“Nope. Harper.” I tried to joke.
The strong line of his jaw and the even harsher closed lips were not in the least amused at my attempt at humor.
I swallowed hard. “Nice to meet you, Nixon,” I said. “Nathan told me you’re an incredible running back for the…North Carolina team.” I cringed, cursing myself for blanking on the team name.
“I’m sure he did.”
Joanne eyed him. “You need a nap, boy?”
He blinked, shaking his head. “No ma’am.” He gave me a nod and disappeared around the corner.
I wrung my hands together, wondering how I’d managed to make Nixon not like me before he’d even met me.
“Smells amazing,” Nathan said, coming from the hallway. He slid his hand up my back. “Anything I can do for you, Ma?”
She waved him off and motioned her head toward where Nixon had left. “You can go talk to your brother about playing nice.”
A muscle in Nathan’s jaw ticked. “Already?”
Joanne glanced to me then back to Nathan, who rolled his eyes. He leaned down and planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Be right back.”
I flushed harder as he left, shocked he’d kissed me right in front of his mom. Not that it was like our normal kisses—this was chaste compared to what we usually did, but still. This family—they were so open and brutally honest with each other about who they were—it was refreshing and terrifying at the same time.
“Nixon has a good heart,” Joanne said, putting the final pan into the oven. She grabbed a rag and started cleaning. I hopped off the barstool and darted to the sink, starting on the dishes there.
“If he’s anything like Nathan then I know he does,” I said, scrubbing at a pot.
“He has harder edges,” she said. “But he’s good to his core. Sometimes his intentions are misplaced, but don’t judge him on that first encounter, please?”
I set the clean pot on the towel next to the sink. “No worries here,” I said. “Honestly, he was fine.”
“Nathan told me you were as kind as you were intelligent.”
I snorted, working on another dish. “I hope that’s true.”
Joanne came to my side and started drying and putting away the dishes as I cleaned, an easy silence filling the kitchen that smelled like a Norman Rockwell painting looked.
“I’ve never seen a more gorgeous woman in my life,” a deep, raspy voice said from behind us.
“I know,” Joanne said, nudging my side with her elbow. “Isn’t she a looker?”
My eyes widened, and I laughed nervously as a man in his fifties stalked across the kitchen, his dark brown eyes glued on Joanne. He didn’t so much as look at me as he scooped up Joanne and spun her around, kissing her neck.
Joanne giggled. “You’re a mess,” she said, her eyes shining as he set her on her feet.
“Missed you,” he said, kissing her quickly before turning to face me. “Nice to meet you, Harper,” he said. “Forgive me, but I always have to greet my lady first.”
I raised my eyebrows, waving him off. “Totally understandable.”
I’d never seen so much love in my life—not this kind. Hard earned from decades together, with time only strengthening and sharpening it into something that simply radiated from the couple.
I finished the dishes and reclaimed my seat at the kitchen island, content to get out of the way and watch the couple finish the last portions of their traditional Christmas dinner. The pair moved like they were completely aware of each other’s thoughts, a partnership where each complimented the other.
My parents loved each other, but they divided tasks and worked to their own strengths. And sometimes they behaved more like roommates than two people who had fallen for each other at some point. It was a practical pairing.
These two? They seemed like one unit, stronger together, and impossible to cleave apart.
It was beautiful.
And watching them, sitting in their warm home, filled with family and love and history, it suddenly occurred to me how much value relationships like these held.
Something I’d never thought about before.
Not before Nathan.
Before he’d reached out and taken my hand, anchoring me to the ground when my head had been in the clouds.
And the funny thing?
Nathan made the real world so much sweeter than any fantasy ever could be.
* * *
“How exhausted are you?” Nathan’s voice sounded from the doorway of his bedroom, and I spun around, having just changed into my pajamas.
“I’m running on about thirty percent.”
He sucked his teeth. “My family that tiring, huh?”
I shook my head, closing the distance between us. “Not at all,” I said, running my hands over his chest, gazing up at him. “I can’t remember a more perfect Christmas, Nathan. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He slid his fingers through my loose curls, lightly tracing his lips over mine. “Can you stand a bit more of it?”