d brought, and threw on some gold jewelry too, at Rachel’s suggestion. I’d not thought to bring any with me, but she gushed about how pretty I looked in the dress and offered me a selection of necklaces to go with it.

The weirdness hit me again when we got ready to leave for the steakhouse and I made straight for the passenger side of Lee’s car.

“Oh,” he said. “Um.”

“What’s up?”

“Elle,” Noah called, “why don’t you come ride with us?”

I looked over at him, kind of baffled, because when had I ever not gone with Lee when the option was available? But then I noticed Rachel, clutching her purse and smiling awkwardly at me, and I got it. I brushed it off with an easy smile, saying, “Sure!”—but it didn’t stop me from feeling like a stone had settled in the pit of my stomach.

When we got to the steakhouse and were seated, I ended up next to Rachel, with the boys opposite us. June and Matthew sat on the end by Lee and Rachel, so they’d bear the brunt of the conversation. I was kind of glad. I still felt thrown by the whole situation with the cars earlier.

Even after we’d sat down, though, it was different. Noah’s leg was pressed against mine under the table, and every so often he’d reach across to do something like brush a strand of hair off my face or trace patterns on the back of my hand. He didn’t usually do stuff like that around his family. Neither of us did. Even when the food came, and conversation lulled, there were moments when I’d look up because I felt him watching me—and he’d have this warm, intense look in his bright blue eyes. I had to gaze back down at my plate, poking my food around with a fork, trying not to blush.

Tonight was different, but I tried to tell myself that didn’t have to be a bad thing. We were all having a good time. Everything was fine.

And everything was going fine, until we’d ordered dessert.