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I pout at the reminder that my daughter should be here, and isn’t. Stupid, annoying neighbors that want to ruin my life, as if ruining my sleep schedule isn’t enough.

“She’s with Caleb.” I put a hand up when I feel her mouth drop open. “It’s a story for another time. I’m too angry to tell it right now.”

Her hand comes up to my back and rubs a couple of soothing circles.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

I shrug, and then feel bad because it pushes her off of me.

“You didn’t have to move.”

She laughs.

“I know you weren’t shoving me off, but my back can’t take much more of that.”

She leans back a little, attempting to stretch it out. Miles instantly takes notice and steps behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and massaging.

I need that kind of devotion in my life. These shoulders have needed massaging for years now.

“Can we go back to the peanuts and cheese?”

“Not peanuts. Cashews,” he says.

“Aren’t they the same thing?” The laughter stops, and silence fills the kitchen. “What?”

“No,” Amelia says softly. “Peanuts are legumes, and cashews are nuts.”

“That only answers my second question.”

Or, technically, itwould.If I knew what a legume was.

“What do you think fake cheese is made out of?” Autumn asks.

I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

She walks over to the fridge, and her eyes scan the contents when she pulls it open.

“Aha! Here we go.” Turning it over in her hands so the ingredients face up, she brings it to me.

I scan the list and my eyes bulge.

“What the hell? It’s practically peanut butter.”

“Still not correct,” Miles says with a laugh. “Cashewbutter.”

“I’m never going to change,” I say. “I think I want the dairyfullcheese tonight.”

“You and me both,” Amelia says, and pats me on the shoulder. “And Sam. He’ll never get used to the other stuff.”

We all help ourselves to the pasta and bread, and settle at Amelia’s large dining table. We chat about lots of nothing: my parents renovations, Autumn’s current projects, Miles’ utterly hilarious patients at work. The sarcasm and wit in some of his stories is next level.

I love old people. I think I went into the wrong line of work.

Amelia’s finally moving her business into a bigger office, and it’s taking longer than she’d hoped. Her and Sam complain about the construction company they went through, and he lists off all the things he’d be doing differently if he had the time to take it on himself.

It’s all so natural, and I can’t help but feel a little awe when I’m in the middle of moments like these. The perfectly normal ones, where we really are just family. It doesn’t matter that I’m some random girl Autumn brought around that keeps showing up to these dinners. It doesn’t matter that Autumn had a complicated history with Amelia and her younger son. It doesn’t matter that Sam is the newest member of this table after deciding he wanted to marry Amelia after only a few months of knowing her.

It works. Your people are your people no matter how they got to be there.