I swear I changed three times before dinner and still ended up in the simplest outfit I owned. Black jeans, white top. Hair half-up, half-down because I couldn’t commit to anything more dramatic. I wanted to look normal. Not trying, not flustered and not “I’m secretly losing my mind over my stepbrother” levels of obvious.
I checked myself in the mirror anyway. “You look fine,” I muttered.
But when I walked downstairs and saw Ryan at the bottom of the steps, staring up at me as I had just ruined his entire emotional balance, something fluttered inside my chest. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there, gaze sharp and way too heavy for a family dinner.
“You’re staring,” I whispered.
“You’re glowing,” he shot back.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” he said. “I’m re
