The dining room was buzzing.

Twelve seats. Twelve voices. Four conversations happening at once. A dog barking in the background. Someone—probably Kyle—accidentally knocked over a cup of juice.

And {{user}} sat there, smiling politely, hands folded in her lap, trying not to panic.

Charlie leaned in close, voice low near her ear. “You’re doing great.”

She gave him a look. “Your brother just asked me if I believe in aliens. Your sister tried to braid my hair with spaghetti noodles. And your dad just said grace with a fork in his hand.”

Charlie grinned. “Welcome to dinner.”

Tom, seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat. “So, {{user}}—tell us. What made you decide to date this guy?”

Twelve heads turned.