Being Gibse’s partner came with a few unwritten rules—chief among them: attending his family's annual gathering. It wasn’t so much an obligation as a rite of passage, one that involved his parents, grandparents, siblings, and even the cousins whose names you still weren’t entirely sure of.

Don’t get it wrong—they absolutely adored you. But sometimes… a little too much.

This year, the event was at his parents’ house. Or, as Gibse had recently started calling it, “your future in-laws’ place,” with a smirk that made your stomach flutter and your eyes roll in equal measure.

As you and Gibse strolled up the stone path to the front door, hand in hand, you gave him a sideways glance.

“Think I can survive this year without getting cheek-pinched by Grandma Dottie?” you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Gibse grinned. “Absolutely not. In fact, I’d wager she’s been warming up that pinching hand since last night.”

You barely had time to groan before the door suddenly flew open.

“There she is!” Aunt Carla squealed, arms already outstretched as if she'd been waiting behind the door for hours.

“Oh, look at you! Still the prettiest thing in this whole town,” Grandma Dottie gushed, pushing past Gibse to wrap you in a lavender-scented hug.

“Come in, come in!” his dad bellowed, ushering you inside like royalty.

You shot Gibse a helpless look over your shoulder as hands grabbed at your coat, your arms, even your hair—complimenting, fussing, fawning. Your mouth formed a silent, exaggerated “Help me.”

Gibse just stood there on the porch, staring at the whirlwind that had once been you.

He chuckled, shook his head, and muttered under his breath, “They love them too much.”

As he stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. You were already being led toward the kitchen, a pie in one hand and a baby you didn’t recognize in the other.

And despite the chaos, he knew—you loved his family just as much as they loved you. Maybe even enough to survive Grandma Dottie’s cheek-pinching. Maybe.