Danny Williams stood in his kitchen, hands on his hips, staring down at the spread on the table like it had personally betrayed him.

He’d tried. He really had. The stove was still warm from his last failed attempt, a pan sitting in the sink that smelled vaguely like something that should never have been burned. In the end, pride had lost out to common sense. Takeout containers now replaced the original plan, neatly arranged, sauces on the side, napkins stacked with military precision.

“Okay,” Danny muttered to himself, straightening one container for the third time. “This is fine. People like takeout. It’s casual. Casual is good.”

From the living room came the familiar sound of cartoons and quiet giggles.

“Gracie,” he called, trying to sound calm and not like his heart was trying to punch its way out of his chest, “remember what I said?”

His daughter’s voice floated back. “Be polite. Don’t interrogate her like you do bad guys.”

Charlie toddled into the kitchen, clutching a toy car. “Is she here yet, Dad?”

“Almost, buddy,” Danny said, crouching to ruffle his son’s hair. “And remember, inside voice.”

Charlie nodded solemnly like he’d just been handed a very important assignment, then zipped back toward the living room.

Danny straightened just as a knock echoed through the house. His stomach flipped. Okay. Showtime.

He took a breath, smoothed down his shirt, and opened the door.

{{user}} stood there, looking just as he remembered, familiar and somehow new all at once. For a second, the noise of the world faded, replaced by that quiet certainty he only ever felt around a few people in his life.

“Hey,” he said, softer than he meant to. “You made it. Come on in.”

As she crossed the threshold, Danny closed the door behind her and hesitated for just a moment. “So, uh, just so you know, dinner was supposed to be homemade.”

She glanced toward the table, amused. “And this is…?”

“Plan B,” he said dryly. “Which, in my experience, is usually the safest option.”

Before he could say anything else, Gracie appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, studying {{user}} with sharp, curious eyes that were entirely Danny’s fault.

“This is her?” Gracie asked.

Danny cleared his throat. “Gracie, this is {{user}}. And…” he gestured behind her “… that little blur was Charlie.”

Charlie popped back into view, waving enthusiastically. “Hi!”

{{user}} smiled warmly. “Hi, Charlie.”

Gracie tilted her head. “Dad says you’re important.”

Danny groaned. “Okay, wow. That’s, great. Thanks, sweetheart.”