“Hey, sorry I took so long,” she said, stepping inside and giving me a quick kiss.

  “If you’re five minutes early, you’re late!” I grunted, using one of Kate’s expressions.

  She laughed. “Sorry! I had to stop by the adventure park first.”

  As we walked toward the dining room, Sofia introduced her son to Kate, and he responded with the characteristic politeness that was giving me a lot of confidence in Sofia’s parenting skills.

  Kate also showed a lot of poise. “Congratulations on your engagement,” she said with a glowing smile. “Your mom told us all about Elena.”

  Despite the smooth introductions, Miguel became very quiet as his mom bustled around, getting things ready and making drinks for everyone.

  His face was mostly expressionless, but once in a while I saw a moody look in his eyes.

  “Should we open my wine?” Kate asked, holding up the bottle. “I brought it to celebrate, but I probably shouldn't have any myself.”

  “Celebrate what?” Miguel murmured. It was the first thing he’d said in a while. He’d been sitting in a chair, watching quietly.

  Kate’s face lit up with excitement. She looked around at all of us. “Well, since we’re all here together…Now seems like a good time to tell you.” She paused dramatically. “I’m pregnant too.”

  The silence that followed was electric.

  Sofia’s hands flew to her mouth, Caroline gasped with delight, and I felt a surge of pride and joy.

  Miguel just stared.

  “Two babies!” Sofia shrieked, launching herself at Kate for a hug. “Ryan, you are so—”

  She caught herself, glancing at her son, but the damage was done. Miguel’s eyes moved between Kate’s glowing face, Caroline’s baby bump, and me, standing there like a sultan.

  When his gaze finally settled on me, there was no mistaking the fire in it.

  But I only noticed it peripherally. I was riding the wave of joy that came with this amazing news.

  We all were — Sofia switching between English and rapid Spanish, Caroline wiping away happy tears, Kate talking about how she’d always liked the name Oswald.

  “Two babies,” Caroline was saying, her hand on Kate’s arm. “And they’ll be siblings!”

  “Half-siblings,” Miguel said, perhaps louder than he meant to, because he looked slightly surprised when everyone looked at him.

  But he didn’t back down. His dark eyes moved between the three women, then settled on me with unmistakable hostility.

  Sofia clapped her hands together. “We need to toast! Miguel, get the good glasses from the cabinet.”

  Miguel moved mechanically to retrieve the glasses, his movements sharp and controlled. When he set them on the table, his hands weren’t entirely steady.

  “Miguel?” Sofia’s voice was gentle. “Qué pasa, mijo? You should be happy—”

  “I am happy, Mami,” he said quietly, but his eyes were fixed on me. “It’s just... a lot to accept.”

  The room fell silent. Kate shifted uncomfortably, Caroline’s hand moved protectively to her bump, and Sofia looked between her son and me with growing concern.

  “Miguel,” I started, but he held up a hand.

  “Two children,” he said, his voice still quiet but carrying an edge that made everyone freeze. “Different mothers... same father... in my mother’s house…”

  “Miguel!” Sofia’s voice was sharp with warning.

  But he wasn’t done. “And he’s young enough to be my mother’s son.” His laugh was bitter. “I guess two sons weren’t enough.”

  “Miguel!” Sofia’s voice cracked like a whip. She straightened up, menacing. “You stop this right now.”

  Miguel looked at me, sarcasm glimmering in his eyes. “Tell me, Ryan. What’s next? How many more women are you planning to—”

  The doorbell rang, surprising everyone.

  We all froze, staring at each other across the tension-filled room. None of us were expecting anyone else.

  “Who could that be?” Caroline whispered.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Sofia wiped her hands on her apron, her face still flushed with anger and embarrassment. “I’ll get it,” she said, shooting Miguel a stern look.

  We stood in uncomfortable silence as her footsteps sounded down the hallway. The front door opened, and I heard Sofia’s surprised intake of breath.

  “Ryan!” she called out. “Is for you!”

  I moved toward the hallway, my pulse quickening. As I approached, I heard Amber’s voice: “No! You didn’t have to—”

  And there she was, standing on the porch, holding a loaf wrapped in a kitchen towel. She wore a burgundy sweater and dark jeans, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders.

  Our eyes met, and I saw her breath catch. For a moment, she stepped forward as if she might hug me, then caught herself, stepping back and hugging the loaf instead.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hey, Amber.” I stayed in the doorway, sensing that any sudden movement might send her running. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “I, um, brought this for you all.” She held out the loaf. “Pumpkin bread. I made too much and thought... well, I figured you’d be having dinner together.”

  “And you were right,” I said gently, taking the bread from her. “That’s really sweet of you.”

  “Please, come inside, Amber,” Sofia said, reaching for her.

  But Amber shook her head rapidly. “No. I can’t stay.” She was already backing toward the porch steps. “I’m on my way to my brother’s house. The whole family’s there, and I’m already late.”

  But she wasn’t moving away. She stood there, torn, her eyes drinking in the sight of me like she’d been starving for it.

