We have to Uber to the bar to get Ronan’s truck before we can do anything else. “We’ll stop at your place on the way so you don’t have to wear last night’s dress again.”

“That’d be great.” I slide into the passenger seat.

Since we’re already running late, later than before, I rush up and decide to forgo the dress today, and throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I don’t often wear jeans, but I do own a few cute pairs. I also pull my hair up into a ponytail. I’m mostly makeup free, but I give my lashes a quick swipe with the mascara brush and throw on a coat of lip gloss. I shrug into my winter coat and rush back down to Ronan, who’s busy scrolling through his phone.

I slide back into the passenger seat and buckle up. His eyes move over my legs and up my thighs. From mid-thigh up, they’re covered by my coat. “Is this okay? I don’t need to be more formal, do I?”

“No. You look great. Jeans are perfect.” He puts the truck into gear. “I’ve just never seen you in a pair before.”

His gaze lingers on my legs before he shifts his focus to the road.

“So who’s all going to be there?”

“My brothers, their significant others, and Lars may or may not come. Depends on what he got up to after the bar closed.” Lars had a lot of attention last night. And I’m pretty sure three girls took advantage of the mistletoe hanging over the bar, and that was only what I saw when I wasn’t too busy serving drinks. “Daniel is the oldest. He’s thirty-seven, and a big-time financial advisor. His wife, Celia, is a teacher.”

“Is she the pregnant one?”

Ronan nods. “Yup. And she’s kind of at that weird in-between stage where she just looks like she’s put on weight but there isn’t enough of a bump that you can be sure she’s pregnant, so she’s taken to wearing shirts that advertise the fact that she hasn’t eaten too many Christmas cookies, and my brother is ridiculous about it. So fucking proud that his sperm managed to hit the mark.”

I chuckle at that. “Aw, that’s kind of cute, though, isn’t it?”

“Kind of, I guess. Mostly it makes me want to gag. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I literally cannot imagine Maddy or Skylar having children. God forbid they don’t get a full night’s sleep or have to change a messy diaper.” I’d ask Ronan how he feels about kids, but I don’t feel like that’s a great conversation post first-sexy-times sleepover. “Okay, so Daniel is the oldest and he’s married to Celia, who’s a teacher and is pregnant. And your other brother, is he married, too?”

“Engaged, actually. Aiden and Leslie have been together for eight years, and living together for six, so the wedding is pretty much a formality. They were going to elope in Vegas, but she’s an only child and her mom would have been devastated if she didn’t have a real ceremony, so they decided a destination wedding was the best option.”

“Oh, that’s fun.”

“We’ll see. She’s also in finance, and so is half of her family, so most dinner conversations revolve around the state of the stock market when they’re all together.”

“That sounds…”

“Boring?”

“Normal?” I offer.

“Boringly normal. Anyway, with Celia there we’ll at least have some balance and I’m sure they’ll ask you all sorts of questions and try to get you to let them manage your financial portfolio.”

“I don’t have much of a financial portfolio to speak of, so I’m not sure I’d be worth managing.”

“Buttercream and Booze is doing amazingly well, though.”

“Oh yes, definitely. But I’m putting pretty much everything I have into it right now, so there’s not much extra to play around with. For now, anyway.” I’m hopeful things keep going the way they are, but with Dick and Bobby’s across the street we’re bound to see a dip, at least while it’s shiny and new. Hopefully it will all balance out after the initial excitement is over.

Ronan taps the steering wheel. “I really think it’s commendable that you’re doing it all on your own.”

“It makes the reward of success that much greater, you know?”

“Yeah. I can see that, especially for someone like you.” We pass over the freeway, heading away from Pioneer Square and the downtown area into the more residential neighborhoods.

“Someone like me?”

“You come from this family who could easily push you around, but you managed to stand your ground and prove to them that you can make your own mark. And they don’t even really know.” Ronan makes a right down a quiet residential street with older homes that have been well maintained.

“Their version of success and mine aren’t the same. I don’t want creepy statues with hard-ons all over my house. Or so much space that I could literally get lost on the way to my bedroom and never find my way back. I just want to do what I love and be surrounded by the people I care about.”

“I feel exactly the same way.” He gives my hand a squeeze, then pulls into the driveway of a quaint, brick, two-story house.

When we reach the front door, I have a moment of panic. “Oh no! I’m showing up empty-handed. Maybe we should stop somewhere and grab a bottle of wine? There has to be a convenience store open somewhere that sells wine, right?”

“Don’t worry about it, Blaire. There’s going to be more food and booze than an army can consume. And even if we found an open store, all they’re going to have is cheap wine that tastes like tomorrow’s headache. Trust me when I say it’s okay that we’re coming empty-handed. Plus I dropped stuff off a few days ago for this occasion, and my brew shed is out back, so we’re all set.”

He doesn’t knock on the door, just lets himself in, ushering me ahead of him. I’m greeted by the most delicious combination of scents. I breathe in cinnamon and cloves along with hints of citrus and cranberry. But more pungent is the aroma of something fried and sweet. “Oh, wow, what is that smell?”

“New Year’s cookies, but they’re more like donuts and they’re the perfect cure for a post–New Year’s Eve hangover.”

“I’m not hungover, though.”

“Well, we’re about to start drinking again, so these should help prevent one.” He helps me out of my coat and groans. “Ah hell, Blaire.”

“What? Is everything okay?” I’m about to spin around to see what’s going on, but he grabs me by the hips.

He pulls me back into him, dropping his head so his lips are at my ear. “These jeans are going to kill me. Now I have a perfect visual of all those curves you keep hidden under those skirts. It’s going to be a long, uncomfortable afternoon for me.”

I grin. Unlike Maddy and Skylar, I have curves. I learned very early on to embrace those curves and love the hell out of them.

One Halloween—around the time the parent swap happened—I dressed as June Cleaver. And surprisingly, I felt the most comfortable in my skin. Maybe because my conventional family unit had been obliterated. Maybe because I liked the idea of an uncomplicated life. Of pot roasts, family dinners, and parents who worked normal jobs.