Chapter 133 Family Dinner
Chapter 133 Family Dinner
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charlie
The two-hour drive to my parents’ house feels like a descent into an unknown abyss.
Every nerve in my body is firing, a frantic rhythm of anxiety and exhilaration that has my palms damp against the steering wheel. I keep adjusting my grip as if holding it differently might settle something inside me.
It doesn’t.
Cade sits beside me, a statue of tension in the passenger seat.
He has barely moved for the past twenty minutes. His hands rest on his knees, fingers curled tightly into the dark fabric of his pants, while his gaze remains fixed on the highway stretching ahead of us.
He’s three months pregnant now.
Three months.
The fact is still surreal, terrifying, and so wonderful that sometimes I can’t think about it for too long without feeling like my chest might split open.
There is a small curve beneath Cade’s dark sweater now. Subtle enough that no one would notice unless they knew to look, but I’m acutely aware of it.
Of him.
Of them.
Our child.
The thought makes my heart stumble.
“Breathe,” I say softly.
My voice sounds too loud inside the quiet car.
“You’re going to pass out if you keep that up.”
Cade releases a shaky, humorless laugh. His fingers loosen for a second before tightening again.
“Easy for you to say.”
“It really isn’t.”
“You’re not the one about to announce to your entire family that you’re pregnant.”
“No, I’m the one about to announce that I got you pregnant.”
He turns his head slowly.
“That isn’t better.”
“I know. I heard it after I said it.”
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitches.
I’ll take it.
He looks back through the windshield, watching trees and snowbanks rush past us in a blur of gray, white, and deep winter green.
“They already know me,” he says after a while.
“I’m aware.”
“That makes it worse.”
I glance at him.
“How does that make it worse?”
“If they were strangers, I could make a first impression.”
“You’ve already made one.”
“Exactly.”
I fight a smile.
“You’re worried they’ve had enough time to discover what you’re actually like?”
His head snaps toward me.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re kind, stubborn, overprotective, terrible at accepting help, and secretly sentimental.”
“I am not secretly sentimental.”
“You cried during that commercial last week.”
“It was about an elderly dog.”
“So you admit you cried.”
“The dog had arthritis, Charlie.”
“I know. I was there.”
“And then its owner built it a ramp.”
“I remember.”
“It was moving.”
“It was an advertisement for pet insurance.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t moving.”
I laugh, and for a few precious seconds, the tightness around Cade’s eyes softens.
Then he places a hand over the slight swell beneath his sweater.
The gesture is instinctive.
Protective.
My laughter fades.
“What if they think this is too fast?” he asks.
“They won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know my family.”
“And your father?”
There it is.
The question beneath every shirt change, every nervous glance, every restless shift during the drive.
Chase.
My father has never been cruel to Cade. He has always treated him with respect, listened when Cade spoke, and made space for him at the table whenever our paths crossed.
But Chase is observant.
Quietly protective.
He is the kind of man who can sit through an entire conversation without saying much, only to ask one question at the end that proves he noticed everything.
Cade knows that too.
“He might have questions,” I admit.
Cade gives me a flat look.
“That’s reassuring.”
“He won’t attack you.”
“I didn’t think he would.”
“He’ll want to know I’m sure.”
Cade stares ahead for several seconds.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it, he asks, “Are you?”
The question lands gently.
Its weight does not.
I take the next exit, following the familiar route toward the town where I grew up. When the road straightens, I reach across the center console and place my hand over his.
His fingers are cold.
“Yes.”
He looks at me.
“Even with everything?”
“Especially with everything.”
The bond hums where our skin meets, a warm current running through my palm and up my arm. Cade’s cinnamon-and-vanilla scent deepens inside the car, softened by nerves and something more vulnerable.
“We’re not going there to defend ourselves,” I tell him. “We’re sharing good news with people who love us.”
“And if it doesn’t feel like good news to everyone?”
“Then they’ll have time to catch up.”
His expression changes, some fragile emotion moving through his eyes.
“You make everything sound simple.”
“No.” I lift his hand and brush my lips across his knuckles. “I just know what matters.”
His throat moves as he swallows.
“Which is?”
“You. The baby. The life we’re building.”
His fingers curl more securely around mine.
