The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and freshly baked pumpkin as you carefully slid the pie out of the oven. It was golden brown, with a perfect flaky crust—something you'd spent the last hour obsessing over. This wasn't just any pie. It was the pie. The one you'd bring to meet Reneé's family for the first time tomorrow.
The pressure was real. Reneé had spoken about her family countless times, and though they sounded lovely, you wanted to make a good impression. Scratch that, a great impression. Her mom apparently had a thing for desserts, and you figured a homemade pumpkin pie would be the perfect way to win her over.
"You still up?" Reneé's voice startled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see her leaning against the kitchen doorway, wearing one of your oversized sweatshirts and a curious smile. Her blonde hair was messy from lounging, and her eyes were soft with sleep.
"Couldn't sleep," you admitted, setting the pie down on the counter. "Thought I'd get this out of the way."
Reneé crossed the room, barefoot, her arms wrapping around your waist from behind.
"You've been stressing about this pie all day," she murmured into your neck, her lips brushing your skin. "I thought you said you were a pro baker?"
"I am," you said, turning your head slightly to give her a mock glare. "But this is your mom we're talking about. She bakes every holiday. What if she hates it?"
Reneé chuckled, spinning you around to face her. "First of all, my mom is going to love you. She already loves you, and she hasn't even met you yet."
"That's because she doesn't know I have a tendency to overthink pie crusts," you grumbled, crossing your arms.
"Second," Reneé continued, ignoring your self-deprecating remark, "this pie smells amazing, and I know it's going to taste amazing because you made it.
But even if it didn't, you could show up empty-handed, and she'd still adore you."
You sighed, leaning into her. "You're only saying that because you're biased."
"Obviously," Reneé teased, kissing the top of your head. "But I'm also right."
For a moment, you let yourself relax in her arms, the tension melting away. "I just want them to like me, Renee. It feels... important."
"They're going to love you," she said softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "And even if my mom turns into Gordon Ramsay and critiques the pie, it doesn't matter. I'm the one dating you, and I already think you're perfect."
You smiled, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Okay, but if she doesn't like the pie, you're distracting her with stories of your middle school theater phase."
Reneé laughed, loud and genuine. "Deal.
Now, come to bed. You're meeting the Rapps tomorrow, and you'll need sleep for all the 'embarrassing Reneé' stories they'll unload on you."
You covered the pie with foil, set it on the counter, and let Reneé drag you out of the kitchen. As she intertwined her fingers with yours, you felt a little lighter. Tomorrow would be fine—no, better than fine. After all, you had Reneé, and that was already the sweetest thing in your life.
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part 2 is up! don't forget to like and comment 🩷
