the living room. We find my father in his recliner, his eyes glued to the football game on TV.
“Hi, Dad.”
His eyes flash from the screen to the little family standing in his living room. Without a word, he rises from his seat and takes a long look at the man by my side and the boy in my arms. Finally, he clears his throat and smiles gently at me.
“Hi, sweetheart. It’s good to have you home.”
Ryder hugs me harder, and suddenly, Dad’s face flickers with an emotion I can’t quite place.
“Dad, this is Jackson and Ryder.”
Jackson steps forward and offers his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Stuart.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Call me Tom.”
Then, Dad smiles at the boy in my arms.
“Hello, Ryder.”
“Hi.”
“I hear you’re gonna be my fishing buddy this weekend.”
Ryder nods shyly.
“Can you really catch anything in November?” I ask.
“Fish are always bitin’ in our pond. You know that.”
“That’s good, because I know a little boy who’s dying to bait the hook.”
“That used to be your favorite thing about fishing, too.” Dad smiles softly at me before turning his attention back to Ryder. “Want to see your new fishing rod?”
His sweet eyes find mine, and I give him an encouraging smile before lowering him to the floor. Grinning up at my dad, Ryder offers him his hand, and my father beams as he leads him out to the back porch.
“Oh, he’s beautiful, Jackson.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Sit, sit,” Mom says, pulling us over to the couch. The interrogation starts immediately. She wants to hear all about the city, Jackson’s firm, his family, Hazel, the penthouse, and the realtor. Questions are flying so fast that I’m not prepared when the subject changes to our wedding.
“What are you thinking? A big event in the city? Or a sweet little country wedding right here in Chestnut Grove? Oh, a summer wedding by the pond would be just beautiful!”
Jackson chuckles. I shoot him a glare.
“Mom, we’re not even engaged yet.”
Her eyes narrow in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not engaged?”
“We’re not engaged.”
“And why not?”
“Because she won’t say yes,” Jackson mumbles.
I elbow him. This just makes him laugh even harder.
“Wait,” Mom says slowly. “Are you saying that you proposed to my daughter, and she said no?”
“I didn’t say no . . . exactly.”
Mom searches my face, desperate for an explanation, unbelieving that I could possibly refuse this beautiful man by my side.
“Jackson,” Mom says sweetly. “Why don’t you join the boys out on the porch? I’d like to talk to my stubborn daughter.”
Fantastic.
Jackson’s immediately apologetic. “Mrs. Stuart, it’s my fault—”
“Please call me Rebecca.”
“Rebecca . . . it’s entirely my fault. My proposal was very spontaneous. I didn’t even have a ring. I was just—”
“Desperate to marry my daughter because you can’t wait to make her happy for the rest of her life?”
“Well . . .”
“That’s what I thought,” she says with a sigh. “I’d like a few moments with my lovely daughter, if you don’t mind.”
With a heavy sigh, Jackson kisses my temple before heading outside to join my dad and Ryder. I can feel Mom’s gaze on me as I try to focus on anything but her disappointed face.
“Olivia Marie Stuart, what was your GPA?”
“What does my GPA have to do with—”
“What was it?”
“It was 4.0, Mom. You know this.”
“I do. So intelligence isn’t the issue here.”
I roll my eyes.
“Olivia, that boy is in love with you.”
“I know. I love him, too.”
“And you love his child. Your child.”
“Very much.”
“And you’re living together.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re looking at houses?”
I nod.
“And you’re . . .” her voice trails off as she wiggles her eyebrows.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. We’re not sleeping together.”
“Why not?”
This is completely mortifying.
“Mom, believe it or not, I’m an adult now. There are some parts of my life that really are none of your business.”
“I disagree. Not when you deny yourself happiness,” she says softly, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. “The man you love proposed to you and you said no. Please make me understand why.”
The boys’ laughter echoes from the back porch, and the sound makes me smile. They’d been so nervous, and now, they’re laughing with my dad and looking at fishing rods.
“Mom, he’s still married.”
She frowns. “I thought Jackson was divorced.”
“He was separated when I started working for him. Natasha—his wife—dragged her fancy designer heels for months. But she finally signed the papers. Their divorce will be final in two weeks.”
“Two weeks.”
“Right.”
“We can plan a wedding in two weeks.”
“Mom!”
She laughs. “Sorry, sorry. But he did propose?”
“Yes. But he proposed before