Outside, the last traces of winter have given way to early spring. Bare branches are beginning to show tiny green buds, and patches of yellow daffodils brighten the roadsides as we drive. The afternoon sun slips in and out of drifting clouds, warming the windshield just enough that I crack my window for fresh air.
“I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs.
“You should.”
I keep hold of his hand until I have to turn onto my parents’ street.
The familiar two-story house comes into view at the end of the block, surrounded by fresh green grass just beginning to reclaim the yard after winter. Flower beds Liam insisted on planting every year are dotted with tulips and daffodils, and the maple tree out front has begun to fill with pale green leaves. Warm light spills from the windows, making the whole house look as welcoming as ever.
Tonight, it looks less like the home I grew up in and more like a fortress.
The driveway is already full.
Jordan’s car is parked near the garage. Patrick’s sedan sits behind it. Lottie’s Lexus is angled near the street, still new-looking despite the fingerprints Camellia leaves on nearly every surface she can reach.
They’re all here.
Our support system.
Our audience.
Possibly our jury.
I pull in behind Lottie and cut the engine.
The sudden silence is deafening.
“Ready?” I ask.
Cade closes his eyes and takes one slow breath. Then another.
“No.”
“Same.”
He opens his eyes.
“But let’s get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit.”
He reaches for the door handle.
“You can still back out.”
Cade turns toward me.
“Stop giving me opportunities.”
I grin.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The warning lacks conviction.
We step into cool spring air carrying the scent of damp earth and newly blooming flowers. A light breeze stirs through the trees as we walk up the front path, the afternoon sun lingering just above the rooftops.
Before we reach the first step, the front door swings open.
Liam stands there in an apron over a soft green sweater, his face breaking into a wide smile.
“There they are! We were starting to think you’d gotten lost and we’d have to send out a search party.”
“We’re six minutes late,” I point out.
“Six minutes is enough time to drive into a ditch.”
“Good to see you too, Mom.”
He hugs me first, then turns immediately toward Cade.
His embrace is warm and familiar, but when he draws back, his gaze moves between our faces.
The smile falters slightly.
“Everything okay? You both look like you’re heading to an execution.”
“Traffic was bad,” I say.
Liam gives me a long, knowing look.
The roads were almost empty, and we all know it.
Thankfully, he lets the lie pass.
“Well, come inside before everyone starts without you."
Warm air wraps around us the moment we cross the threshold.
The house smells like roasted chicken, rosemary potatoes, fresh bread, and the apple pie Liam undoubtedly started making before breakfast.
Home.
The scent settles something inside me.
The living room is alive with overlapping voices.
Lottie sits on the sofa with one leg tucked beneath her, her hands moving animatedly while she tells Patrick a story. My twin’s scent carries her amusement, bright and energetic, while Patrick listens with his usual calm patience.
Camellia is on the rug at their feet, stacking wooden blocks into a crooked tower.
Jordan stands near the dining room, helping Chase unfold an extra table. Their laughter reaches us before either of them looks up.
Luca appears first.
“Charlie!”
He barrels across the room, then stops when he notices Cade.
“Hey.”
“Hey, menace.”
“I’m not a menace.”
“You sent me twelve videos yesterday.”
“They were educational.”
“They were cats knocking things off shelves.”
“Exactly.”
Lily passes behind him carrying a stack of plates.
“He’s been defending those videos all day.”
“Because nobody appreciates culture,” Luca says.
Lottie looks over from the couch.
“There’s the man of the hour.”
My heart nearly stops.
She knows.
Patrick knows.
Jordan knows.
But the rest of the room doesn’t.
Lottie seems to realize how suspicious her words sound and quickly adds, “You were supposed to help Dad with the table.”
“I just got here.”
“Excuses.”
She stands and hugs me, squeezing hard enough to make me grunt. When she releases me, she gives Cade’s arm an affectionate squeeze.
Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears and conspiratorial excitement.
She and Patrick were the first people we told after Jordan.
Lottie’s reaction had been immediate. Joyful tears, a hug that nearly cracked my ribs, and plans for a baby shower that already sounded more elaborate than a royal wedding.
Patrick had simply congratulated us, his quiet sincerity more reassuring than any grand declaration could have been.
Camellia notices me and abandons her blocks.
“Char!”