  “Amber,” I said softly, “are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” But her voice cracked. “I should go. Tell Caroline and Kate I said happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Why don't you tell them yourself?” I suggested. “Just for a minute?”

  She shook her head quickly. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

  Behind me, I could hear footsteps approaching—Caroline and Kate coming to see what was happening.

  “Amber!” Caroline exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise! Come in, honey.”

  Miguel followed behind her, gazing with suspicion.

  The sound of more voices seemed to break whatever spell had been holding Amber there. She stepped back again, shaking her head.

  “I have to go,” she whispered, and then she was hurrying down the porch steps and across the yard to her car.

  We slowly returned to the dining room, the meaning of Amber’s brief visit settling over us.

  Miguel watched our faces with sharp intelligence, clearly trying to piece together what he’d just witnessed.

  “So,” he said finally. “Who was that? Because nobody gets that upset over dropping off bread to casual friends.”

  Sofia sank into one of the chairs, suddenly looking exhausted. “Is… complicated.”

  “She’s someone we care about,” Caroline said. “But she’s been pulled in different directions by her family, her work…”

  Miguel’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Don’t tell me. Another girlfriend?”

  “Another serious girlfriend—possibly. But she would be the last one.”

  “Oh, look at that! Moderation!” he laughed without smiling, throwing up his hands.

  “She’s fighting herself,” Kate said, ignoring Miguel’s comments. “She wants to be here, but she’s scared of what people will think.”

  Sofia plopped into her chair, letting out a sigh. “She looked sad. Like she wanted to come in but couldn’t let herself.”

  Miguel watched his mother for a moment, a heavy frown on his brow. Then glanced around at all of us.

  “Mami,” he said quietly, wiping non-existent lint off his jeans. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did. It was rude.”

  Sofia waved her hand. “You have a right to be surprised. Is very strange, this….” She gestured around at us all.

  Miguel sighed, still focused on his jeans. Then he shifted in his seat. I could see a hint of begrudging acceptance in his face as he glanced around.

  “Well… I gotta admit, my mom’s been a lot calmer lately— I’ve really noticed that. She doesn’t call me every single day anymore—”

  “Miguel! I never call every day! You are being dramatic!”

  Everyone laughed, including Miguel.

  “I’m dramatic?” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Mama, you were calling a lot. And…” He sighed. “Well, I already knew you needed something else in your life, so…” He cleared his throat. “As long as you’re happy, that’s a good thing, I guess.”

  The tension in the room had shifted, becoming a bit warmer, a bit more manageable. Miguel still didn’t seem thrilled about the situation, but he was beginning to understand it.

  Later, after we’d all had a rum and coke and the conversation had moved to safer topics, Miguel and I were standing talking about the economy.

  Sofia came in between us, putting her arms around us both. “Two of my favorite boys!” she said, smiling.

  Miguel groaned. “Oh, mama. This is going to take some getting used to.”

  In the kitchen, the oven timer beeped.

  “The turkey!” Sofia said, giving me a covert pinch on the butt before hurrying into the kitchen.

  Chapter twenty-two

  The Riverdale Community Center buzzed with energy on election night. Caroline and Kate followed me through the entrance, Caroline’s hand resting on her baby bump as we made our way through the crowd.

  The main hall was divided into two camps — Mrs. Donovan’s supporters on one side, the opposition on the other. We took seats in the front row where campaign organizers were sitting.

  I caught sight of Amber across the room, looking even more polished than usual in a fitted suit and sharp stiletto heels.

  She moved with her usual crisp, professional air, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.

  When the moderator introduced her as the evening’s MC, she took the podium to introduce both candidates.

  Unexpectedly, I noticed her voice crack slightly when she gave a personal mention about Mrs. Donovan being her third-grade teacher.

  Spittleberg came up first. As he rose to begin his speech, Amber made her way toward the seats. Her eyes found the only empty chair — right next to mine. I gave her an ironic smile.

  She hesitated, glanced around for alternatives, then quickly sat down.

  Amber studiously ignored me, keeping her eyes fixed on Spittleberg as he warmed up his speech.

  She sat rigidly upright, but I could smell her familiar warm scent—like cinnamon and bubble gum.

  “Spring break alone could generate millions in revenue,” Spittleberg was saying. “I want you to picture this: Riverdale as the premier spring break destination for the Carolinas. Beach clubs, party venues, casinos.”

  I glanced sideways at Amber. Her jaw was set, but I caught a slight frown as Spittleberg outlined his vision.

  “We’ll be a tourist hub. The population could double during peak seasons. Just picture that! Our streets would be filled with students and vacationers looking to spend money.”

  I gave Amber a meaningful look, and I knew she felt it, though she kept her eyes fixed on her candidate.

  Her frown deepened.

  “We’ll focus on housing solutions,” he continued. “Subsidized accommodations for the growing homeless population.”

  Somebody behind us groaned. “Only reason the homeless population’s growing is because you’re creating incentives for them to come out here from the cities!”

  “Please let the candidates speak!” the moderator said. “There’ll be a Q and A afterwards.”

  “He’s right, though,” I murmured to Amber.

  She finally glanced at me, flustered. “No he isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed.

