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The Rutherford home in South Reach was cozy and warm, like the family that occupied it. Eira sat tucked up next to Cullen on a comfortable couch in the living room; she liked being close to him in general, but right now she was drawing strength from his presence.
It wasn't the Rutherfords causing her unease — the opposite — they were welcoming, good-naturedly bickering and picking at one another, freely offering her refills on her drink.
It was just her. The last time she'd seen her own family was fifteen years ago. Nor had they ever been as relaxed and easygoing as the Rutherford clan.
Internally, she'd been a ball of nerves in the weeks leading up to their visit to meet them for the first time. Cullen hadn't seen them since he was thirteen, but he still slid into his space in the family with a little initial awkwardness. He'd also been nervous, but his relief at being welcomed back with open arms seemed to override his misgivings.
Eira had noticed the tears in his eyes when his siblings piled out of the house to hug him, though. She'd lingered behind him on the porch, touching his lucky coin through her blouse, where it hung on a chain around her neck. A prickle of tears had come to her eyes with happiness for him, underpinned with a touch of melancholy.
Now, one of his hands lay casually on her knee, and he gave it a brief squeeze as he told the fabricated story of how they met.
Cullen's elder sister Mia shot the two of them a smile. Nothing got past her sharp brown eyes. She could see why she was frighteningly good at chess.
"Wait, Cullen actually asked you out?" Rosalie asked, perched on the arm of the couch.
"Yes," she said with a fond smile, remembering when he actually confessed his growing feelings. "He was very sweet about it."
Rosalie's grin spread, and Branson laughed from the floor, where he was helping his son with a puzzle. "But he was always so awkward with girls!"
The tips of Cullen's ears flushed. "Mia, did you like the perfume?"
The matriarch was benevolent at least, and took the topic change. "It's lovely. I've actually looked up your online store, Eira. Do you ever do samples?"
They chatted on more neutral footing, until Mia excused herself to check on their meal in the oven, dragging Rosalie with her. Branson took his son to wash up for dinner, and left them alone in the living room for the moment.
"How are you doing?"
She paused for a moment before giving him a half smile. "I'll be fine. How are you?"
"I'm good." He let out a soft sigh. "Really, truly good." His golden brown eyes searched hers, eyebrows drawing together slightly. "Are they too much?"
"Not at all! It's just..." she nibbled her lower lip. "It's just me."
Squeezing her knee once more, he tilted his head to press a chaste kiss on her lips. "We can talk about it more later, if you'd like."
She tipped closer to him, resting their foreheads together. "Okay," she whispered.
Cullen's nephew stomped through the doorway, waving his arms. "Unca! Food time!"
His scarred lips spread in a genuine smile and he unfolded himself from the couch, scooping up the boy to his delighted screech. "Good job, kiddo." Turning back to Eira while settling him on his hip, he held out his free hand. "Food time, love."
She felt happiness bloom in her chest at the sight and took his hand, letting herself be drawn towards the sound of Cullen's family bustling about the kitchen.
She could see herself fitting in here, too. She just needed a little time.