She reaches both arms toward me.
“Hello to you too.”
I lift her, and she immediately grabs a fistful of my hair.
“Ow.”
Lottie smiles sweetly.
“She missed you.”
“She has an aggressive way of showing affection.”
Camellia giggles and tugs harder.
Cade laughs beside me.
The nervous sharpness in his scent softens.
Liam notices, of course.
Liam notices everything.
He asks Cade about work, then whether the drive went smoothly. Nothing unusual. Nothing that places him under a spotlight.
It helps.
By the time everyone gathers around the extended dining table, Cade is smiling naturally again.
At least until the food arrives.
The table groans beneath the weight of it.
Roasted chicken.
Rosemary potatoes.
Honey-glazed carrots.
Green beans.
Fresh rolls.
A large salad.
Enough food to feed twice as many people.
Every dish looks perfect.
Cade takes one bite of potato and goes still.
I notice immediately.
The fork lowers toward his plate, and his free hand disappears into his lap.
Liam notices too.
“Are you feeling all right?”
The conversations around the table pause.
Cade looks up.
“I’m fine.”
I nearly laugh.
Across from us, Lottie lifts one eyebrow.
Even she knows what that answer means.
Liam’s expression softens.
“You look a little pale.”
“It’s been a long week.”
“That isn’t an answer,” Lily says.
Cade glances toward me.
I reach beneath the table and find his hand.
His fingers are cool.
I squeeze once.
Not a command.
Not pressure.
Only reassurance.
He lets out a careful breath.
“I’m okay,” he says, with a little more honesty this time. “My stomach is unsettled.”
Liam starts to rise.
“I can make you something plain.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Mom,” I say gently. “Sit down.”
He looks at me.
“We brought crackers.”
Luca stares at us.
“You brought crackers to dinner?”
Cade’s cheeks turn pink.
“My stomach has become unpredictable.”
“That sounds ominous,” Lily says.
“Please don’t interrogate him.”
“I asked one question.”
“You’re already planning six more.”
She smiles without shame.
Beneath the table, Cade squeezes my fingers.
I squeeze back.
Conversation gradually resumes.
I keep an eye on him while everyone talks about work, school, Camellia’s new habit of hiding objects inside shoes, and Luca’s increasingly creative excuses for not cleaning his room.
Jordan and Patrick start debating an obscure historical fact, dragging Cade into the discussion. Within minutes, Cade is correcting both of them, his posture easing as he forgets to be nervous.
For a moment, I let myself believe the announcement will be easy.
He manages half a roll and a few bites of potato.
It isn’t much, but it stays down.
When Liam offers pie, Cade declines so quickly that half the table looks at him again.
I decide waiting any longer will only make things worse.
Once the plates have been cleared and everyone settles in the living room, I stand near the fireplace.
My stomach feels as though I swallowed a flock of birds.
Cade sits on the couch beside Lottie, but his attention stays fixed on me.
These people taught me how to ride a bike.
They helped with school projects, sat through painfully awkward teenage phases, celebrated graduations, and stood beside me through every milestone.
Still, the words feel enormous.
I tap the side of my water glass with a spoon.
The room quiets.
“Uh, hi.”
Luca snorts.
“Great start.”
“Be quiet.”
He mimes zipping his lips.
I clear my throat.
“There’s something we’d like to tell everyone.”
Lottie looks between us as though she hasn’t been waiting for this exact moment all evening.
Lily leans forward.
Luca sets down the spoon he has been trying to balance on his nose.
Even Camellia stops babbling.
Cade rises from the couch.
The instant he reaches my side, his hand finds mine.
Instinctively.
Naturally.
I lace our fingers together.
His scent trembles around me, sweet cinnamon threaded with nerves.
I look at him.
He gives me a small nod.
“As most of you know, Cade and I have been figuring things out together.”
My father’s expression remains carefully neutral.
“And somewhere in the process of figuring things out, our lives changed a little faster than we expected.”
I pause.
There is no clever way to say it.
No perfect arrangement of words that could contain everything this means.
So I just tell them the truth.
“Cade’s pregnant.”
Silence.
Complete, stunned silence.
Three seconds at most.
It feels like an eternity.
Lottie reacts first, despite already knowing.
Her performance is terrible.
