I nod, smiling.
Granddad Jim stands, raising his wine glass. "Alright, everyone. Before we dig in, I want to say a few words."
The table quiets, all eyes on the older man.
"A month ago, my stubborn grandson finally opened the restaurant he'd been dreaming about for years. I'll be honest, I was worried. Not about his talent, that was never in question. But about whether he could make it work here, in a small town,after spending so much time in big cities." Jim's gaze lands on Levi, warm and proud. "Boy, was I wrong to worry. Juniper's is everything June would have wanted. A place that brings people together, that makes them feel special, that serves food made with love and respect."
Levi's jaw tightens with emotion, and I slip my hand into his under the table. He squeezes back, hard.
"But what I'm most proud of," Jim continues, "is that you didn't do it alone. You built a team, you trusted people, and you found someone special to share it with." He raises his glass toward me. "Maya, we're lucky to have you. Welcome to the family, sweetheart."
"To Maya," everyone choruses, raising their glasses.
I blink back tears, overwhelmed by the warmth and acceptance. A month ago, I was just a kitchen helper hoping to prove myself. Now I'm sitting at a table surrounded by people who've become like family, dating a man I'm falling in love with, living a dream I barely dared to imagine.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice thick. "All of you. I never expected... this is more than I ever hoped for."
"Get used to it," Jenny says with a grin. "We're keeping you."
"Damn right we are," Tommy adds, and Marcus nods enthusiastically.
Levi leans over and kisses my temple. "Told you everyone would welcome you with open arms."
"You did." I turn to look at him, at this man who saw potential in me when I barely saw it in myself, who challenged me to be better and trusted me with his vision. "Thank you. For everything."
"Thank you for taking a chance on a grumpy chef with control issues."
"You're getting better about the control issues."
"Only because you keep calling me out on my bullshit."
I laugh, and he kisses me properly this time, not caring that everyone's watching. When we break apart, Owen is making exaggerated gagging sounds and Ivy is smacking his arm.
"Can we eat now?" Ivy asks.
"Please, everyone dig in," Levi says, gesturing to the food.
The table erupts into motion: platters being passed, serving spoons clattering, conversation flowing. I watch my mom try the roasted vegetables and close her eyes in appreciation. Watch Jenny and the servers argue playfully about which dish is best. Watch Owen and Ivy feed each other bites and look disgustingly happy about it.
And I watch Levi, who's watching everyone else with this expression of quiet contentment.
"You did good," I tell him softly.
He turns to me, eyebrow raised. "We did good."
"We did good," I amend.
"Better." He slides his arm around the back of my chair, and I lean into him, feeling utterly content.
The meal is incredible. Of course it is, Levi made most of it, but it's the company that makes it special. Stories are shared, jokes are told, and at one point Granddad Jim launches into an embarrassing tale about eight-year-old Levi trying to make breakfast and nearly burning down the kitchen.
"He used an entire stick of butter in the pan," Jim says, laughing. "Thought more butter meant better pancakes. Didn't understand why they were smoking."
"I was eight," Levi protests, but he's grinning. "And in my defense, Grandma June always said butter makes everything better."
"She did say that," Jim agrees fondly. "She also said to use common sense, which you apparently lacked that morning."
"I have plenty of common sense now."