Mrs. Norcross had cooked lasagna, and it had been delicious. Easton and his brothers liked giving each other a hard time in a fun, sibling way, with Gia getting in her fair share of digs as well.

Ethan and Clara Norcross were friendly, supportive, loving parents. As Harlow listened to the conversation, she stared at her red wine. She realized that while she loved her family, they didn’t have this type of connection.

Growing up, her father was often busy, or in meetings, and her mother was frequently in bed with a headache. Scarlett was younger than Harlow, and while Harlow adored her sister, they didn’t have loads in common.

“Hey.” Easton touched Harlow’s chin. He had one arm resting along the back of her chair. “Where did you go?”

“Just thinking. You have a great family, Easton.”

“Yes, when they aren’t driving me crazy.” She heard the affection in his voice. Vander called out to him and he turned away.

When she looked up, she found Mrs. Norcross watching her speculatively. Harlow swallowed.

Clara rose, lifting some plates. “Harlow, will you give me a hand in the kitchen?”

Uh-oh. She felt the inevitable interrogation coming on.

Harlow stacked some plates and took them into the bright-white kitchen. It had top-of-the-line appliances, and gorgeous, white-marble countertops.

“Your kitchen is lovely.”

Clara smiled. “Easton renovated it for me a few years back.”

“He loves you.”

“Yes, and he takes good care of those he loves. It’s in his blood. When he joined the Army, I wasn’t surprised. He wanted to serve his country and help other people.”

Harlow nodded.

“But going to war changed him.” The older woman’s dark eyes turned shadowed. “He rarely talks of it.”

“He’s told me a little. I see the darkness sometimes.”

Clara nodded. “He fights it back, but sometimes he’s too hard on himself.”

Harlow smiled. “You mean he’s a workaholic who can’t stop and relax.”

“Yes.”

They shared a smile of understanding.

“My Easton needs someone who brings him sunshine and joy, but who can handle the dark.”

Harlow’s belly churned. All she’d brought him was headaches. “I agree. He needs someone like that.”

Clara arched a brow. “You talk like that isn’t you.”

Harlow pulled in a breath, fighting to keep a hold on her emotions. “We both know it isn’t. Easton deserves the best, and it isn’t me. I’m not bringing him calm and happiness, I’m bringing him stress and problems. I’m not good enough for him.”

Easton stalked into the kitchen, his face angry and his gaze on Harlow. “That’s bullshit.”

She held up her hand. “Easton—”

He grabbed her arms. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that about yourself again. You don’t think you bring me calm and happiness?”