I enter Katie’s house warily, arming myself with a bottle of wine, a smile, and Molly tugging on her leash. Brenna scowls at me from where she stands in the corner of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she can ward me off. She’s going to be the hardest one to thaw.

Katie gives me a kiss on the cheek in greeting and takes the wine bottle from me. Katie’s mother approaches me with a tentative smile, kneeling down to pet Molly, speaking to her much like Katie does.

“Aw, such a pretty, pretty dog. Katherine’s told me about you.” She strokes Molly’s head, and Molly settles her chin on Elizabeth Watts’s knee. “Aw, aren’t you sweet?”

“Mom.” Katie clears her throat, shooting me a nervous smile. “I want you two to officially meet.” I hope like hell she’s referring to me and not the dog.

Her mother rises to her full height, smiling warmly at me and holding out her hand. “Elizabeth Watts. But you can call me Liz.”

I take her hand and give it a quick shake. “Nice to meet you.”

She’s still shaking my hand, apprehension suddenly appearing in her gaze. “And um, what shall I call you?”

I glance in Katie’s direction and see she’s a little deer-in-the-headlights herself. I didn’t even think of this. Katie’s been switching between names, though I’ve noticed lately she doesn’t call me anything at all. And that’s because she prefers Will.

Fuck it, I’ll run with it. It goes against everything I stood for only months ago, but I want to make Katie happy. And though it’ll be difficult, once I say it, there’s no going back. At least not with her family. Maybe I need to embrace my former self. Katie doesn’t think he’s bad. I’m the one with the problem.

“You can call me Will,” I tell Liz firmly as she releases my hand, blinking at me like maybe I said the wrong thing.

I really freaking hope I didn’t say the wrong thing.

“And you’ve already met my sister, Brenna.” Katie breezes right over that, not that I can blame her. She smiles brightly at both her mom and me. “Are you hungry? Dinner is just about ready.”

I follow her into the kitchen, leaving Molly with her mom and sister, and the moment we’re out of sight I pull her into my arms and kiss her. “Did I mess that up?”

“Of course not.” She shakes her head, a little breathless. I kiss her again because I like hearing her sound that way. She pushes at my chest to gain some distance. “It’s going to take a while to win them both over, I guess. Though Mom likes Molly.”

“Who doesn’t like Molly? That would be a crime.” I push a strand of hair behind her ear, unable to stop touching her. “Do you need help with anything?”

Katie shakes her head, disentangling herself from my embrace and going to the oven. She peeks inside and then hits a couple of buttons, turning it off. “Dinner really is almost ready. If you want to get yourself something to drink, that would be great.”

I go to the fridge and grab a water bottle. I’ll save the wine for actual dinner. “You made a pie?”

“My mom did. She’s an amazing baker. I think it’s pumpkin.”

“Thanksgiving a little early, huh?” I take a drink, the water soothing my dry throat.

“Well, I’m pretty thankful that we’re able to have this dinner together in a civil manner,” Katie says, making me laugh.

Unable to hold back, I go to her again, waiting until she sets the baking dish on the stovetop and shuts the oven door before I slip my arms around her waist and hug her from behind. “Don’t worry. This will all work out.”

“If I only had half your confidence,” she says with a sigh, leaning her head against my chest for a too-brief moment before she pulls away and starts her dinner prep in earnest.

I’m faking my confidence. I’m worried this dinner could go down in flames if I don’t watch it. I plan on being on my best behavior tonight, and I have a feeling Katie’s mother will be fine. Polite, though she’ll search for a reason to dislike me. I refuse to give her one.

Brenna we can’t count on. She’s a loose cannon. A really pissed-off one, too, by the expression on her face when I first walked in. I’ll have to be careful around her. I need this to work.

I need them to like me.

“So, Will.” Liz smiles at me and I do my best not to wince at her calling me Will. I’m still not used to it. The only reason I offered up the name was to please Katie. “Tell me exactly what you do for a living.”

We’ve finished our salads and Katie’s brought out the various dishes that make up the main course. She’s on top of her game tonight, playing the perfect hostess and doing a damn good job of it. I had no idea she had it in her. But there are still so many things for me to learn about Katie.

“Well, I’m a Web designer.” I launch into my story, about how my friend was in a band and they wanted a website, but their designer ditched them at the last minute so I stepped in. “I’d been messing around with graphics and design all through high school and took a few courses in community college.” Only the courses that interested me—otherwise, I hated going to college. I had financial aid and could pretty much take any course for free, accompanied by a few minor fees. But ultimately I bailed once my Web design business started to pick up.

“Did you graduate college?” Liz asks as she spoons some rice onto her plate.

I shake my head. “I took a few courses at my local JC, but otherwise, no. Most of what I learned was self-taught.”

“Quite enterprising, aren’t you?” She smiles, her gaze going to Katie as she nods. “She’s taking courses currently. Online, though I wish she would go to an actual campus. It might be good for her, to meet new people, make new friends.”

I can’t quite tell if that’s a dig or her just making conversation. “Katie needs to do whatever she thinks is best for her.”

“Mom, don’t push,” Katie says as she reaches for her wineglass and takes a big swallow.

“And do you believe you’re the one who knows what’s best for Katie?” Brenna pipes up. She’s been mostly quiet, drinking lots of wine and glaring at me from her spot at the other end of the table. “Or is that up to our mother, who’s been watching out for her, oh, you know—her entire life?”

Here it is. Brenna’s hostility is back in action. “She’s a grown woman. I think she can make decisions for herself.”

Brenna snorts and Liz eases right over it, changing the subject and talking about some social ladies’ club she’s a part of, telling stories about how they’re donating their time around town and doing good deeds.

I tune out, eating my dinner, tossing the occasional small bite of chicken to Molly, who rests at my feet. No one’s paying me any attention and that’s fine with me, because that means I don’t have to make painful conversation or ward off Brenna’s biting commentary. She’s quiet, too, staring into her never-empty wineglass, muttering responses whenever Katie or Liz acknowledges her.

Something’s up with her, and I don’t believe it has to do with just me.

“So, Brenna.” Katie smiles at her sister as she sets her fork down on her mostly empty plate. “What’s new with you?”

Brenna’s shoulders tense and the smile on her face is completely over the top. “Oh, you know, I’ve just turned into a big loser and moved back in with Mom.”

“Brenna,” Liz starts, but Brenna waves a hand and laughs, though there’s no humor in the sound.

“May as well tell her the truth, Mom. She’ll find out eventually.” Her laughter dies. “Mike broke up with me.”

Liz’s mouth drops open. “I thought you broke up with him.”

Brenna shakes her head. “He was tired of dealing with my bullshit—direct quote. Said I have too many hang-ups about sex and marriage.”

I remain quiet while Liz and Katie gasp in unison. Looks like too much wine makes Brenna overshare.

“Though he’s not too off the mark,” Brenna continues. “Our screwed-up family focuses so much on Katherine’s problems, no one has ever given mine a second thought.”

“Brenna, please,” Liz starts, but Brenna barrels right over her.

“I’m in therapy and it’s going surprisingly well. I can see why you keep going, Katherine.” Brenna drains her wineglass and sets it onto the table with a loud thump. “I stuck it out too long with Mike. Our relationship has been dying a slow, boring death. We grew apart. End of story. No dramatic ending; no tragic event happened to split us up. Unfortunately, I don’t have a romantic, star-crossed, forbidden love story like you two.” She points at Katie and me.

We exchange glances. “Romantic, star-crossed, forbidden love story” isn’t what I would call us, but everyone has their own interpretation.

Including Katie’s sister.