“It’s delicious, Mr. Grimes. I could never cook something like this. Well, I’m sure I can, but I’ll be honest, I’m a much better baker than a cook.”

His interest piqued, Vic slightly leans in. “You enjoy baking?”

“Do I?” I hysterically retort. “I love baking! Now, I’m no trained professional like you, Chef Grimes, but I can bake a mean sweet potato pie. They’ve won first place in the Beverly Mills Bake-off for two years in a row. I bet you’ll love my pies.”

Vic’s gaze intensifies, sparking a flutter in my chest. “I bet I will.” He replies, a playful edge to his voice.

Flustered by our exchange, I find myself blushing and subconsciously tucking a stray curl behind my ear. His presence has a way of making every other distraction fade away, leaving just the two of us in a bubble of our own until Ari’s gleeful interjection snaps us back to reality.

“Ms. Kind, when you move in, you won’t have to worry about cooking. Dad handles that. You two could tag team! Dad will cook dinner, and you’ll bake.” She suggests with a hopeful grin.

I smile, amused by her forwardness. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is still just an interview, remember?” I gently remind them.

The girls sigh in unison, their voices tinged with disappointment. “Yeah, we know.”

Then, Vic breaks their lull, offering his daughters a hint of reassurance, “The best interview ever, if you ask me.”

Their faces instantly brighten, and their smiles spread with infectious joy. My heart flutters slightly, warmed by his unexpected affirmation. Pretending not to notice, I focus on my plate, but I can’t ignore Ms. Tina’s soft ‘aww’ filling the room or Vic’s steady gaze that tenderly holds mine from across the table, wrapping the moment in an unspoken connection that feels both unexpected and just right.

But suddenly, Ms. Vicky interjects with a reminder, her tone shifting the conversation to more pressing matters. “Son, your schedule’s about to get hectic. Your PR team has gone all out for your re-introduction into society. You have public appearances, award shows, the business dinner with the City Manager, the showrunner party. And, oh yeah—”

Vic waves a hand dismissively, attempting to maintain the casual atmosphere. “Mom, no business talk at the table, please.”

Vicky isn’t deterred.