“Wait…really?”
Cade looks at her.
The suspicion in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what she’s doing.
Still, he nods.
“Really.”
Lottie abandons the act entirely.
“Oh, my God.”
Liam’s eyes fill instantly.
He presses one hand over his mouth and crosses the room before anyone else can move.
He wraps Cade in an embrace so enthusiastic that Cade stumbles back half a step.
“A baby,” Liam says, already crying. “Oh, Cade. Congratulations.”
Cade freezes briefly before returning the hug.
His eyes close.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
The relief in his voice nearly undoes me.
Liam pulls back only far enough to hold Cade by the shoulders.
“How far along are you?”
“Three months.”
“And you’ve seen the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Nauseous.”
“Do you need anything? I’m making you soup tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m making soup.”
“He’s making soup,” I tell Cade.
Liam turns toward me.
“And you’re picking it up.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“We heard the heartbeat,” I add.
That makes him cry harder.
Lottie joins him, even though she has already cried over this news at least twice.
“I am not crying,” she insists, wiping beneath her eyes.
“You definitely are,” Lily tells her.
Luca looks fascinated.
“So there’s actually a baby?”
Cade laughs softly.
“That is generally what pregnant means.”
“I know, but…a real one?”
“No,” I say. “We’re having an imaginary baby.”
Luca throws a cushion at me.
Everyone laughs, and the tension breaks all at once.
Lily launches into the questions she has been holding back.
“When are you due?”
“Are you finding out the sex?”
“Have you started a registry?”
“Do you need a crib?”
“Have you chosen names?”
“Lily,” Chase says calmly.
She stops.
“For now,” she mutters.
Lottie hugs me so tightly I nearly lose my balance.
“You’re going to be a dad.”
“I know.”
Her expression softens.
“Are you terrified?”
“Completely.”
“Good.”
I stare at her.
“Good?”
“It means you understand the responsibility.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“You’ll be amazing.”
Patrick steps forward next, shaking my hand before pulling me into a brief hug.
Jordan stays close to Cade, his expression proud and more emotional than he will ever admit.
Camellia wanders over and pats Cade’s stomach.
There is barely anything to feel, but she leaves her small palm there as though she understands.
Cade looks down at her.
His eyes shine.
Around us, everyone talks at once.
Liam is already planning meals Cade might tolerate.
Luca wants to know whether the baby can hear jokes.
Lily begins listing supposedly essential purchases.
Lottie starts a group chat before anyone can stop her.
I glance toward my father.
Chase remains in his armchair.
Quiet.
Thoughtful.
He smiles when Cade looks at him, but I can see him processing the news.
Not disapproving.
Assessing.
Exactly as I expected.
Eventually, he stands.
The room quiets again.
He crosses toward Cade and stops in front of him.
For one terrible second, my heart pounds hard enough to hurt.
“Congratulations,” Chase says.
His tone is measured but not cold.
“That’s unexpected news.”
Cade holds his gaze.
“Thank you, Chase.”
My father turns toward me.
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you ready for this? Fatherhood changes everything.”
“I know.”
“Knowing and understanding aren’t always the same.”
I straighten.
“I’m ready.”
His eyes search mine.
“We’re ready.”
Chase studies me for a long moment.
Then he nods.
“Good.”
He looks at Cade.
“You’re already a good father. I have no doubt you’ll be one again.”
Cade’s expression crumples for half a second before he regains control.
“Thank you.”
Relief moves through me so powerfully I almost have to sit down.
Liam claps his hands.
“Celebration is in order. We need sparkling cider, and I’m starting the baby-shower group chat tonight.”
“There’s already a group chat,” Lottie admits.
Liam looks offended.
“Without me?”
“It was preliminary.”
“I raised you better than that.”
The room erupts into another wave of laughter.
Later, I help carry dishes into the kitchen.
Lottie and Lily follow, arguing about whether the baby will look more like Cade or me. Luca trails behind them, stealing pieces of pie whenever he thinks Liam isn’t looking.
Jordan and Patrick begin folding the extra chairs.
Cade remains in the living room.
So does Chase.
I pause near the doorway.
My father sits in his armchair, forearms resting on his knees. Cade occupies one end of the couch, hands clasped tightly in front of him.