  “It’s the same scheme as before,” I retorted, getting a bit angry. “Build unneeded subsidized housing projects to exploit the bonanza when property values go up. It’s all for short term gain of developers and landlords — not for the good of the town.”

  As I spoke, she rolled up the program and gripped it until her knuckles went white.

  I leaned slightly closer, keeping my voice to a whisper. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she murmured, but her voice caught slightly.

  “You sure? Because you look like you’re about to tear that program in half.”

  Amber glanced down at her hands, seeming surprised to find the paper crumpled. She smoothed it out with jerky movements, her cheeks flushing.

  She leaned towards me, whispering, “Anyway, I don’t necessarily agree with all of Spittleburg’s policies, but… But overall it’s the best for our town.”

  “Temporary housing? Transient population? That’s the future you’re fighting for?"

  “It’s about economic development, remember?” she whispered back, but she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me.

  I brushed my fingers over her hand. “What about babies?”

  Amber’s head snapped towards me, her brown eyes wide. “W-what?”

  “Babies. Families. Where do they fit into this vision?”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “Not everyone wants your suburban fantasy, Ryan.” She blushed even harder, and her gaze drifted to Caroline, who sat in her habitual hand-on-bump position.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Because I could have sworn you wanted it.”

  Her mouth quivered, and she laughed softly, gazing back at me, flustered. Then, shaking her head, she leaned back and crossed her arms, staring forward resolutely.

  “What if you have babies like you want to?” I said softly. “Whose vision would be better for them to grow up in?”

  Spittleberg thanked everyone for coming and left the podium.

  Amber stood, returning to the stage with nervous energy.

  Her voice was slightly hoarse as she took the microphone and introduced Mrs. Donovan.

  Mrs. Donovan approached the podium with quiet dignity, adjusting her glasses as Amber returned to her seat beside me.

  “I’ve watched this community grow and change for over forty years,” Mrs. Donovan began, “and I’ve seen what happens when we forget what matters most.”

  Amber seemed less rigid now, more uncertain. Her body seemed so light and yielding next to mine.

  I could feel the pull I was exerting on her just by being close. She tilted her head, leaning towards me slightly.

  Mrs. Donovan talked about how the elementary school classrooms were packed when she started teaching decades ago. How the parks were filled with Children’s laughter.

  Amber suddenly leaned closer, her soft hair almost touching me. I heard her take a few sniffs.

  “Did you just smell me?” I murmured.

  “I miss your smell,” she breathed, her voice trembling. Her brown eyes were big, filled with emotion.

  “Today, we can barely fill one kindergarten class,” Mrs. Donovan said. “Our school population has shrunk by sixty percent. I no longer hear children playing.”

  Mrs. Donovan’s eyes swept the crowd, and for a moment, they seemed to settle on our section. “A real community isn’t about tourist dollars or seasonal employment.

  “It’s about creating a place where people want to put down roots, build a family.”

  Amber’s breath hitched audibly. Her hands were trembling slightly as she clasped them in her lap.

  She took out a napkin and dabbed her eyes, but the makeup was already smudged.

  Mrs. Donovan went on to outline her economic plan— based largely on the work that Kate and I had done to form an alternative to the transformative plan of the other side.

  But her speech had already hit home — especially with Amber. She sniffled, and makeup ran down her face.

  “Amber, are you okay?” I murmured, putting my hand on her back.

  She leaned towards me. “Hug me please. Just… Just hug me.”

  I obliged, wrapping both arms around her. This drew a few bewildered stares from her political associates.

  I just pretended not to notice them. Amber certainly didn’t seem to care.

  The applause that followed Mrs. Donovan’s speech was thunderous.

  But I wasn’t paying attention to the crowd—I was watching Amber, who leaned against me, one hand on my leg as I hugged her.

  On my other side, Caroline sat, one hand on my other leg to show support. Kate watched from her seat, taking it in.

  The moderator announced the Q and A period, and Amber sat up straight again. “Thank you,” she said as I took my arm away.

  “Of course,” I smiled.

  As people began asking questions, Amber’s fingers brushed over my hand. I looked at her.

  “Can… Can I…?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah,” I said, opening my hand.

  She put her hand in mine. It was slender and warm.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  She smiled, her makeup smudged from tears. “Yeah. It is.”

  “You can have everything you want,” I said.

  Amber hesitated. “I… I don’t know what I want.”

  “I think you do.”

  She gazed at me, her lips parting slightly. Then her eyes widened. But she yanked her hand away. “I can’t... This is exactly what I can’t do.”

  “Come here,” I said, placing my arm on the back of her chair. “Hug me again.”

  “No,” she recoiled. “I knew I shouldn’t have hugged you… I like your hugs too much.”

  “Then what’s the problem? That’s exactly why you should—”

  “No!” She looked around frantically. “Everyone’s watching. My career, my family... I’m sorry, Ryan.”

  The moderator wrapped up the question period. People began to stand and mill around.

  “I have to get it together,” Amber said, taking out a small mirror to fix her makeup. “Thank you, Ryan. For not judging me or… rubbing it in or anything.”