Hannah snorted behind the counter, already sneaking spoonfuls of mashed potatoes into her mouth when she thought no one was looking.
Jean settled onto one of the high stools, watching the scene unfold with a fondness she didn't realize she'd developed.
There was noise, clattering plates, overlapping voices, Martha threatening Logan with a spatula when he tried to steal a biscuit.
There was chaos… Hannah dancing between cabinets like it was a cooking competition show, Logan sneaking up behind Jean just to kiss the top of her head and nearly getting elbowed.
But most of all…
There was warmth.
Finally, Jean wasn't thinking about her posture. She wasn't overanalyzing every bite or rehearsing polite comments.
She just ate.
She laughed.
And she let herself belong.
Dinner was full of stolen bites, stories from Logan's school days that Martha embellished with flair, and Hannah oversharing about Jean's low-key cinnamon roll kiss like it was breaking news.