Their voices are low.
I can’t make out every word.
I consider returning to the room.
Then Cade looks toward me.
I silently ask whether he needs me.
He gives the smallest shake of his head.
I trust him, though leaving takes effort.
In the kitchen, I rinse plates while keeping one ear tilted toward the living room.
Liam bumps his shoulder against mine.
“Stop hovering.”
“I’m washing dishes.”
“You’re holding the same plate under the water.”
I look down.
He’s right.
“I’m not hovering.”
“You’re attempting to hover from another room.”
Lottie laughs.
“He does that.”
I hand the plate to Liam.
“What do you think they’re talking about?”
“My guess?” Liam asks.
“Yes.”
“You.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I dry my hands.
Before I can surrender to the urge to check on them, my father’s voice carries faintly through the doorway.
“Can I ask you something?”
Cade replies, but I miss the first few words.
Then I hear him clearly.
“It’s the age difference.”
The kitchen seems to quiet around me, though the others continue moving.
Chase answers too softly for me to make out.
A pause follows.
Then Cade speaks again.
“Talk to fate. It’s the one who decided someone as young as Charlie was meant for me.”
My hand tightens around the dish towel.
“I never expected any of this,” Cade continues. “I never looked at him that way before we got together. He was my son’s friend.”
Silence.
“But somewhere along the way, he became the man I fell in love with.”
The words stop everything inside me.
Cade has told me he wants me.
He has told me he wants our baby and the life we are building.
But hearing him say he fell in love with me—unguarded, without knowing I can hear him—lands somewhere deeper.
“I didn’t expect it,” he says. “I fought it. I still wake up some mornings wondering how I got so lucky.”
My throat tightens.
Liam touches my arm.
I can’t look at him.
“He’s patient with me when I don’t deserve it,” Cade continues. “He notices what I need before I know how to ask. He never makes me feel weak for leaning on him.”
My father says something I can’t catch.
“He’s trying to change that,” Cade answers. “And I’m trying to let him.”
Another stretch of silence passes.
Then Chase speaks loudly enough for me to hear.
“He looks at you the same way I look at Liam.”
I glance toward my mother.
His eyes are shining.
“That’s all I needed to know,” Chase adds.
Something in my chest loosens.
I wait another minute before filling two mugs with tea and returning to the living room.
Cade looks calmer.
My father accepts one of the mugs from me.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Chase settles back in his chair.
“Everything’s fine.”
I look at Cade.
He smiles.
For once, the word is true.
I sit beside him, close enough for our knees to touch, and place my hand over his.
Liam calls from the kitchen that he is packing food for Cade, whether Cade likes it or not. Lily shouts a question about possible nursery colors. Luca announces that he intends to teach the baby “important train facts,” which sounds vaguely threatening.
Lottie returns carrying a sleepy Camellia against her shoulder.
The house hums around us.
“You okay?” I murmur.
Cade looks across the room.
At the people already planning for a child they haven’t met.
At Liam wiping away tears while pretending he isn’t emotional.
At Chase, who accepted us because he recognized the love between us.
Then Cade looks at me.
“I’m good.”
“Actually good?”
“Actually.”
He rests his head against my shoulder.
His weight settles into me completely, without hesitation.
I press a kiss to his temple.
Across the room, Liam notices and smiles.
Cade places one hand over his stomach.
Our baby is still impossibly small, though the gentle curve beneath Cade's lightweight sweater is becoming harder to ignore. Three months ago everything around us had felt frozen in uncertainty. Now, as spring settles over the world outside these windows, it feels like everything is finally beginning to grow.
Everyone has shifted closer.
Love has made space before our baby has even arrived.
I wrap my arm around Cade and feel him relax against me.
He lets me hold him without apologizing.
Without insisting that he can manage alone.
I look around at the loud, chaotic family surrounding us and understand that tonight was never a trial.
There was no jury.
No sentence waiting to be handed down.
Only people who love us, adjusting their vision of the future so they can make room for ours.
Cade’s fingers slip between mine.
I hold on.
The life we’re building may not be simple.
It may not resemble anything either of us once imagined.
But as Cade rests safely against my side and our family argues over baby names, nursery furniture, and who will be allowed to babysit first, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
It’s ours.
And it’s right.